Chapter Text
Simon
The punch table contains a pitiful amount of refreshments. You’d think a Leavers Ball would at least have sandwiches. Lamenting this, I step further into the shadows, pulling my wings closer to my body and hunching my shoulders. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to me—the debunked Chosen One.
Well, until Baz wants everyone to see.
Baz shoots me glances from across the room where he talks to teachers and parents, accepting various compliments on his speech. I’m sure it was fantastic, but to be honest, I didn’t pay a lick of attention.
Oh, I paid attention to him alright—he’s wearing a suit—but I couldn’t tell you what he said, content just to look at him. It’s been a while since we’d last seen each other.
Everything went to shit at Christmas.
It’s my fault, I know. Even though we’d agreed the Mage couldn’t be trusted, I couldn’t not tell him about me being the Humdrum. The argument we had was awful. Penny was talking about running away to America, and Baz was yelling. I just left.
Flew away.
The Mage died, but the wings and tail are here to stay. Penny’s spelled them invisible for me, but I feel like a fool whenever I look in the mirror.
How far the Chosen One has fallen. No magic and new monster parts.
But Baz is crossing the floor to me now, and the wings are the furthest thing from my mind. It’s been too long since I’ve held him, too long since we’ve kissed.
“Hi,” I say, wondering if I can grab his hand yet or if that comes later. “I was hoping there’d be more food here.”
“Me too,” Baz agrees, eyeing the punch. “It’d give me something to do with my hands at the least.”
“You nervous?”
“Are you not?” Baz laughs dryly.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” Baz says quickly. He looks over at me softly and takes my hand into his. “You still up for it?”
I smile. “It being kissing you? I’m always up for that.”
Baz nods more times than necessary and grips my hand tighter. “Let’s dance first.”
Baz
Everyone’s looking at us.
Simon and I are supposed to be enemies—not dance partners. I don’t dare look over at my mother. Not until Simon and I are done.
Something wraps around my calf, and I try to shake it off before remembering Simon’s newly acquired (currently invisible) limbs. (I still don’t understand the point of the fucking tail.)
“Sorry,” Simon says, and the faint pressure against my leg fades. “It kind of has a mind of its own.”
“It’s alright.”
Dancing is a rather strong word for what we’re doing. We’re mostly just swaying with our hands on each other’s shoulders. Side to side. I let myself gaze into his eyes. That’s the real point of dancing, I think, getting an excuse to just look.
I could count every mole. Map a path from freckle to freckle. Or just hold his gaze and watch him blush.
I swallow down my nerves and look at him expectantly. If I wait any longer, I’ll lose my nerve.
He bites his lip. “Now?”
“Now.”
And maybe it’s pathetically romantic, but the stars seem to align. The thought of my mother and her watching passes through my mind, but I find that I don’t even care. The room has shrunk down to the size of Simon and me. I hold my breath. Simon leans up, and I reach down.
The birds sing, and the music swells, and Simon kisses me.
Simon
Baz ushers me off the dance floor once the song ends. The eyes of the crowd follow us, and when I sneak a glance at the headmistress she looks downright murderous. But Baz…
Baz is electric. His face is split with a wide grin, and when he finds his mother’s eyes in the crowd, he merely holds our joined hands up to show her with a look of glee. It’s petty.
I love it.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, breathless already.
“Outside,” he says. “I wanna kiss you properly.”
We’re outside for barely a second before he has me pressed against the brick wall. He kisses me with a fervour that I’ve never seen from him before. My tail winds its way around him, and my wings beat against the brick. I want to wrap him up, cocoon him inside of them.
Baz pulls back, and my tail clings to him.
“Sorry,” he says, catching his breath.
“For what?”
Baz just laughs and drops his head into the crook of my neck. “You’re perfect.”
“So are you.”
“My mother,” Baz declares. “Did you see her face?”
“And we’re happy about that?” I check, rubbing my hands up and down his back. I can’t get over touching him. It’s been too long. Text messages and phone calls aren’t the same thing.
As I feel him breathe under me, I know that I never want to leave him for that long again.
“I’m fucking ecstatic.” Baz pulls back and grabs both of my hands. “She wanted me to just play along, let her do this quietly, and I shot that plan in the foot. We’re probably all anyone’s talking about in there. Everyone who talks to my mother will have to sidestep the elephant in the room.”
His hands are cold in mine, but his face is warm with emotion. I want to bottle up his expression. Paint it on the insides of my eyelids.
“I’m finally done with it. I’m no longer playing her game,” Baz says. “It’s over. It’s all over.”
And I know how much those words mean. It’s all over. The Humdrum. The Mage. Watford. Baz having to deal with his mother.
This is the final song in a musical, the last chapter of a book.
Where do we go from here?
“I love you,” I tell him, because that’s what matters.
“I love you too,” he says, and I know it’ll be okay.
We stand there for a long moment, and it’s only interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind us.
Baz and I turn to find Katie. She stands to the side, her hands rest in her pockets, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
“Hi,” she says shyly. “Can I talk to Baz?”
Baz
Katie and I walk a couple paces away from Simon. She doesn’t say anything right away, just kicks at the ground with her feet.
“So you and Simon, huh?” Katie asks, breaking the silence. Her face is unreadable. I blame her upbringing.
I nod.
Katie nods back. She gives me a small peace offering of a smile. “He is kinda cute. I— I’m sorry about… Mum.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Katie nods again, and I wish there wasn’t such a divide between us. I wish I hadn’t retreated so far into myself. I wish I could have kept her.
“I’ll visit you at Fiona’s,” Katie says, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. “And Simon knows that you’re…?”
“A vampire?” It’s getting easier for me to say it. The word doesn’t seem as loaded anymore. “Yes.”
“And he… doesn’t care?”
I can’t help my grin. “Yeah, somehow, he doesn’t mind it.”
Katie smiles back. “That’s good. I… I don’t care either, Baz. I never have.”
“I know.” My eyes fall to my feet. “It was me who cared so much. I was the one who pushed you away.”
“I understand.” Katie reaches out and takes my hand. Her fingers are warm compared to mine. Her skin darker. Yet our hands can both bring the same flame. “But I’m not letting you do it again.”
“I won’t,” I promise.
Katie nods one more time and lets go of my hands. She excuses herself, and I let Simon envelop me, wrapping me up in arms and invisible wings alike.
“How’d it go?” he asks.
“Good,” I tell him. “Really good actually.”
“Should we go back inside?” Simon asks. “Do we have to?”
“We should make one more reappearance I think.”
“I was really hoping there’d be sandwiches.”
“How about this,” I turn around so I can wrap my arms around him too. “We go back in there for a little bit, and then we go raid the kitchen until Fiona comes looking for us? Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Everyone falls quiet when Simon and I walk back inside. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. But I get to watch my mother choke on her drink at our return—my hand still wrapped around Simon’s.
Simon and I mill about the edges of the room, but soon we’re interrupted again. This time by my father.
He had to find me eventually, I suppose.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he says quietly. Simon touches me lightly on the shoulder before stepping back to give us some space.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, then instantly regret sounding so bitter. I’m supposed to be above this.
He’s silent for a moment, then: “You gave a nice speech. A good end to your time at Watford.”
“Thank you.”
“Any parent would be proud of how well you’ve done in school.”
I nod, feeling my jaw clench. Is this how he wants it to be? He’s not even going to mention me kissing my enemy in front of everyone? Just going to keep pretending we’re some kind of happy family, making vague small talk.
But then, he starts to speak again.
“I’m sorry.” He pauses after this and worries his lip. “I’m sorry about the way everything’s working out. It’s not what I’d have chosen.”
I shrug, biting back angry responses I don’t have the energy to give.
“I know that’s partly my fault,” he continues. “I should have tried to be more like Fiona with your whole… thing.”
I snort. I can’t blame him for avoiding the word—not when I do the same thing—but, really.
It’s too little too late.
I’m tired of being in this room, tired of being the centre of attention. All I want to do is follow Simon to the kitchen and stuff ourselves with sandwiches. I don’t have the patience for my father’s coded language and half-apologies.
“I’m gay,” I say—a bit of a non-sequitur. “If the vampire thing is too hard to wrap your head around, you can just pretend you got rid of me because I’m gay. That’s what she’s doing.”
He breaks into a coughing fit; he doesn’t have a response for that.
It’s almost comforting to know that even if I was normal, even if that vampire attack never happened, I’d still be in a similar position. Whether gay or a vampire, no matter what I’d end up a disappointment, a bad apple on the family tree.
I leave without waiting for my father to finish coughing.
I’ve got sandwiches to eat.
Fiona
Baz fills the passenger seat of my car, looking like he’s just won a million bucks. The window’s rolled down, and his arms dangles out into the open air. His hair blows in the wind, and his grin could warm the dead.
He’s finished school. He’s got a boyfriend.
He’s lost his family.
Well, not all of them. Katie’s already talked to me about visiting during the summer, and Malcolm’s not a complete lost cause.
But his mother…
My sister.
She’s wrong. I’ve lived in Natasha’s shadow my whole life, always stuck in second place. But this is one way I’ve bettered her.
She thinks I’m weak. She thinks of herself as weak for not doing the “right thing”. For not getting rid of Baz when he was young. Ridding the world of vampires.
But this boy isn’t something to throw out. He’s a bonfire worth of magic and life. And if she can’t be proud of him, I’ll do it for her.
I’ll care for her son because she won’t.
And how awful is that? No one in their right mind would put me in charge of a child.
Although, I suppose he’s not a child anymore, he hasn't been for a while. Ever since those fangs of his came in he wasn’t allowed to be. He’s had to grow up faster than most, living a life of fear.
But not anymore—not if I have any say in it.
He certainly looks young now. His smile hasn’t faded, and he leans over to the backseat to poke at the red wings of Simon Snow.
Simon huffs at him, but a quick glance in the rearview reveals a face full of similar glee. Baz laughs and leans halfway out of his seat to give Simon a kiss.
I can’t help smiling with them.
“So, Basil,” I say, getting his attention. “Big day, huh?”
“You can say that again.” Baz sits back in his seat, stretching his arms above his head.
“How do you feel?” I ask him, over the hum of the car and the rush of the wind. Simon’s wings beat in the back, and a part of me feels that the whole world must be listening to Baz’s response.
No one would judge him for feeling like shit about all this. God knows I wouldn’t be grinning so hard if I’d just severed ties with my family.
But Baz’s expression only seems to grow happier.
“How do I feel?” Baz repeats, rolling the question around.
I watch him look out the window before he answers, watching the country roll past, his hair falling in front of his face. Simon’s hand in his.
“Alive,” he finally says. “I feel alive.”
fin.