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BAZ
“When someone shows you who they are, believe them.”
I stare at Snow.
What in the name of fuck was that?
When he'd stopped me as I was going out to get curry, I'd thought that maybe he'd changed his mind and was hungry enough to eat something. That maybe we could eat together. Do something together, after days of cold distance. Instead he said something I wasn't expecting and now I don't know what to say.
“I'm afraid, I don't know what you mean, Snow.”
He looks at me, face devoid of expression. It's chilling because Simon wears his heart on his sleeve. Even my baby brother would be able to tell when Simon's happy or angry or morose. Right now, though, I can't see anything on his blank face.
But his eyes are traitors; they betray him and tell me that he's in a turmoil. Something cold crawls all over my heart and clutches it in a vice like grip.
“I meant what I said.” He says, averting his gaze. “I showed you who I am. You should believe me.”
“Snow-” I start but I think after an entire day of stifling silence, his words are pouring out of him to compensate for it and he cuts me off before I can get more than his name out of my mouth.
“You saw who I was but this is what I am now. This,” He gestures towards himself, the cider he was drinking, the telly, the sofa. “this is what I am now and you should believe me.”
He isn't.
He's so much more.
I know he's a mess, a sad mess, but he's so much more than what he thinks himself to be. He might not be the most powerful mage now but he's still Simon. My beautiful, golden Simon.
“I'm nothing like you, Baz. I- I'm not enough. I never would be-”
No. No. No.
“Simon-”
“-and you should believe me. I don't want to tie you down.” He tugs at his curls in frustration as I listen to him in a horrified silence. “I don't want you to suffer because of me. That's- that's the last thing I want.”
“Simon-”
“I hate that you're miserable, Baz. I hate that you're sad because of me. I- I don't want that. I want you to go. I want you to be free. You don't have to be with a fuck up like me. Please, Baz. Go.”
SIMON
Baz has always been good at hiding his expressions. When we were at Watford, he could disguise his anger or his happiness with cold indifference. You couldn't tell what he was thinking by looking at him. There was a mask always at place, never falling, never letting me or anyone's else see what he felt.
That mask is on his face as soon as I ask him to go. There's an air of complete calmness and quiet, cold indifference, around him.
“You want me to go? You want us to break up?”
His words are soft, barely above a whisper, but they ring loud and clear in my ears. I can't look at him. I have no answer to that. Do I want him to go? Do I want us to break up?
No. I want him. I always do. I want him here, next to me. I want him to be mine, at the surface at least. I want to hold him in my arms. I want to give him all that I can.
I don't want him to go. I never want him to go. But I think he wants to. I think that's what he needs and I'm done being a selfish prick. I'll set him free so that he can go and live his life. He doesn't deserve to be tied down by a tosser like me.
I'm giving him what he deserves.
But I can't explain all this to Baz without stumbling over my words and getting it all wrong. He'll feel sorry for me and he'll feel guilty for leaving. So he'll end up staying and I can't have that. I won't allow myself that.
“Yes.” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. It won't go away. “I want you to go, Baz. I want us to break up. For your own good.”
I expect him to keep that air of nonchalance about him, to accept it wordlessly. But he doesn't do that. Baz is full of surprises, I've learnt that over time, and he surprises me again.
He goes off.
“For my own good? For my own good? Bull fucking shit, Simon.” He snarls, striding over to me. “That's what you tell me? That you're doing this for me and this,” He points his finger at me and I flinch involuntarily. “is who you are? You want us to break up because you think you're a fuck up and want to protect me? Because Simon bloody Snow thinks he is a fucking mess, he'll leave his boyfriend without even considering what his boyfriend wants. You want us to break up, and I'm supposed to go along with it? What about my wants? What if I don't want this? Don't I get a say in this?”
“Baz-”
“Shut the fuck up, Simon. You said what you wanted to say and now I deserve to get my opinion out here too. If you truly, genuinely want me to go because you don't love me, because you don't want me, I will. I will leave and I'll not bother you ever again. But you're doing this because you just can't stop being a fucking hero. Because you breaking up with me will make me 'happy'. Well newsflash, Simon Snow, it fucking wouldn't. Do you know why I'm miserable? Do you know why I'm sad? Because I- because I can't help you. I-”
He chokes on his words as tears start to well up in his eyes. He's standing before me, lips trembling, fists clenched. His breathing is ragged and laboured. He looks wrecked, a man at his wits end.
I've been listening to him in a stunned silence, flinching at his words. It's like I've been in a deep slumber and each word is a slap, waking me up from my stupor.
“I want to help you. I want you to be happy. I don't want you to push me away. I chose you. I choose you each day, even when you don't talk to me, when you pull into yourself and don't let me get past the walls around you. I choose you because there won't come day when I'll stop. Because yes, you are a mess, a bloody trainwreck, but that isn't what I see in you. You're my sun.”
He's crying, the words choking him. I'm still sitting dumbly on the sofa, staring up at him and my vision's been blurred by my tears.
“You're my sun. How dare you think you're not enough? How dare you think that your trauma is all that you are? I'll still go, if you want me to. I really don't want you to do this if you are unhappy with me, if you still want me to go. I will go and make myself scarce. But I want you to know that this is not who you are. Your magic never defined you, you are much more than someone who you think yourself to be.”
Deep breaths.
Baz crouches down, so that our eyes are at the same level. I've seen his eyes countless times, I've memorised the grey of them. I know the shape, I know the barely noticeable crinkles around them. I love them, like I love every part of him.
They're flooded with his tears now. Half angry and half sorrowful.
“You may not believe me, Simon, but you are so much more. I'd never- I'd never be happy without you.”
My arms are around him before I know it, I can barely hold my sobs in. His tears are drenching my shirt, and he hiccups as he holds me back just as fiercely.
I love him.
And maybe he loves me too.