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Baz
Snow thinks my morning routine takes too long. But he doesn’t understand how much it takes to look this good. A long shower, good products, attention to detail, it’s all necessary. I have a reputation to maintain after all. Snow doesn’t care at all about his appearance. Unfortunately, he doesn’t need to, he always looks incredible. Beautiful tosser.
I’m currently looking in the mirror, slowly combing back all my hair. It’s still wet so it’s far easier to shape, but I know it will try to puff up later. My hair has a bloody mind of its own. Without product, the top of my head will turn in ball of unruly black fluff. Thank Crowley for my-
I squeeze my gel bottle, and nothing comes out. What the fuck? I squeeze it again and again but still nothing. Merlin and Morgana, fuck it all, I’m out of hair gel. When did that happen? Has Snow been using it? I doubt it. He wouldn’t use something like this. And I don’t think any amount of hair gel could control his wild thatch of bronze curls.
Doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m out of gel, which means...my stupid hair is going to explode later. As if my life wasn’t already a complete nightmare.
Simon
“For Crowley’s sake, Simon, slow down,” Agatha sighs, shaking her head.
I don’t listen and continue taking huge bites of my roast beef sandwich. It just tastes so good. Plus I need the energy. The Mage wants me to practice sword work later, and that takes a lot of effort. So the six slices of roast beef on a sandwich makes perfect sense in my opinion.
“Where’s Penelope?” she asks, sipping from her teacup.
I shrug. “I dunno. Something about working on an assignment through lunch. How could anyone work through lunch though?”
“Not everyone needs as much food as you.”
“Shut up,” I grumble through the bread.
“Wipe your cheek, please,” she sighs.
I wipe the bread crumbs away and grin brightly. “Thanks, Agatha.”
She smiles back, and it makes my stomach tug slightly. Not as much as it used to but it’s still there. I did think I was in love with her after all. We tried dating last year, and it just didn’t work out. Friends are better anyways. Friends aren’t as annoyed when you have food on your face.
My eyes drift around the room out of boredom. But they soon settle on a far table to my right. There’s Baz’s friends (minions? I don’t know) sitting, eating and chatting, but there’s no sign of Baz. The hell?
“Hey, where’s Baz?” I ask, and Agatha’s sighing before I’m done the second word.
“I don’t know, Simon,” she says.
“He’s not here.”
“Okay.”
“And he was taking really long in the bathroom this morning. He missed breakfast.”
“Alright.”
My eyes narrows, ideas tumbling around in my brain. Well, one idea, really. Agatha must know what I’m about to say because she puts her head in her hands. “Simon, don’t-”
“He’s plotting something.”
She groans deeply. “For Morgana’s sake, Simon.”
I lean closer to her. “I’m serious, Agatha! Why isn’t he here? Why did he take even longer in the bathroom than he already does? He must’ve been thinking of something at breakfast and now he’s skipping lunch so he can do it.”
Agatha’s eye roll immediately tells me she’s not taking me seriously instantly. “Sure, sounds perfectly reasonable.”
“Maybe he’s cursing my textbooks,” I mumble, sadly to myself because Agatha has stopped listening. “Or he’s doing something to my bed. Maybe pouring some sticky potion on it. Or maybe he’s going to lock me away in a tower again. Or-”
“Oh, there he is.”
I look over my shoulder, where Agatha is looking. My eyes go wide. What...what the fuck? Baz always looks nothing short of perfect. Perfect posture, perfect uniform, and most of all, annoyingly perfect hair. But not today. Today, his hair isn’t pushed back like a movie vampire, or even falling in front of his face like a lazy wave. It’s kind of...fluffy. All puffed up and pointing in lots of directions. It’s more wavy too, and a bit curly. The ends pull in and twist around. Since when does Baz have tiny curls at the end of his hair?!
I’m so distracted by his weird puffy hair that I don’t immediately notice his deep scowl. He looks ready to burn down the building. But that’s kind of offset by the way his curls bounce with his every step.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
Baz sits with Dev and Niall with a plate of food in front of him. The look he shoots his friends/minions silently says “don’t ask”, and they’re both silent. He drinks his water while still scowling.
“Wow,” Agatha chuckles, “Baz looks a bit messy today.”
“Y-Yeah I guess. Didn’t know his hair could do that...”
I really mean that. In the five years we’ve lived together, I’ve never seen him look like this. Even when we were little he always looked so damn perfect. He was the only eleven year old I’d ever seen use two different kinds of combs. But now there he is now, with fluffy, curly hair.
“Stop staring, Simon,” Agatha says.
I rip from my eyes away from Baz and look back down at my food. “I’m not staring,” I mumble.
“What else would you call it?”
“I’m just, wondering how this is part of his plot.
Agatha sighs again. I look up to see her shaking her head. “It’s not a plot, Simon. He’s obviously just having a bad hair day.”
“But he never has a bad hair day! Why today of all days? Is he trying to distract me so I don’t notice his latest plot?”
“No, I think he’s just out of hair gel or something...”
I shake my head furiously. “No way. He always has way too much hair gel, and those fancy French products, and combs. Baz would never let his hair be mess, he cares way too much about being pretty.”
Agatha’s lip quirks up, that makes me really worried for some reason. She looks like she knows something I don’t. Which she usually does (most people do) but I’m still nervous. “You think Baz is pretty, hm?”
“Well, uh,” I sputter, “well, he is! It’s like, just true. He’s fucking perfect and it’s so annoying.”
She looks back down at her sandwich still smirking. “Mhm, alright.”
I have no idea what she’s implying. And I don’t care. My eyes wander back to Baz, like usual. He’s got some actual food now, eating tiny bites with a hand over his mouth (weird). He leans forward just slightly, and a particularly bouncy curl falls in his face. Baz doesn’t look happy with that. After a few moments, he moves his hand from his mouth and tries to tuck the hair away. It works for a second. But then it falls. Baz tucks it again, but it falls again. I watch him do try to tuck his hair over and over. It’s sort of hypnotising. Eventually he gets so frustrated he starts blowing it furiously. It’s funny, watching him huff and puff at his own unruly hair, but also...adorable? Fuck, do I actually think Basilton fucking Pitch looks adorable?! No way.
“He’s so planning something,” I mumble, once again mostly to myself. “He’s just, trying to throw me off. Like, he has to be doing this on purpose, making his hair all fluffy and shit so I don’t notice what he’s doing. Why else would he make it so, like, distracting? He’s plotting, I know it, Agatha.”
Agatha snorts. Well, that’s rude. I look at her, fully prepared to glare at her, and realise she’s not actually looking at me at all. She’s looking to where Baz is. I follow her gaze, but she’s not looking at Baz, she’s looking at Dev and Niall. They’re both laughing quietly too. Baz seems to be too occupied with his hair to notice.
“Hey, what’s so funny?” I ask.
Agatha turns to me, obviously trying to hold back her laughter. “Nothing, nothing.”
I frown at her. I’m worried it’s too close to a pout. “It’s not nothing if you’re laughing.”
“It’s just,” she sighs, “you’re really adorable, Simon.”
I frown even harder. “How am I adorable? I’m trying to figure out what Baz is plotting!”
She tilts her head slightly to the side, a tiny amused smile on her mouth. “Yes, you are, while you’re blushing so hard your entire face is red.”
I inhale sharply. What the fuck? I instinctively press a hand to my cheek. Fuck, my skin feels really hot. “I-I’m overheated,” I blurt out.
Agatha tilts her head to the other side. “It’s November, Simon.”
“It’s hot in here!”
“Mhm, sure, Si.” She takes a long sip of her tea while maintaining perfect eye contact with me. “Let’s go with that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I huff.
She shrugs, still smiling. “I think only you can figure that out, Simon.”
I huff again. I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Instead of getting more cryptic answers from Agatha, I look back at Baz. He’s stopped blowing his hair and is now running his hand over it, trying to flatten it down. I’m transfixed by the way his long fingers move through the strands. The weird grey of his skin kind of works with his super night black hair. They contrast well. And the movement itself is so graceful. (He’s always graceful.) Even unruly, his hair still looks soft. I wonder if it actually is. I wonder what it would feel like if I ran my fingers thro-
Oh.
Oh shit.
Penelope
I like to get some of my readings for next week done before a class. Watford students aren’t too loud so I can do it. I’m calmly reading at my desk when I notice the clock. Huh, there’s about three minutes until class starts, and Simon’s not here. That’s odd. He’s usually late but only by five minutes. Weird. What in Merlin’s name is keeping him? I hope he’s alright. There haven’t been rumblings from the Humdrum or the Old Families for awhile. He should be fine. But where is he?
Two minutes later, my question is answered. Simon stumbles in, completely out of breath and face red. He must’ve ran. But that doesn’t explain why his clothes and hair are such a mess. Well, more of a mess than usual. It looks like he’s been through a hurricane. But he’s still smiling.
“Hey, Pen,” he says breathlessly.
“Hey, Si,” I reply. “Sorry I missed lunch yesterday. Where were you at supper?
"Uh, got caught up in schoolwork..."
I give him a doubtful look over my glasses. "Seriously?"
He nods furiously. "Yeah, yeah, seriously..."
I put a hand on his arm. "Are you alright, Si?"
“I’m good!" He chirps with an even bigger smile. "I’m really good, actually. Super duper good.”
I blink at him. His wide grin doesn’t falter, and he doesn’t elaborate at all. He’s just staring off into space. “Okay...”
I go back to my book, but I only get one paragraph in before the Minotaur comes in and the class starts. But he only gets a few sentences into the lesson before he’s interrupted by the door opening. He turns from the board.
“Mr. Pitch,” he says flatly, “so glad you could join us.”
“Apologies, sir,” a familiar posh voice says as he goes past. Baz walks past me to take his usual seat near the front. My eyes grow wide. Baz looks even worse than Simon. His shirt is rumpled and his tie is slightly loosened. He’s extremely flush for someone so pale. Worst of all is his hair, pointing in every direction and even curling at the ends. It’s like he’s been through two hurricanes.
If that wasn’t weird enough, during the lesson, he’s not being the perfect student like usual. He seems unfocused, staring off into the distance, tugging at his collar, stuff like that. When I look at Simon, he’s unfocused too, which isn’t unusual for him. But he’s got this weird dreamy smile on his face. A few times, I swear his eyes drift to Baz, still smiling. Is...is Simon looking dreamily at Baz?
What the fuck is going on?