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Baz
“It’s okay, Baz,” Simon says for the third time.
Things are clearly not okay, though. I’m not sure what part of this situation makes him think that things are okay. I shake my head and ignore him.
“It isn’t that big of a deal,” he continues. “It isn’t like this is the most trouble that we’ve gotten ourselves into.”
The punishment has never been anything like this before, though. Usually, we manage to get off with what amounts to a slap on the wrist. Even when I got us into trouble with the Chimera (I really wasn’t trying to kill him), I didn’t get in all that much trouble.
The biggest punishment that I’ve ever had is being forced to sleep in the same room as the boy who I am in love with.
“I know that it isn’t a big deal,” I tell him. “I’m fine.”
“Whatever.” He says it like he doesn’t believe me, and it’s frustrating to see how calm he is about being in trouble. It’s like nothing can touch the Chosen One, but he’s wrong about that.
“You know, we wouldn’t even be in this situation if you hadn’t gone off and nearly destroyed that classroom.” Arguing is the exact opposite of what we’re supposed to be doing right now, but he’s just so irritating. I can’t help myself but try to rile him up again.
“That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t have provoked me.”
“I was just trying to give you some pointers on your elocution of the spell we were practising.”
“No, you were just being your usual snobbish self, trying to remind me that I suck at magic.”
“You don’t usually go off when I do that.”
“I’ve just been having a rough go of it recently.” He tears a hand through his hair, looking exhausted, more mentally than physically, like something is weighing on him.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, changing my voice to a softer tone.
“Don’t pretend like you care.” He turns away from me, and I want to argue about it but decide not to.
I lie back against the wall that my bed rests against and let my eyes fall shut for a moment, wishing that I could get out of this room. This has to be considered cruel and unusual punishment.
They took our wands away and locked us up in here, banning us from using magic until we were let out again. They told us that we couldn’t come out until we found a way to be civil around each other and not harm others during our “silly antics.”
They said they’d be back in a few hours to check on us, and I’m lucky that I fed this morning because if I hadn’t, we might be in some trouble.
I can go a while without feeding, but I don’t particularly want to do that. It feels awful whenever I start to get hungry, and I’m sure that Simon wouldn’t let me feed on him. (Not that I’d actually want to. I’ve never fed on a human, and I never plan to.)
If we couldn’t figure out how to get along in seven years of being forced to room together, I’m not sure how we’re expected to manage it in a couple of hours.
Anyway, no one got hurt. Well, no one but me maybe. My hair still won’t fall right after Simon nearly burnt it off.
I’m all for fire, but what he started was wild and uncontrollable. I prefer something that I can tame, like the small flames that I can produce in my hand, even without my wand.
Except for now. I can’t seem to do that with whatever they’ve done to our room to keep us locked in. (Whenever we get out, I’m definitely phoning the Families to tell them everything that I was subjected to under the Mage’s rule.) It’s not like I want to burn Mummers House down anyway. It just seems like fire is something that could come in handy.
I care about this school and the buildings, so burning them down is not on my list of things to do. This was a special place for my mother, and I want to see it grow and get better, which cannot happen under the Mage’s rule.
I’m not saying that the Families deserve to be in charge. I just think that anyone would be better than who’s in charge now. He’s destroying everything that my mother built up, and it’s killing me to watch it happen.
I open my eyes to find that only a couple of minutes have passed since I closed them. It hasn’t even been a half hour since we were locked up. This punishment is awful, and only one of the many terrible ideas that the Mage has come up with.
We aren’t even able to open the windows. I suppose they’re afraid that we’ll jump out in an attempt to escape each other. (Or maybe “accidentally” push the other out of them.)
Like I’d go anywhere near those bloody merwolves. Not even to get away from Snow would I put up with their stench. I don’t care how “cute” some people (Simon) think they are.
I really hope that he was just taking the piss when he told me about that. Otherwise, I might just have to rethink my attraction for him.
Being stuck here with him is torture because there’s no escape from his irritating attraction or the shiver of electricity that I feel when he gets too close. If the Mage wanted me dead, he might have come up with the perfect way to do that. (He could even use Simon as his scapegoat, too. I wouldn’t put it past him.) Simon and I will never manage to get a long, and I don’t think both of us are going to make it out of here alive.
Simon
It’s too quiet in our room now as Baz and I sit on our separate beds, pointedly not looking at each other. A storm has started up outside, but the sound is muffled by the windows. I want to open them and let some cool air in, but the Mage has done something to seal them shut while we’re in here.
I shouldn’t be surprised that he would come up with something so terrible to try to force me to get along with Baz. I mean, he wouldn’t even let me get a new roommate after Baz tried (more than once) to kill me, so why would he give a little on this?
Baz keeps running his fingers through his hair, checking the ends of it and muttering about how I’ve ruined it. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it, though.
“Would you stop messing with your hair? It looks fine. The flames were nowhere near you.”
It’s true. The flames surrounded me, but they didn’t so much as lean towards Baz. Technically, they didn’t go near anyone, but it was almost like they were actively avoiding him, which was weird since he was the cause of them.
“I’m still not convinced you didn’t singe the ends,” he responds.
I growl at him. His hair looks as good as always. Why can’t he just accept it and move on?
“You know what?” He says, rather abruptly. “I’m going to go take a long, hot shower. It will kill time and allow me to get some reprieve from you.”
I roll my eyes and pretend like I didn’t hear him.
He has just begun to slide off of his bed when there’s a crack of thunder so loud that it seems to shake the room. It’s followed by a large flash of lighting. Right before the power goes out.
There’s no flickering of the lights or any other kind of warning. The lights are just out, plunging us into complete darkness.
Baz and I are both quiet for a moment, waiting for them to come back on. A long minute of silence stretches between us, the only sounds the storm raging outside, and when the lights still don’t turn on again, I decide to speak up.
“Baz.” He doesn’t respond. “Baz, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he snaps, but his voice sounds weird, like he’s breathing heavily. He’s definitely not fine.
“I’m sure the lights will come on again in a moment.”
“I know,” he snaps, but he sounds more afraid than angry.
A thought comes to me about why that is, but I’m sure that I’m wrong. I would have known if Baz was afraid of the dark. We’ve slept in the same room for nearly eight years, and there’s never been anything to show that that’s true. But I could be wrong.
Baz
“Of course, I’m not afraid of the dark,” I say defensively when Simon asks. “I just.. I don’t particularly like it.” It’s not even just the dark. It’s this pitch black, not even being able to see your hand in front of your face, kind of dark. And is it just me, or does our room feel smaller all of a sudden?
“You sleep in the dark, and the catacombs are at least as dark as our room. You’ve always seemed fine before.”
It’s a reasonable argument, but it doesn’t change anything about how I feel.
“I always have my wand in those situations,” I say. I can even see in the dark, but it doesn’t help anything when the walls start to feel like they’re closing in on me.
“Wait, you’re really afraid of the dark?” He asks, like he didn’t really believe it before, and I realize a moment too late that I probably could have denied it.
I wait for the mocking to come, but it doesn’t. He even sounds almost concerned.
“I’m not afraid of the dark,” I repeat. “At least..I wasn’t until recently.”
“Did something happen?” He asks softly, and for a moment, I believe that he truly cares.
“Don’t pretend like you care.”
Simon
Baz throws my words back at me, and I feel how much they sting. Is this how it felt when I said it to him? Maybe he really was just trying to be nice before, which is weird. We definitely need to get out of here, but first, we have to figure out how to get the power back on.
We’re at a school full of Mages. Shouldn’t we be able to keep the power going during a storm? Apparently not. And Baz and I have been banned from using magic, our wands taken away, so it’s not like we can even attempt to get them back on ourselves.
I wonder if it’s just our room that the power has gone out in.
I move over to the window nearest my bed and pull open the curtains, hoping to bring in some kind of light, but it’s dark outside, the rain clouds blocking out the moonlight, so it doesn’t help anything.
It looks like we’re stuck in the dark until someone comes to check on us. Perhaps we should take this time to try to work through some things. We should probably start with getting Baz’s breathing under control, which has gotten worse during our silence, and to do that, I need to know the source of whatever is causing it so that maybe I can help him get through it.
“Are we going to talk about what’s wrong?” I ask, getting straight to the point, turning away from the window but not returning to my bed.
“No.”
“It might help you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Baz…”
“I was kidnapped by bloody numpties! Okay?”
“Fuck,” I breathe. “No, that’s not okay. Are you alright? I mean, besides this whole fear of the dark and the possible claustrophobia thing.”
“I’m fine,” he sneers. It’s almost sounds believable this time, but I can see right through it.
“You keep saying that, and each time, it becomes less and less believable.”
“Why do you want to know? So that you can make fun of me for it?”
“No. I..I care,” I admit, so quiet I’m not sure at first that he heard me.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just do, alright?”
“No, it’s not alright actually. I don’t need you to worry about me.”
I roll my eyes, feeling a bit like Penny when I do it.
“We’re trapped in here, and now there isn’t even any light to see by. This is all your fault.”
Of course, it is. Nothing is ever Baz’s fault. He’s too perfect to do anything wrong.
“Fine. Blame me. I don’t care. But you have to find a way to calm down.”
“I am calm,” he says, but I can practically hear him gritting his teeth.
“You realize that you’re a terrible liar, right?”
“Just leave me alone.”
“No.” I’m not just going to stand by and do nothing while he falls apart, the horrors of whatever happened when he was kidnapped haunting him.
“Seriously, Simon, just—.” But he doesn’t finish whatever he was going to say as I move to sit next to him at the end of his bed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Helping you.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Well, you’re getting it.”
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Because you’re clearly not okay, and whatever the reason, I want to try to help.”
“You can’t help. You don’t even know what’s wrong.”
“I know what it’s like to have a panic attack. That feeling like you can’t breathe, like there’s not enough air, like you’re about to fall apart and your body has given up on you. I know how much they suck, and even though I may not like you that much, I’m not just going to sit here and watch you suffer.”
“It’s a good thing you can’t see me then.”
“Would you stop being so stubborn?” I ask, wishing for a brief moment that I could walk away. I won’t leave him like this, though.
“Would you go away?”
“After you let me help you.”
He sighs and is quiet for a long moment that stretches on in the dark. Finally, he sighs once more and says, “Fine.”
“Let’s start by taking a deep breath.”
“Simon, I don’t need—.”
“Just shut up and breathe.” Surprisingly, he does just that. “Good, now hold it for a moment. Now, let it out slowly. Okay, again.”
“This isn’t helping.”
“Give it a few more tries.”
“Why?”
“What have you got to lose?”
It’s difficult - nearly impossible actually - to see him in the dark, but I just know that he’s giving me a dirty look. He doesn’t respond, so I start again.
“Okay, breathe in through your nose for four seconds. Hold for four seconds. Now, breathe out through your mouth for four seconds. Great. In-two-three-four. Hold-two-three-four. Out-two-three-four.”
I continue counting while he focuses on his breathing, listening as he slowly calms down.
Baz
I close my eyes and keep breathing. In the coffin, I stayed sane by holding on to the image of blue eyes and bronze curls. Now, I’ve got the real thing next to me, caring for me and trying to help me breathe.
I had no idea that Simon had this in him.
“How’d you know about that breathing technique?” I ask once I feel I’ve calmed enough to speak again.
I hear a small rustle of clothing, like maybe he’s shrugged. Even though I can’t actually see him, I can imagine it perfectly. Half of his sentences are shrugs, like he’s given up on trying to form them after having struggled for so long with his speech. I feel for him, knowing that it must be hard when elocution is such an important part of doing magic. I start to feel really bad for the things that I said in class today.
“They thought it would help with my magic,” Simon says quietly. “Maybe if I could just calm down, my magic wouldn’t be so volatile.”
“Does it help?”
“You saw what happened today, right?”
“But like you said, you usually don’t go off like that.”
He’s silent for a long moment, and I’ve begun to think that maybe he won’t respond at all, when he says, “I was upset. The Mage wants me to leave Watford. He thinks that it’s unsafe for me to be here, both for me and for the other students. Maybe he’s right. Just look at what happened today.”
He sounds like he’s already given up, and I hate that anyone could make him feel that way. It’s even more upsetting to know that it was the Mage who caused this. I reach out tentatively and rest my hand on his leg, in what I hope is a comforting gesture and not the crossing of a line.
I hold onto him like an anchor, hoping that we can keep each other grounded. I still feel a little panicky, but he really did help me. He doesn’t push my hand away, and I don’t move it either.
“He can’t make you leave,” I say.
“I told him that at the beginning of the year, but I’ve only proved him right. First, there was that dragon, and now, there’s this.”
“The dragon wasn’t your fault, even if the Humdrum did send it to get to you. You can’t go. You have to refuse.”
“Why? I nearly killed you and all of those other kids. Wouldn’t it be better if I wasn’t here anymore?”
It sounds like he truly believes that, and I know what it’s like to feel that way. I have to make him see that it isn’t true. He’s meant to be here.
“No. You can’t think like that.”
“Because I’m the Chosen One? I thought you didn’t believe that.”
“That’s not what I meant. Education is important. Plus, I’m hoping that you’ll prove me wrong.”
“Really?”
“Someone has to defeat the Humdrum, and if that person is you, fine. But you can’t do that if you leave.”
“The Mage seems to think otherwise.”
“Who cares what the Mage thinks? What do you think, Simon?”
“I think that I don’t want to leave this school or my friends or—. Or you,” he adds quietly.
“Me?”
“I know that we don’t usually get along—.”
“Try never.”
“But you’ve been a presence in my life for over seven years. Don’t you think it’ll be weird when we’re not around each other anymore?”
“It won’t be pleasant, “I admit, “but we don’t really have a choice, do we? You’ll be with Wellbelove, and I’ll be doing whatever my father wants me to.”
“Agatha and I broke up.”
“Right.” I did know that, but it felt like one more stupid attempt to ruffle his feathers.
“And why do you have to do what your father wants? What do you want, Baz?”
That’s an excellent question. I want so many things, and I’m certain that my father wouldn’t approve of very many of them.
I want to follow in my mother’s footsteps and become a teacher. I want to share her love of education with the world. I want to date my roommate, who I’m hopelessly in love with. I want to get away from that house that doesn’t feel like a home. I want to find a place that I can call home, and unfortunately, at the moment, that is not near my family.
I love my stepmom, and I adore my siblings, but that isn’t enough to make a home.
I need to find a place where I’m loved unconditionally. A place where I don’t have to hide the most important parts of myself. A place where I don’t feel trapped.
When I was younger, I used to dream of a life where that home was with Simon. I’d wake up every morning beside him, and nothing else would matter. I wouldn’t care whether my family accepted me or not because I’d be happy and in love.
Obviously, that will never happen, and I was a fool to ever wish it would.
Simon
Baz has gotten really quiet and pensive beside me. I wonder whether I should move back to my own bed, but if my presence is even the slightest bit comforting to him, I want to stay.
His breathing has slowed to a more normal pace, but he still feels a bit shaky.
The silence between us grows on, starting to become uncomfortable, so what do I do? I open my mouth and make things worse.
“We should try to figure out a way to get out of here.”
“There’s only one way to do that.”
“So, we do it.” I shrug. “We find a way to get along.”
“If it were that simple, don’t you think that we would have done it a long time ago?”
“Were we ever really trying?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re always fighting, but not once have we ever taken a moment to stop and think about why that is.”
“Because I don’t like you.”
I can’t be sure whether he actually means that. It’s strange because a few hours ago, I would have gone around the school telling anyone who would listen that he hates me and is planning something nefarious. Now, I’m not so sure, and I decide to be honest with him about how I feel.
“Well, I like you.”
Baz
My heart nearly jumps out of my chest when he says that.
I know that he doesn’t mean it the way that I want him to, but it still feels nice to hear him say those words.
“No, you don’t,” I tell him, bumping his shoulder with mine accidentally. I notice that neither of us move away, almost leaning into each other instead.
“What makes you say that?” He asks.
“You’ve started just as many fights between us as I have. If you liked me, you probably wouldn’t have done that.”
“We just know how to push each other’s buttons. It doesn’t mean we hate each other.”
I want to tell him that I do hate him, but it would be a lie.
“If we put in the effort, we couldn find a way to be friends - well, maybe not friends, but something close to that.”
“Why change things now? Don’t you think that it’s a little late for that?”
“No, I don’t think it is. I think that we’ve always had the potential to get along. I’ve never hated you Baz. No matter how much I wanted to, there was always something standing in the way, and we could use that to our advantage and find a way to make this work.”
“You only want to do this so that we can get out of here,” I accuse half-heartedly, secretly hoping that he’s being honest.
“That’s not the only reason.”
“What other reason is there?”
“Maybe I’m tired of fighting.” His voice is soft as he says this, like it physically exhausts him just thinking about it.
“We can’t just stop fighting.”
“Why not?”
“I—.” I don’t know actually. Can we really just choose to stop? Is it really that simple? “I don’t think it would work,” I tell him, and I’m glad that it’s too dark for him to see my face.
I finally remove my hand from his leg, and when, he leans away from me, I suddenly feel all alone in this dark space again. No longer able to see or feel Simon, it feels like I’m trapped all alone, like I’m back in that coffin, screaming for help and trying to claw my way out.
I clench my hands into fists and squeeze my eyes tightly shut. I try to do the breathing exercises that we just went through, but it isn’t working. I feel like I’m running out of air, and my chest aches as I try to force air into my lungs.
Through the haziness, I feel Simon’s hand come up to rest on my back as he begins rubbing soothing circles there as he reminds me to breathe, counting to four over and over again.
It takes a bit, but I start to calm down again, slowly opening my eyes, able to see Simon just a bit with my night vision.
He speaks to me in a soft, steady tone. “You’ll be alright, Baz. You’re not alone in this. I’m here.” He keeps repeating that, like it’s a mantra, and for some reason, it helps.
“Thanks,” I whisper when I feel okay enough to speak again.
“No problem.”
“Why do you keep helping me when all I do is try to push you away?” I really want to know. Before tonight, he got angry at me for everything, and now, he keeps helping me. I don’t understand it.
“I told you, I care about you. I know we don’t get along,” he pauses briefly before adding, “obviously.” Then, he takes a breath before saying, “Even if you hate me, I care about you. I care about your happiness, and I no longer want to do anything to hurt you. I never really did.”
“I don’t want that either,” I admit. “I don’t want to keep hurting each other. I-I want more than this.”
“So do I.”
It’s at that moment that lights decide to come back on, before I can figure out a response and ask what exactly he means when he agrees to “more.” He’s much closer to me than expected. His mouth is just inches from mine as he turns to me, and all I can think about is leaning forward and kissing him.
It would likely wreck this tentative animosity that we’ve currently got going between us, but that will show everyone, including Simon, that this just cannot work between the two of us.
He’s looking at me with a strange expression, and I’m ready to just risk it. Who cares if it makes things worse between us? How much worse can it get?
Plus, even if it does turn worse, we’ve got less than a year stuck together. (And that’s if we don’t get kicked out for not getting along, and as long as the Mage doesn’t make Simon leave Watford.)
What have I got to lose at this point? I’ve got to make some kind of move; screw the consequences. I’m ready to do this.
Then, he kisses me.
Simon
Baz lips move softly against mine, and I can’t believe that I’m doing this. I also can’t believe that it’s taken me this long to realize that I want to do this.
I sigh against his lips and raise my hand to thread my fingers through his hair, the soft strands falling smoothly through them.
I can’t believe that we could have been doing this instead of fighting all this time.
Baz
As we kiss, moving farther up to rest more comfortably on my bed, I start to think about how it’s a wonder that it was a power outage that brought the two of us together. It makes me wonder whether this whole thing was staged. Not by Simon, but by the Mage and our other teachers.
The storm was real, but I’m pretty sure that the electricity going out was a part of their ploy to force us to find a way to get along.
I have to admit that it worked, but I don’t think that this is what they intended when they locked us up together.
But who knows? Maybe they knew something that we didn’t.
As Simon hovers over me on all fours, a wide grin on his face, I push myself up to meet him, thinking that it doesn’t matter what the Mage’s plan was. And that maybe I won’t tell the Families everything that went on in our room tonight.