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Someone is knocking on my door, and I don’t know why or who. No one knocks on my door. Dev and Niall don’t even knock. We hardly hang out outside of class or student government. Or when we occasionally eat lunch together. If I’m honest they’re more like show-off friends for the illusion of friends when my father visits than actual friends.
I was just minding my business reading before bed, and the knocking started. I stand up and walk through my dorm to the door and open it to find none other than the Simon Snow standing there with his head hung low and a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
Despite my surprise, I keep my composure and ask, “Snow, what the hell are you doing here?”
He raises his head, a look of confusion forming on his face. “You’re not Agatha,” he slurs out. The scent of alcohol oozing from his breath. On smell alone I would’ve thought he had drunk a whole liquor store.
“No, I’m not. Glad to see you can differentiate while plastered. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.”
He doesn’t budge from the doorway. In fact, he marches right in and collapses on my floor. “I didn’t say you could come in.”
“Agatha…” he moans out. He sounds sad.
“Agatha lives in this building, yes. Why don’t you go find her?”
“Dumped me. Said we weren’t right for each other. We don’t have a future,” He takes another swig of the whiskey. I have half a mind to take it from him, but what should I care? What does it matter if the guy I have a crush on is wallowing and self medicating with alcohol?
I’m not sure what to say. I can’t tell him how thrilled I am that he and Agatha are finally over. I could always tell that her heart wasn’t in it. That she was always going through the motions.
Peering over Simon, I notice him crying a little. The tears are just falling, but he’s making no noise. My heart breaks a little, it hurts me to see him like this. I sit on the floor next to him. He’s lucky I have my own room so I don’t have some roommate yelling at me for having a drunk guy crying on the floor.
Softly, I say, “Why don’t we get you to bed? What dorm do you live in?”
I know he doesn’t live here. He’s only here so much because Agatha does. But now he has no reason to be here.
“Agatha’s room…where’s her room, Baz?” he asks.
I sigh. It’s going to be a long night. “Snow, I don’t think it would be best for you to see Agatha right now. Why don’t we get you to your own room, and you can sleep this off, huh?”
He doesn’t answer. I let myself stare at him (I know he won’t remember this in the morning). His bronze curls are falling in his face, the tips damp with his tears. I resist the urge to wipe them away. I bet any contact with me would sober him up real quick.
The first time I met Simon was freshman year. We both joined student government. Me, because of my father’s expectations that I would follow him in politics. Him, because he probably wanted to go to all the parties. In fairness, Simon is incredibly charming. He knows most everyone on campus. They all love him. Girls fawn over him. Every guy wants to be his friend. Some of us (me) want to lick his face.
Anyway, the first time we actually met I couldn’t stand him. He knew nothing about student government. I overheard him talking about how he was only doing it because his best friend from high school, Penelope, who also goes here (She’s brilliant, don’t get me wrong. But annoying as hell with how smart she is) told him to get involved in something. I piped in that student government was to help make the school better, not something you join because someone else makes you. Ever since we’ve been rivals. He was elected treasurer at the end of freshman year. I got elected president with Penelope so close behind she became vice president.
It wasn’t until late in our sophomore year that I realized my feelings for him. I always knew I was gay, I just had never had a real crush on anyone before Simon. We were at some party that everyone in student government was forced to go to. It was like an end of the year thing. By now, Simon and Agatha had been dating for a little over a year, and it bugged me to no end. I didn’t know why at first. They were all over each other that night, so I started drinking. Dev and Niall thought I was just getting into the party spirit. They even encouraged me. Sometime during the night I stumbled to the bathroom and looked myself in the face and had a thought.
I am in love with Simon Snow.
It hit me so hard. There was no going back. It was like the floodgates had opened, and everything I had been repressing had come to the surface.
I’m having that same feeling now, with Simon right in front of me. So vulnerable and sad. All of my instincts want to comfort him and go give Agatha a piece of my mind, but I know he’ll hate me for it.
I press him again, “Snow, where’s your room?”
This time he answers, “I just, I thought we were soulmates, you know? Me and Agatha. Having blonde babies. Getting married after we graduate. Wait, switch those. You know what I mean. It was so easy. We were easy. I never had to think with her. I took her to the formals. I wore a suit, she wore a dress. We were perfect. And now…” he coughs a little. “Now I don’t know what I am without her.”
How do I tell him that he’s everything?
“Listen, Snow, you’ll find another girl like Agatha. She’s not exactly one of a kind. There are a million blonde sorority girls.”
“But she was my sssoulmate, Bazzz,” he slurs.
“A person can have more than one soulmate.”
Simon huffs and takes another drink. I take the bottle from him, “I think that’s enough. Now, I’m serious, where’s your dorm?”
He tried to put up a fight over the bottle, but, being drunk, he really didn’t stand a chance against me. He still doesn’t answer me. Frustrated, I decide to take a bathroom break. I leave the bottle on my desk. I’m a little scared that he’ll disappear, so I lock the door and take my keys with me. Hopefully he won’t figure out how to unlock it from inside.
Once in the bathroom, I turn the tap on and run my hands through it, then splash some on my face. I have Simon fucking Snow drunk in my room. Who knew this is where life would take me? I know I have to go back soon, but I just don’t know what to do. How did this happen? What have I done to deserve such karma as Simon coming to me in heartbreak? And what am I supposed to do with him when he won’t fucking tell me where he lives?
Except…I have Penelope’s number. I dial her up.
She answers after what feels like an eternity and says, “I hope there is a fire or something for you to be calling, let alone at one in the morning on a Friday night, Basil.”
“Agatha broke up with Simon, and he’s drunk and delirious in my room and won’t tell me which dorm he lives in,” I state plainly.
“Well, shit. I mean, it’s about time. I don’t think Agatha has been in it for a while now, but that’s none of my business. Simon’s drunk?”
“Yes, I just said that.”
“And in your room?”
“Yes, for Christ’s sake.”
She pauses. “I wish I could help you, but I’m home for the weekend. And I can’t very well leave right now. I’ll come pick him up tomorrow morning okay? My mom will be pissed, but whatever.” Then she hangs up. Well, what am I supposed to do now?
I leave the bathroom and find my way back to my room. I walk in to find Simon snoring on my floor.
Great. Now I have a sleeping, drunk giant in my room. I sigh (I’ve been doing that a lot tonight) and get a blanket from my closet. I drape it over him, and then I grab an extra pillow and carefully place it under his head. He’s lucky I have a rug on my floor or he’d be sleeping on cold tile. Not that he would notice in this state.
I decide to take Simon’s lead and climb in bed and fall asleep.
***
I wake up to knocking. I’m getting really tired of people knocking. Is this what it means to be popular because I am not a fan. I sit up from my bed and notice Simon still sleeping like a baby, quietly snoring away.
I get up, rubbing my eyes, and open the door to find none other than Penelope Bunce standing there with a bag of McDonald’s. “Good morning, Basil. Is Simon awake?”
“Very funny, neither are true. What time is it?”
“Eight in the morning,” she says so chipper.
“What the fuck are you doing here at 8am? I thought you were at your parents.” I invite her in and sit back on my bed. It’s too early for standing.
She looks down at Simon sleeping and a concerned look passes on her face. I know they’ve been friends since they were kids. It probably hurts her a lot to see him like this. “I was, but I couldn’t sleep last night after you called me, so I decided to leave to get here as soon as I could. Here,” she tosses me a breakfast sandwich. I unwrap it hesitantly. I’ve never known her to be a particularly kind person to anyone besides Simon.
Penelope squats down and lightly nudges him. Nothing. She pokes him a little harder and whispers his name. This time his eyes flutter open. “Penny?” he says. “Why am I on the floor?”
He looks away from her and notices me on my bed. “Baz? Am I—Am I in your room? How did I get here?”
“You were drunk, genius. You thought my room was Agatha’s and wouldn’t tell me where yours was so I couldn’t take you back.” I’m a little harsher than I think I should be, but it’s a reflex. Being mean to Simon is how I cope.
Confused, he looks down at the pillow under his head and grips onto the blanket I gave him. “Agatha…”
Penelope looks at me like I’ve just murdered her child and says, “Let’s go, Simon. I got you hash browns.”
And with that, they left. I didn’t even notice Simon didn’t take his bottle of whiskey until I went to do homework at my desk later.
***
Simon is following me, I know it. Ever since that night, he’s been following me around like a puppy. Watching me. A week after the Incident, I caught him at my soccer game. Every day since then, he watches me during lunch. I don’t even know if he actually has time for lunch when I do, but nevertheless, he’s always there. Staring at me a few tables over. Sometimes he does it at dinner, too.
Today I heard that Agatha went on a date with some frat guy. Normally I wouldn’t be bothered, but now I’m wondering how Simon is taking it. I haven’t noticed him yet, but I’m sure he’s sulking somewhere.
I make my way to my orchestra rehearsal admiring the changing leaves. Fall has always been my favorite season. It means school starting and lattes. Specifically pumpkin mocha breves. A concoction of my own design. The people at Starbucks hate when I walk in, but I always tip them generously.
Lost in thought, I don’t notice when I knock into a body. Simon Snow in particular.
“Jeez, Snow, watch where your going,” I snap.
He looks up at me, startled. I take pride in being a couple inches taller than him. It makes moments like this very rewarding. I like him having to look up at me. I start to imagine him leaning up to reach my lips, but stop myself before it becomes too vulgar.
He still hasn’t said anything, so I continue on my way. I figure I shouldn’t humiliate him too much, since a few weeks ago he was crying on my floor drunk.
I figure he’s still standing there awestruck, but to my surprise, he catches up with me.
“I want to talk to you,” he states bluntly.
“I haven’t got the time, Snow.”
He grabs me by the arm, halting me in place. “Please, I just…I need to talk to you.”
I look him up and down. He does seem to be desperate for something, god knows what. “Look, I really don’t have the time. I have to be in rehearsal in five minutes. Go talk to Bunce if it’s something that pressing. I’m sure she can help you better than I can.”
He drops his hand allowing me to go about my way.
I can’t say that I’m not curious as to what he wants to talk to me about. Maybe he wants advice on what to do when your girlfriend breaks up with you and immediately starts dating someone else. Of course, I have no experience with that. Maybe he wanted to tell me not to tell anyone what happened that night. That seems to be more logical. God forbid Simon Snow have an embarrassing story that would hurt his street cred.
Part of me wants to hear him out. To know what’s on his mind that he thinks he needs to talk to me. Part of me craves to be in close courters with him. To breathe him in (a scent that is usually pleasant when he’s not intoxicated). For him to be focused solely on me and me focused on him. It’s what I think about at night, before I scold myself for imagining things that will never happen.
I want to know why he’s thinking about me.
Stupid, I shake my head. I can’t let him get to me. I have another game coming up and our fall orchestra concert. Not to mention all my other school work and activities. No, I could not let Simon Snow get inside my head.
Well, more than he already was.
I sit in my chair (First, I might add) and warm up my violin. I always like to start with a simple scale. In a college level ensemble, typically we warm up with more complicated repertoire, but I enjoy the scales. They’re relaxing to me. Mindless. I go through them easily and quickly. The chromatic scale is my favorite. It just flows out of me, allowing my mind to drift away from Simon to nothingness.
Some damn peace and quiet for once.
I barely notice the rest of the ensemble filing in. Somehow I must have forgotten Agatha played the viola because I’m shocked to see her. I guess I’ve been so focused on Simon that I must have missed her completely. I’m tempted to walk over to her and tell her what an idiot she is for dumping Simon, but I know she would question why I care so much.
As with most things in my life, it seems pointless.
***
Another few weeks pass and Simon is still tailing me. I thought maybe he would approach me again after that one day, but he hasn’t. I wonder if he knows that I know what he’s doing. I have a pretty good Simon radar. It’s like my senses are attuned to him. They have been ever since we met, whatever that means. And it’s easy because he’s a complete buffoon. I don’t think he would know what “sneaking” is if it hit him in the face.
I try telling myself to stop worrying, stop wondering. That it doesn’t matter. That he’s probably just embarrassed about what happened and wants to make sure I don’t tell anyone. I try to tell myself it doesn’t mean anything. But the thought remains in the back of my mind.
What if?
Now, I’m on my way to the field trying to forget about it all. It doesn’t do any good to obsess over it. And I’m hoping he’ll give me a break and not show up to this game.
I meet up with Niall in the locker room. Dev doesn’t play. He hurt his ankle freshman year, and it put him out for the rest of his life probably. He still comes to the games, though. He’s a good enough friend for that at least.
“You ready to rip those bastards a new one, Baz?” Niall asks. We’re playing our rivals today. We always win.
“Hah, don’t we always?” I laugh. I kind of hate the pre-game banter, but I participate anyway. Preferably, I’d like to change and get on the field as quick as possible, but being captain means I have to joke around with my teammates to boost morale. I’m in the middle of tying my shoes when I hear a commotion. Voices filter in, angry ones for sure. Then I see Simon Snow himself standing right in front of me.
“I need to talk to you, Basilton.”
No one but my father ever calls me by my full name. Clearly Simon has a death wish.
“And I need you to get out of my locker room, Snow. Which one do you think is more likely to happen?” My team makes noises of agreement. They start to crowd him a little, trying to push him out of the room. I put my hand up signaling that I can handle this.
Simon puffs out his chest attempting to look bigger and tougher. It almost works. Too bad for him none of us are scared of him.
“Look, Snow. I know you’ve been stalking me the past couple months. Now, if you don’t stop I might report it. You wouldn’t want to lose your scholarship would you?”
Shock crosses his face. I don’t think he thought I would know he was on a scholarship. And while I don’t take enjoyment out of threatening him, it is nice to see his ego falter a little.
Despite this he says, “I’ll leave when you agree to talk to me.”
I can tell in his eyes, those deep blue eyes that keep me awake at night and that are unmoving, that he really won’t leave unless I agree.
I take him by the arm and lead him away from everyone else. From my teammates perspective, it will look like I forced him out. I can hear the cheers and laughs as we walk outside. But for me, this is caving.
“Fine, okay? Meet me at my room at the end of the game. Then we’ll talk.”
I don’t even wait to hear his answer or look at his face. I just walk.
***
After probably the best game I’ve ever played, I walk back to my room as slowly as possible. I should credit Simon for how badly we beat our opponents since I was on fire, but I would never admit to him that he got to me so much that I put all my rage and emotion into playing.
You would think that after all these weeks of wondering what Simon wants to talk about, I would be bolting to my room. But now that the time is here, I’m dreading it. My worst imaginations could be coming true. Him threatening me into silence about what happened. Him telling me he wants nothing to do with me more than he already did. Maybe even telling me that he wants to get back together with Agatha. That one wouldn’t surprise me as much as it would gut me.
Needless to say, I wasn’t eager to get to my room after a game as I usually am. But the campus is only so big, and I can only walk so slow until I finally reach my destination. I take my time with the stairs, trying to prolong the inevitable as much as I can.
Eventually I make it to my hall and see Simon’s figure standing in front of my door. What I’m surprised to find is that he’s holding two Starbucks cups. He doesn’t notice me coming so I take the opportunity as I see it. “Trying to bribe me, Snow?”
He nearly jumps out of his skin, but he attempts to regain his composure (It doesn’t work). “Peace offering,” he replies handing me the cup. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just got tea.”
I raise my eyebrow and take a sip. Not a bad choice actually.
Without saying anything, I unlock my door and invite him in. I set my soccer bag down and take my shoes off. I hate being in shoes after a game, so I try to limit the amount of time I actually have to wear shoes on game days. Simon keeps looking around, seeming unsure of what to do next. I roll my eyes and say, “So you wanted to talk? Talk.”
“You gave me a pillow. And a blanket.”
“Yes, I did. Glad you noticed. Is that all you wanted to say?” I should maybe stop being such an ass, but I can’t help it.
“God, can you just be serious for one second?” he snaps. Now I feel bad. “Ugh, can you just let me get out what I want to say?”
I sit on my bed. Hoping he’ll get the hint that I’m giving him the floor to talk. He does.
“You let me sleep in your room while I was a mess, and you even gave me a pillow and blanket. You called Penny to tell her what was wrong. You took care of me. I want to know why.” I wait for him to continue, but I think he’s waiting for me to say something back.
I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure what he expects me to say. Does he want the truth? Because I’m pretty sure what he thinks the truth is, is entirely different to the actual truth.
“Well?” he asks impatiently.
“What do you want me to say? That I did it to hold it over you in case you piss me off and use it as revenge? I bet that’s what you expect of me, isn’t it?” I’m fed up with him wanting an explanation.
“No! Fuck, I just thought that maybe you didn’t hate me. I wanted to know if it was true.”
This absolute idiot. “I never said I hated you. You just assumed.” I whisper.
“Well, you never said otherwise either.”
He sits down next to me. I don’t think we’ve ever been this close unless we were at each other’s throats, it makes my heart race. I try not to act like him sitting like this isn’t giving me a heart attack. Suddenly he looks at me, eyes level with mine. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but closes it and looks away.
“What? Were you going to say something?” I ask him as gently as possible. There’s tension in the room and vulnerability too. Like we could make or break something. And I’m tired of breaking things.
He takes a breath and starts, “I’ve been thinking a lot since that night. I really appreciate what you did, I don’t think I ever said thank you. If you hadn’t let me stay…I don’t want to think about what might have happened.”
“It was nothing—“ I start, but he shushes me.
“Let me finish. Agatha never would have done that for me. She probably would have said, ‘Oh Simon,’ and sent me on my way. Maybe even left me, who knows. Penny would have, but that’s because she’s my friend. But you did it for seemingly no reason at all. We’ve never been friends. I always thought you hated me, and yet in my time of need, you took care of me. You could’ve thrown me out of your room, but you didn’t. After that, I realized I had you all wrong. So, I started watching you. And I learned so many things that I thought about you were wrong.
“And I realized some things about myself. I think I was so antagonistic towards you before was because I was scared. I was scared that I found you attractive. And please don’t feel weird about this, I just have to let it out. I think the reason I attached myself to Agatha so much was because she was safe. She’s blonde and in a sorority. She’s a girl. And when she broke up with me, I didn’t feel safe anymore. I was open, and you found me and kept me safe.
“What I’m saying is, I think I like you, Baz. And I just wanted you to know.”
He sighs with his whole body. I think this is the first time I’ve ever been speechless.
Simon Snow likes me. What a charmed life I’m living.
“Are you serious? Because I need to know if this is a joke or not.” I tell him.
“Yes, I’m serious. Do you think I would joke about this?” He looks nervous. Probably wondering what I think about this. I might make him sweat about it for a bit.
“Hell if I know. But you’re sure? You like me?”
“Have I not made that clear?” I think he’s dying a little inside waiting for my response. I love seeing him like this, entirely dependent on me.
“If you’re sure,” I say and pull him into me, clashing our lips together. Simon’s shocked at first, but then he melts into it, and it kills me. This kiss is everything I have always imagined and also not. I couldn’t properly imagine the way his lips would feel on mine, and this is much better than I ever thought it would be.
His hands find their way to my back, and he clings to me. I could get used to this. I run my fingers through his curls, something I’ve always wanted to do. Then I remember something else I’ve always wanted to do. I pull away from his lips (Much to his dismay) and find my way to his moles. This boy has more moles on his face than anyone I’ve ever met. There’s one on his cheek that I’ve always thought would be perfect to kiss. So I do, and it is. I don’t think he expected me to do this, but he rolls with it.
I start kissing his whole face, and half way through I start laughing.
Simon puts some space between us and asks, “Why are you laughing?” Offended I think.
“Because you like me, Simon. I never thought I’d be lucky enough for you to feel the same way about me.”
He looks down. “You’ve never called me Simon before.”
“Hey, you called me Basilton today. But I think it’s high time for me to use your first name, huh? Considering the circumstances.” I take his hand in mine. I never want to not be touching him, now that I’ve gotten a taste.
“I like the way my name sounds in your mouth,” he admits.
Oh, Simon. You kill me.
“Then get used to it, Simon, because I won’t get tired of saying it,” Then I resume my attack on his lips. I’m not sure how long we spend kissing, but eventually it becomes dark outside and we’re laying on my bed. Simon’s head is on my chest, and I’m tracing the moles on his skin. I close my eyes and fall asleep to the sound of him snoring, a sound I don’t think I will tire of.