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“I love you.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Simon regretted them. Not the meaning behind the words, of course, (he was so in love it was actually a little terrifying), but the timing was the problem.
He’d only been on four official dates with Baz.
Four.
Just four.
This was not the time to be proclaiming love to one another. (No matter how hard and fast Simon had fallen)
Well, I’m an idiot.
It was just such a perfect moment. The colour of Baz’s eyes in the setting sun, the puffs of his breath in the cold air as he laughed when Simon tried to sign something with mittens on…
Simon tried to think of a way out of the situation, to explain that it was more of a casual “I love you” that you’d say to a cup of very needed coffee, or to your best friend when they bring you the coffee. (Even though it definitely wasn’t.)
Baz turned towards Simon, who was working out a way to turn it into a story about the time he said “I love you” to a customer near the end of his shift one day when she brought her plate and mug back to the handoff. (Her boyfriend seemed quite miffed and wasn’t impressed when Simon offered him an “I love you, too, mate”, but that was his problem.)
“Sorry? Did you say something?” he asked.
Simon breathed a giant sigh of relief and tugged Baz towards him, so he could reach up and kiss him.
I forgot the battery in his right hearing aid ran out earlier…
And Simon, being a creature of habit, had already decided he liked holding Baz’s hand with his left. (To be perfectly honest, Baz preferred it because Simon tended to flail more with his right hand, even if they were holding hands.)
I’m in no way religious, but thank god!
That was a close one.
* * *
“I love you.”
Why me? Why meeee??
Simon had barely made it through the first time he’d confessed, and literally one hour later, here he was, in the exact same position as before.
It was just another perfect moment. Baz was in a collared shirt with the top two buttons undone, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, steam making perfect strands of loose hair dance along to the background music of the movie neither of them were paying attention to playing on his laptop.
Simon was sitting on a barstool, resting his chin on both hands. He probably had a dopey smile on his face, and he was just overcome with the urge to tell Baz exactly how he felt (again), and he compulsively said “I love you” (again), and…
He’s making us hot chocolate from scratch, I can just say that I was talking about the smell, or—
“Hmm?” Baz turned towards him, brushing away the hair that was escaping his braid.
“Oh—uh—nothing. I—uh—coughed. That’s all.” Simon stumbled through his lie. He almost told Baz the truth as his lips tightened in their smile, but fear of having his feelings rejected, or met with an ‘Oh, okay’, or ‘that’s nice’, or ‘we’ve only been dating for two weeks’, like he’d experienced before kept him from confessing. No matter how much it ate him up inside.
* * *
It happened a few more times. Once by accident, and the rest when he knew Baz couldn’t hear him. Like when he was napping, or busy with something else, or when he had his hearing aids out…
I mean, I can’t keep these feelings to myself, but I can’t let him know yet…
I’m just practicing proclaiming my love until the time is right…
No one’s getting hurt…
I’m not getting hurt…
It all blows up in his face about a week later when Baz and him are curled up on the third-hand couch, watching a movie on Netflix on Simon’s shitty TV because he and Penny couldn’t afford anything better.
Baz had his arms wrapped around Simon (because being the little spoon was the best), and Simon brought their entwined hands up to his lips and kissed them.
“I love you,” he mumbled sleepily against Baz’s hand before he could stop himself.
“What?” his boyfriend looked down at him.
“Nothing!” Simon, suddenly wide awake, answered far too quickly, diverting his attention to the screen.
Baz grew tense and sighed loudly. He sat up in spite of Simon’s protesting whine—both about being cold, and that they were getting to a good part—and put his hearing aids back in with his mouth set in a grim line at the opposite end of the couch.
“Simon… what did you say?”
“Nothing! I was just—uh—” Think Simon, think! It’s only been, like, three weeks, don’t scare him off “—the movie, I really liked that line.”
Baz clenched his jaw.
“Snow—”
Nooooo, he’s calling me Snow again. I can’t go back to just being Snow.
“—you’ve been doing that all week, and I understand you don’t think it’s a big deal, but it’s really irritating.” Baz seemed to be waiting for some sort of response, which Simon wasn’t giving, and stood up. “I thought you’d be different.”
Come on, Simon, this could be your only chance!
Simon leapt to his feet, steeled himself like he was the captain of the rugby team, and signed the fifth phrase he learned.
‘I love you.’
Baz froze mid-step.
“What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
… Did I sign it wrong?
‘I love you,’ Simon signed again, still confident in his YouTube studies in BSL. Those tutorials were great for simple words and sentences, but he switched to speaking for the explanation because god knows how bad he’d fuck that up. “That’s what I’ve been saying. All week. I love you.”
Baz blushed—it was very cute—and opened and closed his mouth a few times.
Flustered Baz is adorable. Noted.
“Why—uh—why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, almost like he was trying to catch his breath.
“I didn’t want you to freak out!” Simon laughed nervously. “Look, I’m not great with… words… but I just… declared my love for you on, like, our fourth date, and I started panicking, but then you didn’t hear it, so I didn’t say anything. And then… it just kept… happening. I’m really sorry. I know it was wrong, and I shouldn’t have used your deafness against you like that, but I was so scared you were going to break up with me for being… too much.”
Baz started laughing.
Like.
Really laughing.
Life goals: make Baz laugh as much as possible.
“Oh, thank god!” he managed to say. He had tears in his eyes (hopefully from laughing), and his smile… (I’ve fallen in love with him all over again). “I’ve been wanting to tell you that since our first date.”
“But… I dropped your ice cream cone, and—”
“Who gets ice cream in the middle of November?” there was still a lilt of laughter in his voice.
“What? You love ice cream, and it’s the perfect year-round date food,” Simon huffed, crossing his arms. He uncrossed them after a moment. “So… you love me…?”
Baz stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and nodded with soft smile.
“Say it.”
His boyfriend’s smile turned into a smirk. “You know, I think I have to go—”
“Say it!” Simon clung to Baz with a laugh. “Tell me you love me.”
Baz wrapped his arms around Simon and peppered his face with kisses. He leaned down and kissed a mole just below Simon’s ear.
“I love you, Simon Snow,” he murmured.
Simon buried his face in Baz’s neck. His face hurt, he was smiling so much. “Again.”
Baz said something in another language.
“In English!”
“Te amo.”
“I know that was Spanish.”
“That’s also how you say it in Latin, which is technically what English is derived from.”
Simon lifted his head and bumped his nose against Baz’s.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”