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Simon never really felt at home in London. Maybe it was because he lived in an orphanage there, briefly, before he even knew that the World of Mages existed. Before... the Mage. Before Ebb.
But when Penny asked him if he wanted to get a little flat with her, up on the fourth floor of some London highrise, he knew he couldn’t say no. Not just because she would turn herself into a poltergeist of sorts, following his every move like a dog on a short leash (not that she didn’t do that already, though. Simon found it endearing. And honestly, right now, it was necessary.) But also because he needed it. He needed her, safe, as someone to cling on to. Someone who’s always been there for him, come hell or high water, and wouldn’t leave his side for anything.
And it’s not trust, really, that boiled down the “choice” between Penny and Baz. That was never it. He trusted Baz and Penny both to the stars, and further if it was out there. No, he chose living with Penny because of nostalgia, a tie to the world he’d just left behind. An anchor.
When Baz asked, he told him that they’d been roommates for so long, it would make sense to try new ones out for size. Baz had laughed and called him a dolt. It was all rather romantic.
The point was, Simon didn’t feel any sort of home in London. He found home in his friends, sure, but not in the city. Not really.
There were Normals everywhere. That was one thing he wasn’t used to. He was used to the Homes having Normals in them, sure, but even then he couldn’t just up and leave, go to shops and such. The world was just so... Normal, all of it. He didn’t know whether to savor that or resent it. But either way, whether he liked it or not, it was always going to be that way. And so was he.
The freedom that came with living away from Watford was also something to consider. Simon was never allowed to just, well. Exist, really. Never allowed to pick out what to eat, what to wear, how to exist.
Finding a wardrobe after everything was exhausting, especially with Penny and Baz giving him two very different opinions. For like, a solid week he wore a green suit jacket with different dresses Penny found at a thrift shop. Dresses mostly because of the wings, they made the whole ordeal easier. That was, until Baz finally told him that no, green does not go with everything, and that a tailor would be his new best friend for the wings issue. Of course, all the money Simon had was in leprechaun gold, and that’s not exactly a form of English currency, so Baz had to do most of the sewing himself. He was complaining the entire time. Simon kind of thought it was cute.
So that gave him a style. He mostly stuck to purples and greens, blazers and scarves. He was trying to find himself, in more ways than one.
His therapist had told him not to think about his sexuality.
He still called her, twice a week, and days when his episodes would get too strong to cope with. His friends were always there to help him, though, and he needed that. He needed them.
Except Agatha. He didn’t know where she’d gone. Penny wouldn’t tell him, even if he asked. He didn’t think he could.
His therapist had told him not to think about his sexuality.
But if there was one thing Simon Snow was good at, it was disobeying orders.
It was June, and the Normals were throwing some sort of festival. It was awfully loud out, Simon had noted, between plans one Saturday afternoon. Baz was out for coffee with some bloke friends of his from school, and Penny was sitting through an engineering summer elective she’d raved about. If there was one thing Penny loved, it was understanding how things worked. Simon thought it made sense, really, that that extended to smartphones. Simon was the only one home, in a sense, and while that wasn’t always safe, his episodes had been simmering down this last week. Maybe they’d go away, one day, but not anytime soon.
Simon was a curious kid, and that didn’t really go away into adulthood. He stood up warily, peeking out the windows.
Rainbows. Everywhere.
Kids and adults alike, dressed in colorful capes and with giant signs, paraded through the streets. People were laughing and grinning, stopping at booths intermittently scattered across the sidewalks. It was a lovely, colorful sight. Simon couldn’t draw his eyes away.
There was one sign he spotted, “I’m here, I’m queer, I’m filled with existential fear!” That one made him pause. Queer... that’s the word Baz used for himself, the word to say he liked boys. Was this— was this some sort of Normal tradition? Other gay people, marching through the streets?
Penny would’ve told him to google it. Baz would’ve told him to leave it alone. But Simon, like a moth drawn to a flame, could only slide his green Sanuks on and shuffle out the door, down the four flights of steps required to spill out onto the street. Usually he’d be out of breath by now, but the sight ahead of him was more breathtaking than anything else he’d ever seen.
Simon Snow didn’t think he was gay, not really. He loved Baz. He’d loved Agatha, too, in a similar way. A burning love, right from his core, building up like magic onto his skin. But those were his choices, right? Gay or not gay. Baz or Agatha. Baz or Penny. Magic or Normal. There was only ever two choices, really, and Simon seriously doubted that this was any different.
He slowly walked over to the nearest booth, tended by an older woman with short hair and teal rimmed glasses. A wall covered with different flags was behind her, and she appeared to be selling them. A gentleman left with a giant yellow, white, and purple flag that Simon thought was bigger than him, a grin on his face. Simon watched him leave, and the confusion must’ve been apparent.
“Hey, you look lost,” the woman at the counter said. She was wearing a nametag, proudly displaying “Bo, she/her” on her shirt. Simon shifted uncomfortably.
“Maybe?” He muttered, looking over all of the flags. He didn’t know what any of them meant, really.
“Christ, you look like Eddie Redmayne,” she muttered, looking him up and down. “Any flag you have in mind? I take pride in having ‘em all. At least, the ones I know about. It’s hard to find the lesbian flag even at pride, so, you know. I try and accommodate.”
“I’m... just very... confused. That’s all. I don’t— I don’t know what these mean, really,” he said, looking them over. He knew what rainbows were, in the sky. Obviously. But this one had black and brown, and looked rather like it was horizontal, as opposed to the arch shape rainbows usually took. The woman, Bo, offered him a smile.
“Well, you aren’t with them, are you?” She asked, gesturing to a group of men, all white, with crosses and picket signs saying various slurs.
“Um, no, I don’t suppose so. I used to have a cross necklace, but I never really felt tied to religion like that. It was more to ward off v— uh, vile. vile spirits. Y’know. Bad vibes,” he stuttered. Merlin, he wished he could be as eloquent as Baz. This wouldn’t be so awkward.
“Hey, no worries, I just meant to see if you’d yell at me for explaining. You can never be too careful.” She picked up the rainbow flag Simon had been staring at earlier with a smile. “You at least know this one, yeah?” Simon gave her a blank look. “Okay, so no. It’s the gay pride flag, used to represent everyone in the LGBT Community.”
“Ell gee b— I’m sorry, uh, I hate to make you feel like you’re talking to an infant, but I really am a sodding moron. What does that mean?” Simon asked. He’d started fidgeting with his foot. He felt as dumb as a brick, and that really made him want to kick something.
“Nah, kid, no worries. Everyone’s been there. First Pride, huh? I was in my thirties, I think. Second marriage. It’s never too late to learn.” Simon smiled at that.
“Anyway. LGBT stands for lesbian— like me, a girl who only has romantic attraction to other girls— gay, a man who only has attraction to other men-“
“That’s how my boyfriend is,” Simon interrupted briefly. “But uh, he usually just says he’s queer.”
“Oh. Well! That’s perfectly fine. There’s millions of labels, everyone has different preferences. Whatever makes someone comfortable is what counts.” She smiled at Simon. He gave a small smile back. She seemed full of grins, and Simon... he was just on guard, that’s all. Always on guard.
He felt kind of like he’d been hit by a wave, deep in the ocean. He was treading water, stuck in new territory, and he kept being knocked down just when he thought he was sturdy enough at last. Everything was so new and confusing.
So he wasn’t gay, then. He wasn’t a man who was only attracted to men. He had loved Agatha, he knew he had. But he loved Baz, recklessly and wholly. So what did that make him? A stranger, stranded in between both categories?
Stuck between gay and straight. Stuck between mage and Normal.
“Sorry if I’m intruding, but you mentioned you’d had a boyfriend,” Bo said. Simon looked up, not really expecting her to keep the conversation going. She had flags to sell, after all. He was in her way. But she kept talking. “What’s his name, then?”
“Baz,” Simon said, a genuine smile inching up his face for the first time in the interaction. “His name is Baz. He’s posh, really, a rich kid from Hampshire. We were roommates, and I— And I’m just an orphan, really, I. I don’t know what he sees in me.” A bitter laugh rose in his throat. “He’d probably be better off with someone actually gay.”
“But you love him, don’t you?” The shopkeeper said. “This Baz. I can see it in your eyes, kiddo.” Simon looked up slowly. The woman’s stated back at him through her teal rimmed glasses. “Here— listen. This one’s on the house.” She turned around then, lookin over the flags on her wall. She pulled down a pink, blue, and purple one from the top row, pulling it out of the plastic.
“For you.” She handed the flag across the table to Simon. He blinked slowly. “Ya see, the B in LGBT stands for bisexual. People that are attracted to both men and women, sometimes one more than the other. There’s no shame in that, none at all. Everyone is born special, and I’m sure your Baz sees something special in you.”
Simon felt like he was going to break down into tears that exact second.
He’d never heard that word. He didn’t know any Normal traditions, really. Everything was new and terrifying and loud and bustling, but even here, there was a place he could belong. There was a place he could be accepted.
There was a word for what he was— Bisexual.
Simon had never been very good with words, and that moment wasn’t any exception. He pulled the shopkeep into a backbreaking hug, holding the flag close to his chest the entire time.
“I’m— I’m sorry, I need to leave, I— I need to call Baz, straight away. Thank you so much. For the flag, for everything. It means the world,” Simon stuttered out, rushing past the booth. Bo smiled as he passed, thinking back on her own life. Defining who you are, and the continuous struggle of that.
Baz looked up from his weekly chat with Niall down at the local Starbucks. Huh. His phone was ringing. He never really used his mobile, still a bit on the old fashion side, but he’d always kept it for emergencies. And while this was an emergency, in a way, it wasn’t one to be frightened about.
“Baz, I need you to come home right now,” Simon breathed into the receiver. He sounded out of breath, nearly panting, and there was a loud ambiance of people behind him. Baz nearly dropped his coffee.
“Ball and chain callin’?” Niall asked, a smirk on his face.
“Shove off,” Baz muttered, tossing a bank note on the table. “Sorry for leaving early, I think he’s having an episode again.”
“Yeah, no worries,” Niall said. “Can’t keep Prince Charming waiting.”
Baz wouldn’t normally leave without some form of witty retort, but right now, Snow could be in trouble. And frankly, that wasn’t something Baz could risk.
He was pushing through crowds when he started seeing the theme. He knew what this was. This was Normal Pride, easily. He’d heard about it, online, and honestly poured hours over it his Fifth Year, back when the realization first hit him. He’d always wanted to go to one.
Not like this.
He rounded the corner to their apartment, ready to bolt up the stairs, when a head of bronze curls caught his eye. There, standing with a bi flag draped around his shoulders, was a sobbing Simon Snow.
Baz felt his heart swell even seeing him. He was so beautiful, and there was something so tragic about him that made Baz love him even more. He wanted to protect him, to shield him from whatever could come their way.
“Hey,” Baz said, his voice soft. “Simon.”
“Baz,” Simon whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “Baz, there’s a word.”
“A word? I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific, love,” Baz said, running his hand through Simon’s hair. He loved hugging Simon, holding him against his chest. He loved how stupidly short he was.
“I don’t have to choose, for once, I don’t have to choose, I don’t—“ Simon stuttered out, pulling away from Baz’s hug. “I can be both! I can be a part of both!”
“Wh—“ Baz started, but Simon was pressing his lips to his fiercely and with the force of someone over the moon in hysterics.
“I’m through with choosing, Baz. People choose me, Chosen and all that, and that’s fine and good, but I thought. I’d really thought... I don’t know, that I couldn’t choose them all back. It would just have to be one way or the other, this or that, and. It isn’t, though. It isn’t though! I can just be here! With you, being myself, not worrying about normal. I’m not Normal. But I’m not not-Normal either, I— that doesn’t make sense at all.” Simon took a deep breath. There was a grin cracking his cheeks, one so wide Baz was half convinced he’d never seen it bigger.
Simon was through with it all, really. The toxcisity and judgement of Normals, of those with less magic, of the queer kids and those who told him he couldn’t have loved Agatha if he loved Baz. He was through with all of it, really. Because what mattered was the here, the now.
Simon Snow was a proud bisexual.
And Baz loved him for that.
The woman with the teal rimmed glasses smiled.