#you see why i get annoyed when people talk about taking agatha and simon seriously by reading them as 'a legit romantic ship' or some shit

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

"She can't leave me" ... "Agatha can't abandon me"...

Consider this: Simon holding on to "me and Agatha are a sure thing" and the idea of marrying her to be part of a family not because he actually envisions himself as a married man and or a father (his true belief being that he will die in battle meaning he doesn't see himself growing up or actually marrying) but because he wants to feel like a son. The Wellbelove family is the first and only family who ever welcomes Simon, consistently giving Simon the only taste he ever had of a comfortable, perhaps even luxurious house, and welcoming adults who view him positively/"accept him"... so it is any wonder that Simon, an orphan child who desperately wants family, would unconsciously try to feel that void with them? That he would feel the only way to "secure a spot" there would be by becoming a son-in-law? That a break-up is all it takes to lose it all, even though Simon knows on some level that what he has here isn't right? (and he gives it all away in his thoughts – the dad calls him son, but not like "I think of you as a son"... the mom calls him handsome but that's all she ever says to him, etc)

Agatha breaking up is painful for many reasons that have nothing to do with Agatha herself ("the prettiest girl rejecting you means you are not aspirational and thus you have failed at proving yourself – you simply don't belong" it says, self-esteem-wise) (when it's about Agatha herself, and not what Simon has attached to her, what hurts is the possibility of losing a friendship). But what hurts the most is perhaps the feeling of abandonment. The reminder that, at the end of the day, you're still an orphan. "The happy ending is where my life will begin, it's all I've been working towards" except nothing has changed... You're nobody's son. (Except a lot has changed, and Simon is giving away that things have not been good for him thus far! even though he has been dating her for years! He has not been happy with her at any point in their relationship, which is worth highlighting because Simon is constantly happy when things are good with Baz... because he actually wants to be with him, instead of wanting thing he's attaching to him). "I have to fix this," "I'll say whatever she wants me to say," all say a lot: at no point is Simon ever wondering what he wants, he's just focusing on whatever he thinks other wants him to do so he can distract himself from the awful belief he'll die alone and lonely. That his days are numbered because he'll fight until he encounters something too big, too powerful to win against.. and that he doesn't actually want that... what he truly wants is to live to have a family. That's what the HEA represents to him.

Agatha leaving him is upsetting not because Agatha is abandoning him, but because the idea of family he could experience by attaching himself to her is abandoning him. The idea of being part of a family is abandoning him – that's what can't leave him. (Baz leaving him is upsetting, however, because Baz is leaving. A future without Baz is unthinkable because he wants to be with Baz. It's just completely different, the way he thinks about these things, and why he can easily think about "happy endings," which implies a future, while the thought of an actual future is so scary it makes him want to shit himself. It's not a contradiction because he didn't truly believe he was having a future until after he survived the events of CO, hence the breakdown that followed)

[mageicalwishes]

Crying In My Prom Dress - Chapter 5

Read on AO3: here

Read the previous chapter (on Tumblr): here

Summary: The Leaver’s Ball marks the end of the school year. The end of their time at Watford. Baz has a confession to make before it’s too late. But, will he ever pluck up the courage to tell Simon how he feels?

Inspired by the song “Prom Dress” by Mxmtoon.

Chapter: 5/7

Words: 4,025

Baz

This is undoubtedly a new low. I’m sitting, crying on the floor of the school’s bathroom stall. I am such a disgrace. I spelled the stall clean prior to sitting down (obviously), but I will still be needing at least an hour in the shower later - It’s a particularly grim place to have chosen to have my little breakdown. I don’t often cry, in fact I pride myself in my near unfaltering ability to suppress any emotion above purely neutral. However, tonight everything finally got the better of me. Everything simply got to be too much.

I guess that, faced with the reality of leaving Watford, I just feel overwhelmingly disappointed. Everyone else has been talking about how amazing their time here has been, but I can’t say I feel the same. Of course, there are some positives - Academically I excelled (and I genuinely enjoyed learning here), Dev and Niall have always been there for me, and most of the teachers were lovely. And, of course, there is Snow. But, on balance, it just feels as though I’m ending on a low. Watford was the place that my mother was murdered, the place I became what I am - So, I never expected to adore it. But, I at least expected to look back on my time here as being an overall positive. Unfortunately, it just hasn’t been. I wasn’t leaving Watford with a wealth of lifelong friends (my outwardly cold demeanour ensured that few really got close enough to become more than a casual acquaintance). I wasn’t leaving Watford with the love of my life in my arms (I’ll never get the chance to tell Snow now, he’s still wrapped up with Wellbelove). I wasn’t leaving Watford feeling as though I'd made my Father proud (he didn’t really react much at all when I told him I finished top of the year). I suppose I just expected more. Looking back on my time here - I have far too many regrets. What if I had told Snow how I feel? What if I had allowed more people to really get to know me? What if I hadn’t pushed so many people away? I just feel bitter. It seems everybody got their happy ending - Everybody, but me. They were all dancing about with their lovers or friends, and I was standing there talking to the bloody Magic Words teacher. Pathetic. All in all, it was a pretty miserable excuse for a final farewell party.

Simon

When I shuffle into the bathroom the sound immediately hits me - Sniffling. Somebody is definitely crying. Baz is crying. Merlin, he really must be upset - I’ve never seen Baz cry. I’ve rarely even seen him crack a smile.

“Baz? Is that you?” I ask, hesitantly.

“Crowley, Snow. You seriously can’t let me out of your sight for more than five minutes, can you? Am I not allowed even a moment of privacy? You are frustratingly persistent in your endeavour to become the most annoying Mage to ever live,” he croaks. His words are clearly supposed to be his usual brand of biting, but the cracking of his voice softens the blow significantly.

“What’s wrong? Whatever it is you can tell me. I promise I won’t tell anybody else."

“It is none of your concern, Snow. Go back to your ball”

“It is my concern. Just … Let me in. I want to talk to you. If you don’t, I’ll have to try and spell the door open. You probably don’t want that ... There is a fairly high chance that might backfire," I continue, unbothered by his attempts to turn me away.

“Merlin. Fine,” he sighs. “But breathe a word of this to anybody, including Bunce, and I will not hesitate to murder you. And, I can assure you I will not afford you the mercy of a quick death.”

I laugh then, and I hear the quiet click of the lock. I push the door open lightly, and plop myself down on the floor beside him, locking the door behind myself. He’s hugging his legs against his chest, and has his chin rested on top of his knees. He’s hanging his head forward, clearly trying to hide his face behind his sheet of black hair. I’ve never seen Baz look anything less than perfect (even now he looks frustratingly put together for a bloke who is sat crying on the floor of a bathroom). But, he looks smaller now than I’ve ever seen him. Fragile, almost. My heart constricts at the sight of him. I sort of want to hug him - I definitely shouldn’t though, he’d probably snap my neck if I tried.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“Yes, Snow. As you can see, I’m positively ecstatic,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Sorry. That was a bit of a stupid question, I know. Just … Just tell me whats wrong”

He looks over at me then. His cheeks are glistening where he’s been crying, and his nose is slightly flushed. The urge to hug him swells up within me, again.

“I tried to tell you it was none of your concern, Snow. But, you’re so bloody headstrong, you’d probably end up blowing us both up trying to unlock the door,” he scoffs.

“Probably,” I mumble. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll just have to keep guessing until I get it right. I can always tell when you’re lying, so I’ll know when I get it.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at me.  “Go on then, Snow. Dazzle me.”

“Did your date not show up? Is that why you were late? Were you waiting for someone?”

“No, Snow. I didn’t have a date. Try again.” he says, his voice unnaturally flat. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s stopped crying now (his voice isn’t as shaky anymore) - That's good.

“Why not? Loads of girls fancy you, I’m sure you could’ve found a date easily,” I ask.

“Well, I’m afraid the feeling is not reciprocated. And, nobody really likes me, Snow. I’m not you, remember. I doubt everyone is as willing to go with me as you think. Besides, the person I wanted to go with already has a date. I’m not so insecure I need to take somebody I have no real interest in.”

“Oh,” I say, dumbfounded, Baz never gives this much about himself away. “Well, I like you. Loads of other people do too - I’m certain. Penny always says you’re smart. So, I’m sure somebody would’ve wanted to go with you. But, I understand that's not what you want. My point still stands though. But, Does - I mean, does the person you wanted to go with know that you did? They might not really like whoever they ended up going with … They may have wanted to go with you too. Maybe they were just waiting for you to ask?”

“No. I can assure you they are very happy with their date. They wouldn’t have wanted to go with me.”

I sigh. He can be so stubborn sometimes. He can’t know for sure if he never even tried. “Okay,” I concede. “Well … Did Miss Posibelf say something that upset you?”

That earns me another eyebrow raise. “Spying on me again, Snow?,” he says, smirking. I don’t respond. He pauses then, his eyes scanning across my face as if he was trying to figure something out. “Look. I know you think you always have to be the hero, but you don’t. You don’t have to do this. Just - Just go have fun with Wellbelove - She’ll be waiting for you. Despite what you may think, I really don’t want to ruin your perfect last night together. You’ve established I’m not in here plotting, so you can go now. Everything is fine, Snow.”

I frown. “No. Everything isn’t fine," I argue. You’re clearly not fine. You don’t have to pretend you are - Because I can tell you’re not. And, I’m not just here because I think I have to be. I’m not a hero. I’m here because I want to be. I wanted to make sure you were okay." I huff, finished with my rant. "Oh -  And, uh ... me and Agatha broke up. So you don’t have to worry about her waiting for me - She isn’t. Her and Penny are dancing together.”

He looks over at me, his mouth hanging open slightly. “What? Why? You two seemed perfectly fine when I left," he stumbles.

“Uh … Well, she said that I was paying more attention to you than I was to her. Apparently I do that a lot. I said I was going to the bathroom and she knew I was only going because I saw you leave - So she dumped me,” I explain, awkwardly. He’s definitely going to laugh at me. I know it. Dumped because I’m obsessed with him - It's pretty bloody embarrassing. But, I’m not actually obsessed with him - Only Agatha and Penny think that (Well, once Dev said I was too, but he was probably just trying to wind me up). But, to my surprise, he doesn’t.

“Oh,” he murmurs “Me. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not angry at you,” I say in rush.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone sincere.

“Yeah. Honest, I’m fine. I’ve known for a while she was probably going to break up with me again. And, I thought I loved her and everything - But, I don’t think I do. I mean I definitely don’t feel heartbroken, or whatever. More sort of … relieved? I don’t know. I’m not sad though. I didn’t even cry - Not because I didn’t let myself either, I just didn’t need to. So yeah, I’m fine. We’ve not really been a proper boyfriend and girlfriend for ages. She said she didn’t love me, and, well, I’m beginning to suspect I didn’t love her either. So, it’s all good. It’s probably better for the both of us. She didn’t seem upset either. I mean, she seemed happier dancing with Penny than she has with me the entire night, anyway. I’m good. And, just to be clear, it’s not your fault. Even if it was … I’m glad it’s over. Don’t tell anyone I said that though - I don’t want to accidentally upset Agatha, or something. I just … I guess she wasn’t my destiny, after all,” I ramble. I don’t really know why I told Baz everything in so much detail. I mean, I haven’t even told Penny yet (Although, Agatha probably has), so I don’t know why I told him. He’s staring at me, blankly. He keeps opening and closing his mouth like he’s trying to figure out what to say (he looks a little bit like a fish, it’s kind of funny).  “Sorry. I just … You know - I sort of butted in on your private moment. And, I’ve been asking you to tell me personal stuff. So - You know, I thought I should at least do the same. I’m not a hypocrite, you know,” I explain.

“It’s okay, Snow. You don’t have to - I mean, it’s fine. Don’t apologise. I just - I’m just surprised”

“Oh,” I chuckle. “You looked like you were malfunctioning. I thought I’d finally broken you.”

He laughs back, cracking his first proper smile of the evening. I like seeing him smile. “Hush, you. I’ve seen you trying to do Magical Words homework, that is what malfunctioning looks like,” he teases.

We sit in silence for a moment, our soft breathing the only sound filling the stall. His is slower than mine. Then he speaks, his voice barely a whisper. “Look, Snow. I’ll tell you. Just - Just don’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. I promise. We can do that oath spell if you don’t believe me.”

“We don’t need the spell. I believe you,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I was upset because … Because, Watford didn't turn out to be all I had hoped it would be. I guess, I just feel disappointed. There are so many regrets, so many what-ifs - And, now it’s all over. No time left to fix anything, no time to make amends - I just have to accept things as they are. And, the Ball … it just made me feel worse. I was under the impression that the person I wanted to be with already had a date they were very happy with. And, Dev and Niall were busy with their dates. So I just felt a bit … Alone. It just overwhelmed me,” he says, nervously wringing his hands together in his lap.

“Oh. I’m sorry. You still have a few hours at Watford, I’m sure you could fix something if you wanted. But, I’m sorry it wasn’t what you had hoped. You came top of the year though, that’s great. You should be proud of that. And … Well, I don’t have a date. You could dance with me if you’d like. That way you won’t be alone.”

“Dance. With you. In front of everybody,” he scoffs.

“Yeah. Why not? Come on - It’ll be fun. Seven years together - I reckon I at least owe you a dance”

“Hmmm” he mumbles, clearly unconvinced.

I jump up, holding my hand out to him. “Come on. It’ll be fun, trust me. You’ve trained me up to be a proper little dancer - I’d hate for all your hard work to go to waste.”

He snickers. “Hardly, Snow. Despite my best efforts, your footwork is truly appalling,” he teases, reaching up and sliding his hand into mine, allowing me to pull him up off of the floor.

Victory.

————————————————————————————

Baz

Simon Snow still can’t dance. He has stepped on my shoes at least twelve times, but I don’t even mind. I’m so far gone for him. We’re holding each other close, moving together slowly. People are staring (obviously, they all know us to be mortal enemies), but I can’t find it in myself to care. I’ve got far more important things on my mind. I’m holding him, and he’s holding me. He’s laced our fingers together tightly, our palms pressed firmly together - His hand is so warm in mine. He’s so close to me like this, and he’s beaming up at me. I’m the reason behind his smile - It’s exhilarating. He’s chatting away happily, telling me about some football tournament he set up with some lads on the beach last summer. It’s perfect. If I let myself, it’s easy to pretend that this is something more than it really is - That we’re something more than we really are. Snow was right - This is fun.

————————————————————————————

Much to my dismay, the DJ seems to have resorted to playing exclusively upbeat, pop songs (meaning there is now no excuse to hold Snow). However, Snow has not stopped dancing - If you can class what he’s currently doing as dancing, that is. He’s madly hopping up and down on the spot, flailing his arms around like a lunatic. If Snow is bad at slow dancing, he is positively abysmal at regular dancing. I’m not complaining though, in spite of his terrible dance moves, he is a sight to behold. His curls are mad now, going in every sort of direction. And, his cheeks have flushed a frankly distracting pink, with the exertion of it all. He's stunning.

“Do you want to go and get a drink? I think I might pass out if I don’t - I’m boiling!" he asks.

“Sure,” I say, nodding my head. He smiles up at me, reaching out towards me, and intertwining our hands once more. He turns then, pulling me in the direction of the drinks table. He weaves us through the dense crowd,  refusing to drop my hand until we reach our destination. We must’ve looked slightly strange, but I couldn’t care less. Everyone else is irrelevant right now. Snow held my hand, without the excuse of dancing together. He held it because he wanted to - Granted, most likely not for the reason I would like, but I’ll take what I can get. And this - This is more than I could have ever hoped for.

We sit beside each other on the floor at the edge of the hall, while Snow finishes his drinks - He got three whole pint glasses of lemonade. Honestly, that boy is ridiculous. We don’t talk much (since he’s busy guzzling down his lemonade) , but it’s nice. Every now and then, he’d look over and smile at me slightly - It made my heart melt. I’d gladly sit on this rock-hard floor all day if it meant that he’d smile at me like that.

“We should go and find Penny when I’m done,” he says, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his blazer. Even that uncouth habit couldn't put me off of him now. “Just, I haven’t really spoken to her since we arrived. You okay with that? We can stay just you and me if you’d prefer.”

Of course, I’d rather stay just us two, but I can’t tell him that. I’m already walking on dangerous territory (I’ve allowed myself to take far too many liberties this evening) - If I was that honest, he would certainly suspect something was up. “Certainly, Snow. That's fine by me,” I mumble.

————————————————————————————

When we reach Bunce, she’s got her eyebrows raised and a smug, knowing smile plastered across her face. How irritating. Snow grabbed my hand on the way over - And, she has definitely noticed. I drop his hand quickly, as if burnt. He pouts up at me, clearly confused. I understand why, I’ve let him hold my hand all evening - Everyone around us has already seen, but Bunce seeing is entirely different. Bunce is aware of my real feelings towards Snow. Doing that in front of her … It’s humiliating. Simon just shrugs at me, and jogs forwards, scooping Bunce up into a huge hug.

“Hey Pen, How has your night been? Where did Agatha go?” He asks. Oh. Right. Wellbelove. I had sort of forgotten about her.

“Pretty good, thanks. Aggie went to go and dance with Keris and Trixie. I don’t think she’ll come back,” she answers.

Thank God. I’m not sure whether I could tolerate an evening of Snow and Wellbelove sharing wistful gazes at one another. Although, Snow says he wasn't particularly bothered by their breakup, and I believe him (he never has been a good liar). So, perhaps it wouldn't have been like that at all. Still, her being here would’ve been a bit too awkward for my liking - Given that, technically, I’m the reason they broke up. Somehow, I doubt Wellbelove would’ve appreciated my presence there.

We all start dancing again then. Bunce really isn’t much better than Snow. It’s frankly embarrassing how rhythm-less the two of them are, but dancing with them is far superior to standing on the edge of the hall alone. Bunce slowly shimmies herself over so she is standing beside me, then.  She taps on my side, and gestures for me to bring my head down so that she can whisper something in my ear. I oblige, reluctantly (Whatever Bunce has to say, I doubt it’s anything I want to hear).

“I see you listened to my advice, Basilton. What exactly did you tell him?,” she asks, her tone teasing.

Oh. She thinks I told him. Well, I suppose that is understandable, given that Snow has been clinging onto my hands at every available opportunity - We must’ve looked like a couple. Just the thought of that makes me giddy. Me and Snow … A couple. I should be so lucky!

“No, Bunce, you’ve got it wrong. I haven’t told him anything. So please, Keep your trap shut . Unless you’d rather me cast a Cat Got Your Tongue on you - That can be arranged, if need be,” I threaten.

She pulls away from me, an unamused frown adorning her face. “Calm down. I’ve told you already, your secret is safe with me. Sorry, I just assumed … with the hand holding,” she says, her voice trailing off towards the end.

I grimace. Bunce talking about it makes me feel horrendously uncomfortable. I know she saw (obviously), but talking about it - That’s different.

She sighs at me, then. “Seriously? Just - Just tell him. Tonight, Basilton. It’s your last chance, Please don’t waste it - You’ll regret it if you do. There is obviously something going on between the two of you. I just want you both to figure it out.”

I give her a curt nod, unsure of what to say. She rolls her eyes, clearly fed up with trying to convince me. I look over at Snow, he’s still blissfully flopping about the dance-floor, a bright grin spread across his face. He’s the brightest thing in the room. He’s shining. Frustratingly, Bunce is right - I know she is. I have to tell him . And, I will - Tonight. Maybe not until we get back to our room, though. That is not a conversation I want anybody to overhear.

With my decision made, I straighten my back and walk back over to Snow, taking my place at his side.

————————————————————————————

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Me and Snow danced together until the DJ announced that the night was officially over (Bunce had already left by that point). It had undoubtedly been the best night of my life so far. I felt alive - Really, truly, wholly alive. And it was all Snow’s doing.

Now, we’re sitting side-by-side on the steps of the White Chapel. It’s freezing out here, and I’m so close to him that I can feel his body trembling against mine. Every cell in my body is screaming for me to reach out and wrap my arms around him (not that I could really heat him up) - But, I dare not. I’m not entirely sure what we’re supposed to be doing here - Snow just sat himself down on the floor without any explanation, patting the floor beside him in an invitation for me to join. Of course, I didn’t protest. For whatever reason, Snow wanted to spend more time with me - I certainly wasn’t going to turn him down.

“Hey, Baz,” he says, turning to face me. “Were you planning on going to the after-party?”

“Uh. No, Snow. To be perfectly honest with you, I wasn’t aware there was one,” I explain.

“Oh. Well, Keris is hosting one. Everybody is invited. And, she only lives like a fifteen minute walk away. And, I - Um, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? It’s not supposed to be starting until one thirty, so we have time to go and change and everything. But, we could go together? If you wanted.” He’s nervous, I can tell - He’s refusing to meet my eyes, staring intently down at his lap instead.

“With you?” I ask, disbelieving.

“Uh yeah. That’s what I meant. Un - Unless there is somebody else you’d rather go with?”

“No,” I say, far too quickly. My heart is pounding. I need to calm down. “No. There is nobody else. I want to go with you.”

“Wicked” he says, smiling at me, his dimple popping obscenely. Looking at him like this is like staring directly into the sun - It burns. He’s so beautiful it hurts. I dart my gaze down, suddenly sheepish. He’s everything I want. I love him - As absurd as it is, I really do. I love him more than anything. I have to tell him. And it has to be tonight.

He reaches out and rests his hand on top of mine, and I feel my heart surge within my chest . “Come on then,” he whispers. “Let’s go and get ready.”

[andonewillbringhisfall]

Alexa, this is so sad.

Return of the meme-inspired fics! I’m sorry lol (side note: I NEED THERE TO BE MEME SPELLS IN WAYWARD SON)

This is the song in the fic

SIMON

‘This is so sad. Alexa, play Despacito,’ I say, for the fifth time. I’m still not sure where to point my wand while I say it. This time, I try the ceiling, but nothing happens.

‘It’s not working because you’re not sad enough,’ Penelope says.

I groan and drop my head on my desk. ‘I am sad. Sad that I can’t get this stupid spell to work.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re frustrated and annoyed,’ she says, not looking up from the notes she’s writing in her book.

‘Who needs a spell to play Despacito anyway?’ Agatha grumbles. ‘That’s the most useless spell I’ve ever heard of.’

Across the room, the song suddenly starts blaring, loudly. The entire class looks around to see who’s managed to cast the spell, and of course it’s Baz. It’s always Baz, brilliant git that he is.

‘Seriously,’ says Agatha, ‘this is ridiculous. What’s the point of a spell like that?’

Across the room, the song cuts off. Baz puts his wand down on his desk and leans back in his chair, looking bored, probably because he wants us to think that using memes as spells is beneath him. If he’s so good at it he must know more about them than he lets on, though.

‘This is so sad,’ says Agatha, but she’s not even holding her wand. She’s looking around at the whole class waving wands and rings around (and Gareth, the only one standing up), trying to get Despacito to play. I guess it is kind of a waste of magic, but Miss Possibelf says it’s a learning experience. She thinks memes are a magickal phenomenon because of how quickly they spread throughout the Normal world. She says they’re vital to our understanding of how words are given power.

Most of the class has managed to cast the spell by now. Despacito is playing at different times all over the classroom, and Rhys and Gareth are singing along every time one of the versions hits the part they know. Agatha’s face is all pinched, and Penny’s chewing the end of her pen and staring into space, which means she’s brainstorming something. Baz is saying something to Niall. He catches me looking at him and raises an eyebrow. I know he’s noticed that I haven’t managed to cast the spell. I look away from him and clench my jaw, raising my wand to try again.

‘Silence!’

Everyone quiets down – we don’t really have a choice – as all the music cuts off at once. Miss Possibelf paces back to the front of the classroom.

‘Excellent work,’ she says. ‘Would anyone like to discuss the spell?’

Keris raises her hand. ‘It only works if you’re sad,’ she says. ‘And I’m not sad.’

‘I disagree,’ says Rhys. ‘People don’t usually use the meme when they’re actually sad. Magic derives from context and intention.’

‘And the meme has been quoted with other songs, often when the sadness is sarcastic,’ Miss Possibelf says. ‘So how do you think that might have affected its use?’

I tune out of the conversation, watching Baz out of the corner of my eye.

I shouldn’t watch him like this, but I do it anyway. I’ve never really been able to help it, have I? It’s different now though, since Agatha and I broke up. Or since she told me she wasn’t interested in him, but that didn’t stop me from getting upset every time he so much as looked at her. I finally figured out that it’s because I want him to look at me.

He does, eventually. He usually does. I think I stare hard enough that he’d feel it even if we were oceans apart. Sometimes it feels like I think of him hard enough that he should be able to feel it. But the look he gives me now is venomous, so I look away.

‘I have an idea,’ Penny is saying, so I try to pay attention. ‘The person using the meme is often not feeling sad; they’re feeling whatever mood is portrayed by the song they choose, even if they preface it by saying they’re sad. So I was thinking the spell could be used almost like a musical mood ring.’

‘Very good,’ says Miss Possibelf. ‘Let’s take a few minutes to experiment with Penelope’s idea and see if you can find a combination of words that will make it work the way she described it. Remember, the key to casting magic is in the intention behind your words.’

The classroom dissolves into chatter. Penny turns halfway in her seat.

‘Which one of you am I spelling?’ she asks, sounding way too eager.

Agatha rolls her eyes. ‘Spell me.’

It’s probably for the best. Penny already thinks I talk about Baz too much; she probably doesn’t need to see what goes on inside my head.

‘Alexa, this is so sad,’ Penny casts. A soft, slow song starts playing. It sounds like it’s coming from somewhere just above Agatha’s head. I don’t recognise it, but it’s a woman’s voice, something about feeling lost and lonely. I didn’t know Agatha felt that way.

I try casting the spell on Penny, but now Despacito decides to start playing. Two seats across from me, Baz is watching, smirking. Typical, he mouths. Fuck you, I mouth back.

I’m too worked up now to concentrate, glancing at him every few seconds, and he’s not looking at me but I know he knows I’m doing it. The spell plays Despacito every time. At least now it’s doing something. Then, finally, I forget about Baz and focus on Penny and it actually works, playing some upbeat confidence anthem, which I guess makes sense since she just invented a spell that the whole class is now using. Grinning, I turn my head to find Baz – I wish the first thing I thought of wasn’t whether or not he saw me cast the spell, but he’s always the first thing I think of – but he’s not even watching. I deflate.

Miss Possibelf calls the class back to order. ‘Let’s have a demonstration in front of the class that we can all discuss. Penelope? Basilton?’

I sigh. Of course she chooses Baz. Penny better show him up.

He walks to the front of the classroom like he owns the place, which he probably thinks he does. Reminding me, again, that he’s an arrogant prick and probably evil, and I ask myself if I was out of my mind thinking about him the way I have been. Not for the first time, not for the fiftieth.

Then he meets my eyes, and I’m captivated all over again.  

He has to stop doing that. Looking for me in a crowd, even if it’s only for a second. Lifting his chin in my direction every time he does something impressive in class, like he’s showing off for me the way I try to for him. Even though I know he just does it to drive home the fact that he’s better than me.

Penny and Baz stand at the front of the room, almost like they’re facing off. He lifts his wand and she points her ring at him.

‘Alexa, this is so sad,’ Baz casts, his voice steady, confident. The opposite of mine. The same song that played before plays again, so at least I know I did it right. It’s just typical that he wasn’t paying attention the one time I didn’t fuck up.

Then it’s Penny’s turn. ‘Alexa, this is so sad,’ she says.

A pop song fills the room, which is the last thing I expected. It’s not dark or edgy at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s Taylor Swift.

You’ve ruined my life by not being mine, she sings.

Baz starts, glancing around him quickly, wand at the ready. I sit up straighter in my chair.

I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.

The class has started whispering. The song is so unlike Baz. And it’s clearly about unrequited love.

He does his best to sneer at Penelope, but even from here I can see he’s shaken. ‘That’s enough, Bunce,’ he says. She lowers her ring, but the music doesn’t stop.

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine, I feel like I might sink and drown and die.

Impossibly, his cheeks are tinged pink. Baz never blushes, even when he’s furious with me.

He lifts his wand. ‘Silence!’ The classroom goes silent, except for a few giggles. I might be staring at him open-mouthed, but I’m too shocked to care.

He fancies someone. I don’t know why that’s so hard to imagine, especially because imagining it is all I seem to do these days, but it is. He just seems so cold, so in control, like there’s nobody who could shake him like that.

‘Since when do you -’ Dev starts.

‘It’s Mordelia,’ Baz snaps. ‘She’s been listening to it on repeat.’

He doesn’t take his eyes off Penny, glaring at her like he’s trying to burn a telepathic message into her brain. Death threats, probably.

She’s looking at him like he’s a problem she’s just figured out. ‘Blue eyes, huh?’ she says slowly.

‘It’s just a song.’

‘A song that describes your emotions,’ says Penny.

I’m staring at him, but now it’s allowed, because the whole class is. Everyone else probably can’t feel their magic burning the back of their throat, though.

‘There are cats in this song. I don’t even have a cat,’ Baz says, crossing his arms.

‘Ha! I knew you listened to it.’

‘Once. In passing. By accident.’

‘Admit it. You like it because you relate to it.’

‘Or your spell was defective,’ Baz counters. I want him to look at me. I think hard about it, as if the force of my thoughts could make it happen, as if the magic leaking out of me could make it happen. I want him to look at me, because it would mean he was thinking of me and slipped up and gave it away.

‘My spells are never defective,’ Penny huffs. She’s right.

‘There’s a reason why I’m top of the class and not you, Bunce.’ He still doesn’t look at me.

‘Yes, because I’m too busy being dread companion to a certain blue-eyed someone.’

Crowley. Does Penny know how I feel? Why would she say that?

He shakes his head, mutters something under his breath, and stalks back to his seat.

 PENNY

‘His eyes aren’t ocean blue.’ I think that’s what he said. ‘They’re just blue.’

 SIMON

I Google the song as soon as I get a chance.

There’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have.

Yeah. Yeah, I know what that’s like.

He flirts with Agatha after dinner. It makes me mad. I wonder if the song is about her. Nothing I hate more than what I can’t have. Does he know we broke up? But he doesn’t hate her. He hates –

Oh.

No.

I won’t do that to myself. I won’t even finish that thought.

But then I start noticing things I never noticed before. Like how he watches me almost as much as I watch him, only he’s so careful about it that I almost never catch him until I start trying. And how he never looks at Aggie unless she’s with me. I spend a whole day not looking at him and I notice that he’s in a foul mood after, picking on me for stupid things like my desk being messy. The more I ignore him, the meaner he gets. Or when Agatha and I go out to the Wood for spell practice – it’s easier to do stuff like that now that we’re not together, there’s less pressure – and he sees us walk back together, and then after dinner I find that he’s spelled my shoes together by their laces.

‘What the fuck did you do that for? We’re not twelve,’ I say.

‘I felt like it,’ he snarls.

(I walk down to breakfast in my socks the next morning and ask Penny to undo the spell for me. Better not to risk setting the shoes on fire.)

I bump into him in the hallway later and instinctively grab his arm. His whole body tenses, and I’m positive I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t looking so closely.

‘Sorry,’ I say. I hold on just a second too long – just to be close to him – and wait for him to pull away. He doesn’t. I let him go.

‘Watch where you’re going, you absolute numpty,’ he snarls.

I’m sure I’m just making this up. Reading into things that aren’t there, seeing what I want to see. I can’t help it.

‘You’re annoyingly optimistic,’ Baz told me once, in sixth year. ‘Though I suppose it’ll make it easier for me to catch you unguarded when I finally decide to get rid of you.’

He was right. It’s completely idiotic for me to even be entertaining the thought that he might not hate me, let alone feel what I feel.

Still. I buy the song. I listen to it every night. I hate you so much, she sings. I hate you so much, Baz tells me, with his eyes, every time he looks at me.

I’m not… I’m not anything. I can’t be the guy in the song. Especially not to him.

But he is. To me. It’s always been him.

 BAZ

Snow has started singing that infernal pop song.

In the shower. While he’s getting dressed. Humming while he’s doing homework.

You’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face…

Fuck him. Seriously, fuck him.

I’m not sure if he’s taking the piss or if he just really likes the song and can’t get it out of his head. (Alright, fine; it’s catchy. I did listen to it a few times.) He’s probably taking the piss. But there’s no way he’s figured out that he’s the one I’m in love with, because he’s far too thick. And because if he had, he would have done something about it by now. And not the kind of something that I wish he’d do.

Then he starts doing it when he passes me on the way to class, singing under his breath so only I hear him, so I know he’s taking the piss. Once I walk behind him in the morning when he’s fixing his hair in the mirror – since when does Snow fix his hair? – and he makes eye contact through the mirror and sings the line about ocean blue eyes. All the blood I drank last night goes to my cheeks.

‘Snow,’ I say, ‘you sound like a dying hyena.’ Though I can think of some ways to shut him up.

‘Who are you in love with?’ is his response.

I huff and don’t respond, stalking out of the room. Then I want to march back in there and give a proper retort, because he never catches me without a proper retort, and now he’ll know that he’s gotten to me.

In Politickal Science, I feel him trying to catch my eye the entire lesson. I refuse to give him the satisfaction, staring straight ahead or at my notes the entire time, but his stare burns almost as much as his magic and I can only stand it for so long. Finally, I give in and look over at him.

What? I mouth.

You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad, he mouths back, exaggerating all the vowels to make sure I catch it. I nearly choke.

I’m going to kill him. I really am. I’ll throw him into the moat and make sure the merwolves tear him limb from limb. Or I’ll wait until he pulls his sword on me and then I’ll slit his throat with it. Or I’ll kiss him until he can’t breathe.

One morning I’m woken up by the song suddenly blaring in my ear. I bolt upright and Snow’s not even in the room, though he’s probably on the other side of the door fleeing down the stairs. (He should be fleeing.) His laptop’s set up on the nightstand between our beds, the volume turned all the way up. Apparently rudely awakening me like this was worth leaving his computer in my hands, unprotected. I take the laptop, go to his email, and send a dumb and mildly insulting meme to the Mage. It’s a stupid prank, but I’m too rattled to think of anything better.

The day is halfway over before I remember that the Mage probably doesn’t even check his emails. He prefers to communicate through more magickal channels, like birds, which is ridiculous, but that’s the Mage. So Snow will probably never even know that I executed any kind of revenge plot, even as pathetic as it was.

He spends the rest of the day with a smug look on his face that I’d like to wipe right off it. It’s idiotic for him to be this proud of himself, and I’m completely smitten.

I should pull something awful to pay him back, but I can’t even seem to think around Snow anymore. For once in his life, he has the upper hand and he knows it. He sings the song in my direction, and I go mute. It’s like he’s finally figured out how to disarm me, and he hasn’t even worked out my real secret yet.

The more I react, the more he does it. If I stumble over my words after he smirks at me, he makes sure to do it again. Frequently. If I lose focus in class when he stares at me, he settles into his chair with his chin in his hand and doesn’t take his eyes off me for the entire lesson. And, Crowley, when he sees me tense up after he touches my hand, I know I’m done for.

‘Baz,’ he says then, his voice softer than it has any right to be, eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘Snow, stop flirting with me,’ I say. He should start spluttering and protesting and blushing, horrified at the suggestion, but he just sends a maddening grin over his shoulder and keeps walking.

I have no idea what in Merlin’s name any of this means. Snow isn’t capable of plotting. But he’s also not capable of… this. Whatever this is.

About a week later, I walk down to the Catacombs in the evening like I usually do to hunt, and I hear something, too faint to make out what it is, not far from the entrance. I follow the sound with my wand pulled out and I’m almost at the source when it dawns on me; it’s the fucking song again. When I find his laptop, it’s just sitting there on the ground with very little remaining battery life, the song queued up to play on repeat. He must have set this up and had it waiting for me hours ago.

It’s too much. All the staring and lingering touches, teasing me like this is all a joke to him.

I hunt quickly, then pick up the computer and march back up to our room. He’s asleep, not even waiting up to see my reaction to his little prank, and it’s utterly moronic for me to be disappointed by it, but I am. I slam the door behind me then flick on the light just in case that wasn’t enough to wake him. He bolts upright, his gaze going straight to my empty bed before he finds me in the doorway. I march over to the window, which he’s left open, of course, and hold the laptop up in front of it.

‘Give me one good reason not to chuck this into the moat,’ I say.

Snow squints at me, and it’s criminal for him to look so endearing while he does it. ‘Did you have to turn the light on for that? What time is it?’

‘Give me one reason, Snow.’

He groans and falls back onto his bed. ‘You won’t do it.’

I arch one eyebrow. ‘Don’t test me, Snow. You know I will.’

‘You won’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you like me too much?’ he tries.

I push the window open further and slide the laptop onto the ledge. He scrambles out of bed and walks over to me.

‘Come on, Baz,’ he says, holding his hands out in front of him like I’m an animal that might spook. ‘Look. I know that the song was for me.’

Fuck. He does know.

‘Last chance,’ I say, giving the laptop a nudge.

‘I’m the one that you hate,’ he says. ‘It wasn’t that hard to figure it out.’

I fight not to let my panic show on my face. He knows everything. After seven years of hiding it, tormenting him, letting him torment me. He hates me. I know he does. He looks so fucking thrilled.

I take a deep breath and pull my face into a sneer. ‘Really, Snow? You think I have romantic feelings for you?’

I want him to back down, or blush, but he does neither. ‘Do you?’

I laugh incredulously. ‘Crowley, you do think highly of yourself, don’t you?’

He just shrugs. ‘Not as highly as you, apparently.’

I swallow. At least I manage to hold his gaze. Thank snakes for those three inches I have on him so I can at least pretend I’m still okay, that I’m not bracing myself for him to punch me in the gut, whether physically or figuratively.

‘You’re the one who’s been serenading me with that fucking song,’ I say. It’s a weak retort and we both know it. I should kiss him just to make him back off. At the very least I should toss his laptop into the moat, just to show him I would.

He shrugs again. ‘Well, yeah,’ is all he says.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He looks at me like I’m being slow. Which is my fucking job.

‘It means I fancy you,’ he says, with a massive roll of his eyes. ‘Hadn’t you figured that out yet?’

‘You what?’ This is not happening.

‘I,’ he says, and swallows. His eyes drop to my lips. (This is definitely not happening.) ‘I like you.’

I shake my head and step back. ‘No,’ I say. ‘You’re fucking with me.’

He stares at me, looking affronted. ‘I’m not fucking with you.’

‘No, this –’ I say, waving my hand in the general of direction of his face, his moles that I’d kiss, his mouth that’s saying these ridiculous things – ‘isn’t real. You hate me.’

Snow steps forward and grabs my hand. ‘I don’t hate you. Baz, you can have me.’

I don’t pull away. I should, but I don’t. It feels so nice, having him hold my hand, and Crowley, I’m pathetic.

‘Awfully bold of you to assume that I want you,’ I mutter, but there’s no bite behind it, because he’s brushing his thumb over the back of my hand and leaning in and I’m practically swooning.

And then he kisses me.

 SIMON

I can’t believe he’s actually letting me do this.

I’m kissing Baz. And he’s kissing me back. And he’s tangling his hand in my hair, the other hand still holding tightly onto mine.

‘Simon,’ he keeps whispering, between kisses. I can’t believe he thought I was just messing with him. I can’t believe he thought I wouldn’t want this.

‘Baz,’ I say, pulling him closer.

It’s even better than I hoped it would be.

[thecruciblegavemeyou]

swim au

im on a fucking rolllllllllll 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

ao3

Simon

I shuffled back and forth as Agatha twisted the lid off the soup while Penny argued she could do it herself.

“Si, stop fidgeting and just sit!” Pen hissed, glancing at me from her bed.

I slunk over to Trixie’s desk on the other side of the room. “Sorry. How do you feel?” I asked, spinning in slow circles on Trixie’s desk chair.

“Oh, just peachy. I love being on lockdown with my insufferable roommate for thirty six hours straight.” She moaned.

Pen’s roommate Trixie was… interesting. Penny got frustrated with her because she’d walked in on Trixie and her girlfriend Keris fooling around 100 times too many.

“I don’t have a problem with their relationship , I have a problem with them fooling around on my bed .” Penny explained, frustrated enough for wild arm movements.

My roommate might be out to kill me, but at least he didn’t bring girls back to the room. Sometimes we could hear the boys below us messing around. I don’t think the ceilings are as thick as the boys think they are (I wish that they didn’t enjoy narrating it so much).

I was always surprised that Baz never brought girls back. Maybe he does, but only when I’m not there. But I would’ve caught him at least once, I think. Every girl in our class is in love with him, it’s not like he’d have any trouble with it. Maybe I’ll ask him later. Or maybe not. We might still be fighting from this morning. I wonder what would happen if I asked him about girls. He might finally take me out.

“What’d she do this time?” I indulged her. She liked complaining about Trixie as much as I used to enjoy complaining about Baz.

“She just… she tried to read me a book, and her and Trixie took turns acting it out,” She shuddered,  “acting is not a talent either of them possess.” I could see them now. They were a colorful pair.

Agatha laughed softly. It wasn’t quite giggling, but more light and airy. Like a butterfly. But it didn’t make me blush the way it used to. I dug my fingers into my palms and watched Penny and Agatha as she tried to force feed Pen the soup, only managing to pour it down her shirt. Penny shrieked and Agatha rushed for the tissues.

“Penny, have you finished that assignment for drawing and painting yet?”

“No, and I still can’t believe you convinced me to take that bloody art class with you.”

Agatha smirked. “It’s fun.”

“It’s a waste of time.” Anything that didn’t involve books was a waste of time to Penny. She read more than any person I’d ever met. I promised her when we were little that if I ever became rich I’d buy her the biggest library in the world, “ My personal Library of Alexandria. ” She’d said. I still don’t know what she meant by that (must be a big library).

“It’s good for you. Art is relaxing.” Agatha argued. She was a decent artist. She really liked doodling other people. When I first met her, I thought the portraits of our classmates in the margins of her notes were creepy (they were still a little odd) but they were so good that you couldn’t help being impressed.

“Art is annoying, it never looks the way you want it to.” (Penny was not an artist).

I listened to them babble for awhile before I tuned them out.

Agatha peeked at the clock. It was only seven. We’d been here an hour already, and I’d barely said a word. I wasn’t talkative usually, but I could see Penny eyeing me. She knew something was up (she always figured me out).

“Merlin, I’ve got to go start my homework. I’ve got a paper due.” Agatha sighed, getting up and making her way to me.

My stomach flipped as she leaned over to give me a kiss (just on the cheek). I could smell her perfume, she was so close. Her lips pressed into my cheek, leaving a cold impression of whatever chapstick she was wearing. I could feel my face heat up as she walked out the door and Penny had a knowing smirk on her face. I wiped off the chapstick smudge.

“Are you two really back together again? I thought you weren’t going to ask her out again.” Pen scolded (she loved us both, but she thought we kinda sucked as a couple).

“But she asked me out this time. I was too shocked to say no.” I mumbled.

She rewarded me with a look of pure shock for that. “Would you have said no?”

I didn’t look up to meet her eyes. I don’t know what I would have said. I don’t know if Agatha and I are endgame. I don’t know anything anymore.

“Si?” She asked, coughing up a lung in the process. I was half-tempted to open the window, wondering if the fresh air would do her any good.

“I dunno, Pen. Everything’s so- and then the phone- also under the bed… Baz and Agatha… the team- what do I do?”

The room was silent for a minute, “You might have to elaborate on phones, beds, and Baz and Agatha before I can help. I don’t really see the connection.” She said, reaching for the tissues. I got up and locked the door, and then tossed her the box of tissues before she fell out of bed trying to get them. Stubborn.

So I explained everything; David, the money, Agatha, Baz being pissy, having to quit the team… I still hadn’t told her about Baz and I becoming kinda friends. I don’t think I want to. Hanging out with Baz in the mornings still felt like a dirty little secret (has he told Dev and Niall?).

“Firstly, you don’t owe your dad a cent. Just ignore him. He can’t do anything about it.”

I gulped. She had no idea what David Snow would do to me if he didn’t get what he wanted. I never told Penny what home was like. She’d worry too much over her summer vacation, and she already worried enough about me during the school term.

“Secondly, Baz is always pissy. What do you care this time?” I felt my face heat up.

“Yeah, I’m just… sick of arguing all the time, I guess.” She gave me a half-hearted sympathy-smile.

“Third, you definitely shouldn’t quit the team. I know Baz drives you crazy and you probably don’t want to mess up with Agatha this time, but you love swimming. You should see your face when you talk about it. And I want to see you compete this weekend.”

“But-”

“And lastly, Agatha. You’ve wanted this forever. What’s the problem now? Come on, Simon. Maybe she’s really over her bad boy phase.” Penny sniffled, blowing her nose for the tenth time in five minutes.

My heart skipped a beat. “Huh?”

“When she dumped you for Baz?” Penny shrugged.

“She dumped me for Baz.” I whispered.

Penny’s eyes went wide and moony. “Oh, Si… I thought you knew.”

“I’ve got to go-”

“Si!” she yelled after me, but I was already gone.

It took me ten minutes to find Agatha’s room in the maze that is Watford’s girl dormitory, but I found it. I FOund it, and I found her humming along with her music.

“Agatha.” I huffed, slightly out of breath (you’d really think I was in better shape by now).

“Oh, hey Simon.” She smiled, pulling out a headphone. I looked into her eyes. They were soft and brown and she looked like she had no idea what was coming.

“Why’d you ask me out again? I thought you said you were done. You owe me an explanation.” I demanded.

“I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship before. But I missed you; talking to you, our inside jokes, I missed you. A lot.”

“But why now? Did Baz reject you?” I snapped. I knew I was being cruel. I knew I was ruining this. It was unnecessary, but a life with Agatha is all I’d wanted since first year. That, and a new roommate. And she’d dumped me to chase after my roommate, the boy who’d been out to get me for years. And when that didn’t work out-

“Excuse me?” Agatha looked horrified. And a little pissed. But I wasn’t backing down now. This argument was years in the making. Even before our breakup made things tense, we never confronted each other about things. We never talked.

“You dumped me for Baz.” I swear the room dropped a few degrees. A draft floated in through the open window and I shivered (still wishing I’d thought enough to bring a jumper).

I could see the muscles in her jaw tighten, “ Penelope .”

So she really did. She dumped me for Baz, and she had the nerve to tell Penny.

“Seriously, Agatha?” I asked. My voice cracked. I thought I’d finished with that by sixth year, but apparently not.

She wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Simon… we weren’t working out, and I know you hate him but Baz and I always got along-”

“You dumped me because you would rather be with him.” I said. My voice had never sounded so cold.

“But we’re together now-” She whispered.

“That’s where you’re wrong. No, we’re not.” I finished. I ignored the prickling heat behind my eyes. Losing Agatha was too much for me. Especially after the past two days I’d had. This was the cherry on top of the sundae.

It surprised me that the thing I wanted to do most was go to the pool with Baz, to our little world inside of the Watford natatorium where nothing else mattered.

[arituzz]

Party Games 5

-SNOWBAZ-

How to fall for your enemy—A Dummies Guide

[1. Set the game] [2. Play like you mean it] [3. Keep playing and don’t ask] [4. Poker Face] [5. Play dirty] [6. Show him what you’ve got] [7. (Don’t) Fall in the trap] [8. Cards on the table] [9. Play the game of love]

Summary: Baz and Simon play more than just a party game. But, what happens when the player gets played? What if they aren’t playing at all? Well… then they burn.

Chapter word count: ~3.2k

Rating: M

Tags: Watford, eighth year AU, alcohol, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, NSFW, smut, mutual pining, fluff, alternating POV first person

Also on AO3

Thank you @eroticgropefest for being my amazing beta!

@ellea-nikki, @indigo-gold-17 here you go ♡ ♡

5. Play dirty: Try slapping when kisses don’t work

SIMON

“Four times?” Penny is giving me a Simon-are-you-off-your-trolley stare that not even her thick glasses can buffer. “You’ve slept with him four times,” she accuses, rather than asks. Pure Penny style.

“Not with him,” I tell her. “Beside him, rather.”

She adjusts her glasses with her middle finger and decides she’s done with lunch. “Different preposition,” she says. “Same difference.” She’s now giving me her patented Judgemental Stare. This is bad.

“Merlin, Penny,” I protest, taking her plate and stuffing the last piece of roast beef in my mouth. “There’s a huge difference, and you know it,” I mumble.

“Fine,” she gives in, softening her features. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah.” I fix my eyes on the now empty plate. If only we were allowed to repeat lunch, then I could avoid this conversation. Plus, more food. Double win. “Baz is evil and has a plan to finish me off, but I’m one step ahead this time,” I say, my eyes still on the plate.

“I’ll regret asking this later but,” Penny pauses for a moment, as if reconsidering it. “What is this evil plan, exactly?”

“Oh, uhm,” I say to the plate. “Baz is… Trying to…” I take a breath and say, “He wants to seduce me and attack me when my guard is down.”

Penny lets out a laugh. A loud one.

In my defense I’ll say it sounded better in my head. Why do some things lose all sense when you say them aloud?

I look up at her again.

“Nicks and Slick, you’re serious,” she realizes. “Attack you how? With his mouth?” She tries and fails to suppress another laugh, then continues, “So what are you doing to fight this terrifying plan of his?”

“I’m making him fall for me instead.”

“I think you have no idea what you’re doing,” she says, so matter-of-factly that it leaves no place for arguing. Penny usually has that effect on people.

Breaking news -- I may have no idea what I’m doing.

We start heading out of the dining hall in silence and I think she’s going to leave without any further discussion when she stops and turns around, looking at me. Studying me. Penelope’s studying face can be very frightening. Hands down one of the most terrifying things I’ve seen. And I’ve killed a dragon. “Are you sure you don’t…” she starts. “Like him?”

Wait. What?

“I don’t like Baz,” I hurry to say. “He’s the enemy.”

“You’ve slept with the enemy, Simon,” she says. “Four times.”

“I’ve slept beside the enemy. Since first year,” I clarify. “And you kissed Agatha during the game, too, that doesn’t mean you like her, does it?”

“Yeah but we don’t go around snogging between classes.”

“You saw that?”

“You’re not being as sneaky as you think.”

“Anyway, it’s not like he likes me either… He hates me,” I say, realising for the first time that I’m not exactly happy about that. “And I don’t like him,” I add.

“Okay,” Penny says.

I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t like him,” I repeat.

“Sure, Simon.” I can see she’s trying hard not to laugh.

“I don’t,” I insist.

Penny raises one of her accusing eyebrows and says, “Nobody said you did.”

“You asked. I just want to make it clear.”

“Yeah, Simon. You made it clear.” Penny stares me down, smiling like she knows better. (She always does.) (Know better.)

“Let’s play Slap or Kiss tomorrow and you’ll see,” I suggest. “I’m going to slap him so hard.”

“What about the evil plan and your,” she pauses. I see the corners of her lips fighting a smirk. “Clever comeback?”

“This will confuse him.”

“Simon.”

“What?”

“It’s ridiculous,” she says. “This will backfire. Spectacularly. Like most of your plans do.”

Okay, she has a point.

“I don’t. Like him,” I insist for the last time.

“Okay,” Penny finally concedes. She breaks her know-it-all façade and grabs my arm.  “Just-- Be careful.”

I can’t bring myself to face Baz until it’s nighttime and I have no other option but to go to our room.

I open the door, hoping he’s still out there somewhere, or already asleep, or transformed into a really small and ugly insect. Preferably the kind that doesn’t sting. Although if Baz was an insect, he’d be a mosquito. Or a louse. You know, a bloodsucker.

But no. Of course not.

He’s on his bed, still as human as the last time I saw him. (Not much.) He’s looking at me as if I’m his husband and I arrive two hours late for dinner. He looks… hurt. And angry. Is it because I’ve been avoiding him?

“Baz,” I say. “Are you okay?”

Baz schools his features and steers his attention back to his book. “Since when do you care?”

“I don’t,” I lie. “I was just being polite.”

“Save it,” he says, dismissively.

Whatever. He can be hurt and angry on his own. He’s not my husband. Not my insect. Not my anything.

(Well, he’s my roommate.) (And lover.)

(No. He’s just my roommate.)

(Isn’t he?)

“This thing that’s going on between us…” I start, taking a step towards him. “We should stop.”

“What thing?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

He lifts his eyes from his book and looks back up at me. Not a trace of emotion left. “Sure,” he says.

I stand there, right before Baz’s bed. Looking at him.

“What else do you want, Snow?”

I step a little closer and start leaning in, but I stop midway from Baz’s lips. Baz has closed his eyes. “Nothing,” I say, standing back up. “Ah, yes,” I remember.  “Do you want to join us tomorrow for a late evening game?” I ask him. “Dev and Niall, too.”

He opens his eyes again, a mixture of surprise and suspicion in his eyes. And… disappointment? “We aren’t friends, Snow,” he says.

“We’re playing Slap or Kiss.”

He seems to consider it for a moment. “Fine, Snow. We’ll come,” he finally agrees. “Can I read now?”

“Truce, then?”

I extend my hand for him to shake. (Maybe I just want to touch him.)

He keeps staring at me, and I keep waiting, craving for his touch. Like the first time we met.

“Truce,” he says after approximately one hundred years, and takes my hand.

I linger a moment longer than necessary.

How can someone feel so cold but so warm at the same time?

 BAZ

It doesn’t do me any good to come to these weekend game encounters with Snow and his stupid pack. It doesn’t do me any good to stare at his stupid face with all his stupid moles and his stupid blue eyes. It definitely doesn’t do me any good, either, to imagine my fingers running through his stupid tousled curls.

Crowley, I want to kiss him. And slap him.  I want to slap him, then kiss him.

“Okay, so the game goes like this,” Bunce starts. “Someone spins the bottle.”

“It’s not spelled this time,” Snow chimes in.

Bunce continues, “Whoever it lands on, has to leave the room. While they’re gone, we all vote whether the person who spun the bottle should slap or kiss that other person. Whichever option gets the most votes is what you have to do.”

“Now that’s what I call fun,” Dev comments, grinning.

Niall materialises a bottle of whisky from under his cape and pours each one of us a glass.  I have to ask him where he gets those from.

I take my glass and put it aside. I’ve learned my lesson, thank you very much. Booze -- not the kind of friend I want to invite to my parties. (More like the kind I want to drown my sorrows in.)

“Niall, you’re the best, mate,” the belt buckle guy---Gareth, I think---says, patting Niall’s back. When did these two become friends?

“So… who goes first?” Niall asks, taking a sip of his glass.

Wellbelove shrugs and says, “I’ll go.” She reaches out and spins the bottle.

It lands on Dev. He makes an annoyed face and goes out of the room.

“I vote you slap him,” Snow says. He holds his drink in his hands and takes a gulp.

Only to see Niall’s reaction, I say, “I vote they kiss.”

Immediately after, Niall says, “Slap,” without hesitating. The rest vote and slap wins out.

Wellbelove lets Dev back in and they settle in the middle of the crowd.

Dev exchanges a quick look with Niall. Seriously, what is going on with them? Are they mad at each other?

“Sorry, Dev, you’re not my type,” Wellbelove says, and slaps him. I don’t think anybody is her type.

It’s the pixie’s turn. She spins the bottle and it lands on Bunce. The vote is unanimous -- we all want them to kiss. Even Keris. The pixie doesn’t seem to mind.

When Bunce returns, the pixie grabs her face and forces her lips onto Bunce’s. And Bunce forces back.  It’s almost like they’re fighting, instead of kissing. A hate-kiss.

Bunce’s irritation is almost palpable after that.

Then Keris spins the bottle and Snow has to leave the room. He takes a sip of his glass and gets up.

“Slap,” I say, smirking, before he even gets out. He spares me a quick, disgruntled glance and turns for the door.

Snow comes back in, only to be slapped by Keris. I grace him with a satisfied grin, and the game goes on.

 SIMON

Penny kisses Agatha again.

I don’t have time to think about whether I’m okay with that before it’s my turn.

I spin the bottle and I wish it lands on Baz. Because I want to slap him. (Because I want to kiss him.)

But the bottle stops right before Gareth. Shit. I down my whisky and pour myself some more.

“Slap,” I hear Baz saying as soon as the door closes behind Gareth. Tosser. He wants me to hurt my friends. Is this some kind of psychological game of his to drive me insane?

Well, fuck him, because the rest vote for kiss. I’m going to kiss him so hard.

I look at Baz while I kiss Gareth. I take his face with my hands and move it slightly to the side, this way I can have a better sight of Baz.

Baz’s eyes are blazing into mine.

And then I wink at him. So subtly he might not even notice.

 BAZ

Snow is not a subtle winker. Not a subtle anything.

After the display, the game continues. Rhys kisses Keris; Gareth slaps Rhys.

I spare some glances at Snow and catch him drinking from his glass every time.

Then Niall spins the bottle and it lands on Snow.

I raise my head to look at him as I say, “Slap.”

“Basil!” Bunce protests.

“What?” I say. “I’m always going to vote for Snow to be slapped.”

I smirk.

Simon leaves the room.

 SIMON

After Niall slaps me, Baz spins the bottle and it stops before me again. There is no way that’s a coincidence.

Baz keeps smirking.

I finish my second glass and leave the room.

Baz is plotting against me again, I know it. He’s custom-built to scheme. Another day -- another plot.

Baz comes for me and my stomach flips in anticipation. I follow him to the middle of the circle.

What’s he going to do? Kiss me? Slap me?

Kiss me.

Baz places his fingers on my cheek. I missed his cold-warm touch. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw.

He’s going to kiss me.

 BAZ

I feel Simon leaning to my touch and I open my eyes again. His eyes are closed, lips parted.

And then I do it.

I slap him. Hard.

Simon opens his puppy eyes and, for a moment, I think he’s going to start crying. First-year me would be so proud.

My hand is still on his reddish cheek. And the world has gone silent. Only Simon’s breath exists and my hand on his cheek.

Almost inconsciously, I lean in and kiss him. Fuck the rules.

 SIMON

“That’s enough you two lovebirds,” I hear someone saying. “You always ruin all the games.”

“Yeah, let’s keep playing,” another person adds.

I don’t care. I live here now. The rest of the world be damned.

But then Baz’s warm-cold fingers and warm-cold mouth stop touching me and I’m forced back with the rest of the world.

I take my place beside Penny.

People keep getting slapped and kissed, and I keep refilling my glass.

Three glasses of whisky don’t affect me much. Or was it four glasses? Anyway, I feel perfectly cool.

Baz hasn’t touched his drink at all today. Good. He can’t handle alcohol like I do.

But why is it so hot in here? Has someone spelled the room?

 BAZ

Snow should stop drinking.

His cheeks are impossibly red and his motor coordination is even worse than in normal circumstances.

He’s arguing with Bunce---or rather, he’s arguing with himself---about the room’s temperature and accusing her of  casting ‘Some like it hot’.

Everyone knows you can’t cast that on a room. Even he should know that.

Soon enough, Snow gets tired of the absurd discussion and attacks his glass. Again.

I can’t bring myself to look away.

He looks back at me in a way that makes my brain short circuit.

 SIMON

I subtly bite my lower lip.

 BAZ

Help.

 SIMON

I see Baz standing up and for a moment I think---I wish---he’s coming for me, but then I realise the bottle is pointing at him.

No. Someone has spun the bottle, and it has landed on Baz.

Baz steps out of the room and people start voting. “Slap,” more than one person say.

“Hey! No,” I say, without intending to speak. “Don’t slap him!” Words just come out of my mouth on their own will.

I don’t know if it’s because of me protesting but the rest all vote kiss.

Somebody is going to kiss Baz.

“Wait, no. No, no, no, no. Don’t kiss him!” I think I say. “Just slap him. I vote slap. But softly, okay? Don’t hurt him.”

Niall gets up and goes for the door. “Relax, Snow. It’s just a game. I’m not going to steal your boyfriend,” he says. So, it’s him. He has landed on Baz. And he is going to kiss Baz.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” I say.

Niall looks down at me, and then at Dev, but all he says is, “Whatever.”

My fists clench. “Don’t fucking kiss him, Niall,” I say through gritted teeth.

But nobody cares. Niall reaches for the doorknob and lets Baz in.

I drink down the remaining whisky in my glass.

 BAZ

I walk behind Niall until we’re in the middle of the group.

Niall looks somewhere behind me, probably at Gareth or Dev. He’s spelled his eyes muddy blue today, but the spell is unstable and the effect is starting to wear off.

Speaking of blue eyes and unstable things. Snow looks like he might go nova at any second. He’s a fucking ticking time bomb that talks. And drinks. And looks back.

“Oh, fuck it,” I hear Niall say, right before he crashes his lips against mine.

There’s a haze of red around Simon. Fuck. He is going to go off.

Simon.

I shove Niall away. “Simon.”

“Simon,” Bunce echoes, unsuccessfully trying to calm him down. He’s so out of it.

Before I realise it, I’m right in front of him. “Simon,” I repeat. I get down on my knees and I touch his cheek with the back of my hand.

“Baz.” Simon smiles. “You’re so cold.”

And then I kiss him. Softly. Slowly. Like before.

And Simon calms down.

I take hold of Simon’s shoulders and lift him up. “Let’s go, Snow,” I say.

“Where are you taking him?” Wellbelove asks, like I’m about to sacrifice him in a satanic ritual.

“To our room,” I say, dryly.

But she isn’t having any of it. “Did you poison him?” she accuses.

“No, we didn’t poison him, Wellbelove. He did that himself,” I say. “He’s just drunk.”

Bunce turns to her and tells her, “It’s okay, Agatha.”

Wellbelove looks at her quizzically and asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she says.

I nod at Bunce’s direction. She nods back.

And I take it as my cue to leave.

It’s a hard trip all the way up to Mummers House, with Snow tugging at the hem of my uniform blazer, demanding my attention like a five-year-old.

“Baz, kiss me,” he says as I drop him on his bed.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am in love with you, stupid, and you are just playing, and it hurts,” I say, but only silence comes out of my mouth.

“Why not?” he asks again.

All I manage to say is, “You’re drunk, Snow.”

He furrows his brow and I think he’s going to deny it, but instead he says, “Call me Simon. You’ve done it before.”

“No. I haven’t,” I lie. “Shut up and sleep.”

“Okay.” he says, reluctantly. He manages to ungracefully change into his pyjamas, which is more than I gave him credit for. And then he adds, “Good night kiss?”

It doesn’t do me any good to even think about it. It does me even less good to actually do it. In fact, I think I’m digging my own grave with this.

But I do it anyway.

I kiss him and I let his hands run through my hair and I let him catch the moan that comes out from my throat. Because I’m weak.

Simon’s hands travel down and I almost let them play with the hem of my pyjama bottoms. But no, I’m not that weak.

It's hard---so damn hard--- but I stop Simon’s hands from going any further.

I should run to the catacombs. That would be the wisest option.

But Simon… I can’t leave him on his own. Not like this.

He’s sprawled on his back and I think he might have passed out. I poke at his shoulder and he groans at me.

Beautiful.

I pull his blanket over his body and tell him, “Sleep, Snow.”

He only harrumphs.

I stand there before him and I can’t bring myself to look away. I think I could stay like this all night. All week. The rest of my life. Because, yes, it hurts to look at him. But it’s unbearably painful when I don’t.

“Baz.”

“Yes?”

“Stay,” he whispers. “Please.”

No. None of this does me any good. In this life, there are different kinds of people: There are winners. There are losers. And then… Then there’s me.

I lay on the bed beside him. “Good night, love,” I say, kissing his temple.

But he’s already asleep.

[Next Chapter]