Chapter Text
Simon
I sit alone in our room feeling emptier than I have in years. I know I should be celebrating my victory. I did it, I won. But I can’t seem to leave my bed. I’m trying not to look over at his. Why does it hurt to see it? I guess I’m just not used to him being gone.
Dead. Baz is dead. And I killed him.
I stifle a sob. I don’t even know why I’m crying. This is what was meant to happen. This was always what was meant to happen. But something about the tears in his eyes before he closed them the last time stuck with me. I can’t get the picture of his small smile out of my head. I keep hearing him whisper “It’s okay, Simon, please don’t cry.” He died in my arms.
I can’t stand how peaceful he looked. I hate that I was too weak to hold it together while he died. I hate that I know, deep down, that I miss him.
***
The knock at the door is soft, but my head still snaps up. I feel a pang in my chest when I remember that Baz will never walk through it again. My voice shakes when I call for the person to come in, barely louder than a whisper. They must have heard it though, because the door creeps open, and now I’m face to face with the father of the boy I killed. I’ve heard a lot about Malcolm Grimm over the years. It was never anything good. But I feel immense guilt looking into his empty eyes.
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t think of anything to say. Nothing feels good enough. I feel like saying anything would be an insult. So I close it again and look away.
I can hear Malcolm open Baz’s dresser. I guess he’s come to collect his things. I bury my head in my hands to hide my pain. After what seems like eternity, I hear a small sniffle and my whole body goes tense. Is he crying? I turn around and see tears streaming down Malcolm’s face and raw pain in his eyes. He’s holding Baz’s violin case. I can’t stand to watch it, so I rush to the bathroom to cry privately.
***
I didn’t sleep at all last night. I didn’t cry once Malcolm left. I feel completely empty. I go through the motions of the day; I shower, go to breakfast, fake a smile, and even hang out on the lawn. It’s nice out today. The sun is bright. No rain. I can hear birds chirping and a group of fourth years laughing. As if there weren’t an empty seat at breakfast today. As if I hadn’t seen Dev and Niall eat silently, unable to look away from the spot their friend once occupied. As if I didn’t notice the pitying looks all the teachers gave me.
I prefer sitting alone here, in our room. Because here I don’t need to hide my emotions under a too small grin. Even still, seeing his bare side of the room is surreal. And it feels even more surreal when I hear a knock on the door for the second day in a row. This time I stand to open it.
Dev Grimm stands behind it. “May I come in?” he asks in a whisper. Not trusting my voice, I nod instead. He walks in, perfect posture slipping into a slight slump when he sees Baz’s bare mattress. I wince.
“So…” I trail off. What am I supposed to say?
“Baz, um… Well he asked me to give you this, if he… you know.” Dev holds out a small envelope with ‘Simon Snow’ written carefully across the top in elegant green ink. I take it carefully, handling it as I would a precious antique. Dev sighs. “He asked us to be sympathetic to you, as insane as that sounds. Said you were just doing what you had to. Or at least what you thought you had to. So I guess what I’m trying to say is… Even if I don’t forgive you, I understand.” I say nothing. He walks away and closes the door behind him.
I sit on my bed and carefully open the letter.
Dear Simon,
I don’t know exactly how to start this letter. After eight years of torment, how do you apologize? But I suppose that is what I’m doing. Apologizing, that is. The truth is I never wanted to fight you. If I hadn’t been such a coward, maybe we could have even been friends. I wish I had given that opportunity a chance. I know this will be hard to believe. I know I was awful to you. That’s probably my biggest regret.
I wanted to write this letter so I can peacefully die tomorrow. At least now I know that I’ll have come clean, even in such a cowardly way. I don’t think I’ll have the stomach to confess to you while I’m bleeding out. There’s no easy way to say this, but I need to get it off my chest. You deserve to know that I’ve been in love with you for years. It’s selfish of me to tell you this now, when you can never respond to that knowledge. But I’m too scared that if I said it tomorrow, the last thing I see will be your disgust for me. I don’t want that. I don’t think I could handle that.
I wish I could have been stronger. I wish I could have told you before now, in any other way. But you deserved to know regardless of how awful the circumstances are. What I’m trying to say, I suppose, is that I forgive you. This was always how it was meant to happen. You’re so alive, Simon Snow. That’s always what I loved most about you. So please, for my sake, carry on and keep living.
I’ll miss you.
Yours forever,
T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch.
(Baz)