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When the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, let it be.
SIMON
It’s better if I lay here on the sofa.
That way, I can’t muck up anything more than what I’ve already mucked up.
It’s better if I lay here on the sofa.
That way, I don’t have to see the looks of pity and sadness on Baz’s and Penny’s faces. That way, Baz won’t have to look at me and realize that I’m not worth his time. I’m not worth anyone’s time.
It’s better if I lay here on the sofa.
That way, the constant light and hum of the television can help numb me of whatever I’m feeling inside.
Useless, wasted, worthless…
A fraud, a phony, a fake.
The colours outside my window turn from orange to yellow, to white. Then back to yellow, and orange, and finally to the deep blue of night. The cycle repeats day after day after day. I run the risk of losing track of time completely, if Penny and Baz weren’t here all the damn time.
And they are always here.
Always hovering, always asking me questions, always trying to get me to talk.
I don’t want to bloody talk! I want to sleep. I want to be alone. I want to disappear and no longer burden anyone.
Maybe it would have been better if the Humdrum had finished me off completely. Maybe it would have been better if I wasn’t around. Penny would be in America, with Micah and Baz would be moving on with someone more worthwhile. They would have moved on and found their place in this world. A world that I no longer belong to. A world that I never really belonged to.
It was all really a lie, wasn’t it? A beautifully crafted, perfectly executed lie. I was never meant to exist in the World of Mages. I am and have always been, just a Normal. Everything that I felt during the last 8 years of my life have been a part of that elaborate lie. The happiness, the power, the sense that I was a part of something amazing. All of it was a lie.
The friendship I felt with Penny, the love I felt with Baz; also lies. Those are the lies that hurt me the most, because they are persistent. They didn’t go away like the other lies. They didn’t go away with my magic. They didn’t go away when The Mage and the Humdrum were defeated. They didn’t go away when I failed to save Ebb’s life.
Instead, they stick around because they pity me. They stick around because they both made promises to me, and they don’t wish to break them. They stick around because maybe I make them feel better about themselves. If Penny or Baz have an off-day, well, at least they aren’t like me. At least they have their magic and at least they belong somewhere. No matter how much the world hurts them, they will never be as fucked up as me.
I can hear them now, in the kitchen, making some food. They’re always making me food, trying to get me to eat something. Just the thought of eating something makes me sick to my stomach. The smell is nauseating. I haven’t been able to keep anything down for very long. I mostly just eat the crisps I buy from the corner store and wash it down with some cider. Penny has nagged endlessly at me that I cannot sustain myself on a diet of crisps and cider. It was annoying at first, but now I’ve learned to drown her out.
A small voice inside is telling me that they’re doing it because they’re concerned for me and that they just want to help. I shut that voice up and insist that they see me as so pitiful that I can’t even cook for myself.
They’re probably right. I’d probably just end up setting the flat on fire. Let’s hope Baz isn’t nearby if I ever do attempt to cook for myself.
I know what will happen next. They’ll finish cooking whatever it is they’re cooking. One of them will sit at the table and do schoolwork while eating. The other will sit down on the sofa’s armrest and try to get me to eat something. Then they’ll switch places. That goes on for about a couple of hours, until the food’s gone cold. They’ll then wrap the food up and finally leave me in peace. They’ll study together for a few more hours until Baz decides he’s had enough and leaves for the night. Penny will usually go to bed once he leaves.
It’s at this time, where I finally get off the couch. I will walk to the balcony of the flat and just stare outside at the other buildings, the sky, the people, and the ground below. I will lean my body halfway over the edge and just stare at the ground below. I’ll stare and I’ll think and maybe I’ll push myself a little further over the edge. Maybe I’ll bring myself closer to the ground this time. Maybe I’ll finally have the courage to let go. Maybe I’ll finally have the courage to finally let Penny and Baz free from ever worrying about me again.
Or maybe I’ll be a coward and make my way back to the couch. More likely, it’ll be that outcome because I’ll think of their faces and how I just want to see them for one more day.
But, who’s to say really?
“Snow? Would you like some of this fettucini? Bunce has tried a new recipe and she’s convinced it’s good enough for Ramsey. I personally think she’s daft.”
So Baz has the first shift today. Very well then.
Here we go.
I close the notebook and take a deep breath. The entry I’ve just read was from a very dark moment in my life. Or rather, it was a recollection of a very dark time in my life. I had written it at the suggestion of my therapist. He suggested that I start keeping a journal as a way to track my thoughts. That way, it would be easier for me to isolate the negative thoughts in my head. The belief was that, by isolating my thoughts, it would become easier to challenge them. By writing them down, they become tactile. By becoming tactile, they become easier to fight and replace with more positive thoughts.
I thought it was all bollocks at first and was not very good at tracking my thoughts. That is, until one of my intrusive thoughts settled into my brain and would not leave. It sat there and festered and festered, until it completely took over. That day, I nearly returned to the sofa and threw away everything that I had worked so hard to achieve. That day, I looked at Baz, and thought about the ways he would be better off without me and that maybe I should end it right now.
Instead of giving into my dark thoughts, I asked him if he had an empty notebook and a pen I could borrow. And because he is an absolute intellectual tosser, of course he had a spare notebook in his bag, as well as a burgundy pen (Baz likes to use non-conventional writing tools. He’s currently very excited about using fountain pens). I could tell from his eyes that he wanted desperately to ask me what was wrong. I gave him a sad smile and sat down at the table and began to write.
I wrote and I cried, and I thought back to that dark, depressing part of my life. Baz had made me some tea and sat down next to me, rubbing my shoulders and grabbing my hand when I needed it. I continued to write as he brought me some food and reheated my tea when it got cold. I cried, as he held my hand and ran his thumb over my rough knuckles. When I was done, I closed the book and let him hold me. I let him hold me while I cried onto his expensive shirt.
I now look at the entry and think about how far I have come since not only the day I wrote the entry, but also the time where I felt no hope. It’s been almost seven years since my last year at Watford, and I can’t believe how different my life has been since then. It hasn’t been easy and I still slip up from time to time.
My notebook has grown into a collection, spanning throughout my experiences volunteering with displaced youth, throughout my work as a counselor, and throughout my decision to go to University, specializing in Psychology. I turn to the framed diploma on the wall (Baz had wanted to get the most distinguished looking frame; I veto-ed it right away considering it was just an undergraduate’s diploma), and to the acceptance letters in my hand. I had gotten accepted into a Master’s program at both University College of London as well as Cambridge fucking University.
Imagine… Me, Simon Snow attending a University as prestigious as fucking Cambridge.
Cambridge.
I haven’t yet told Baz about my acceptance letters, but I have been talking about and stressing over this application process for nearly all of last year. The letters had come this morning and I was planning on waiting until he got home before telling him.
Baz.
I think about Baz and how far we have come as a couple. When I think back to how we went from enemies, to lovers who could not communicate, to now being in a healthy stable relationship. I can’t believe it sometimes. We do slip up and we do fight occasionally ( rarely… if ever at all), but we always come back to each other. We needed a fair bit of help in learning how to bridge that gap in communication, but after a lot of work, I think we’re starting to get to a point where we’re just happy together. The doubts barely linger in my mind anymore. Now, I just want to focus on making sure that Baz feels happy and secure with us. I do that by letting him know that I love him and care about him and that I will always be there for him.
We had been living together for almost a year (Penny had moved in with Shepard, after convincing him to stay in London -- like he was EVER going to leave Penny, the man is mad about her)( Baz’s aunt moved in with a Normal woman she had been seeing for years, so she wasn’t upset by the loss of a flat-mate) and I would say the biggest challenge has been learning how to balance giving space and receiving love and affection. I would say that we’re not doing too shabby.
As if my thoughts summon him, Baz steps through the threshold of the flat, groceries in his arms. “Hello, Love. How was your day?” He asks. I love it when he calls me that… Love . I’m his Love, and he is mine. I smile and blush. It makes me happy that even after all this time, Baz can still make me blush like this.
“Hey babe… I uhhh… I have umm... some news.” Baz raises an eyebrow at me. He places the bags on top of the kitchen counter and walks over to me. He places a kiss on my head, when he notices the letters on the table. His eyes widen and he grabs both letters from the table.
Baz is quiet. I start picking at my cuticles and my leg starts to bounce. Baz looks at me, and it can only be described as a look of complete adoration. Seven years ago, I would have hated that look and fought it. Now, I smile back at him and grab his hand and I nod at him.
“Simon…” he breathes out. He settles slowly into the chair next to me. He looks at me and back to the letters. He gives my hand a squeeze and lifts it up to his face. He gives it a small kiss and nuzzles it softly. “Love, I knew you would make it in… Bloody Cambridge . I am so proud of you, my darling.”
I blush and momentarily look away from him, before I remember that it’s alright to feel vulnerable and that I’ve earned this moment of bliss. I look back at him and I can feel a few tears in my eyes. Baz cups my face in his hands and draws me into a deep kiss. I grab onto his face and I take in everything about him. His scent (still the same combination of cedar and bergamot that he’s always had), the cold of his hands, the softness of his lips. The light hum of his voice as he takes me in as well. He breaks our kiss and places another one on my forehead.
“Bloody Cambridge …” I gasp out, shaking my head. I still cannot believe it.
“Love… You’ve earned it!” Baz is running his fingers through my hair. I tip my head towards him, enjoying this calming touch.
“Can I handle it?”
Baz barks out a laugh. “You killed a dragon during first year. You defeated a chimera during our fifth. You graduated Uni with honours! You can handle anything and everything!”
“But it’s so pretentious… ” I make a face and stick my tongue out in disgust. Honestly, the thought of being surrounded by people who were probably more pretentious than Baz (wait… that may not be possible, no one is more pretentious than my posh boyfriend).
“Simon…” Baz raises an eyebrow at me. “I think you can handle a few pretentious snobs. You won me over without even trying.”
“I’ll be so far away.” I move closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. Baz pulls me onto his lap and I settle into the crook of his neck. I nuzzle him a little and think about how crazy I’ll be without him near me everyday.
“I’ll come visit. Crowely, maybe I’ll even move there with you until you’ve done your Master’s.” Baz is lightly scratching my back and I let out a tiny moan. I fucking love it when he does that. I pull away from him for a second and wrap my arms around his neck. I stare into his stormy-grey eyes.
“I’m terrified,” I whisper.
Baz’s lips curl up into a gentle half-smile. He trails his fingers over my arms. “And that’s alright. We’ll figure it out.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah let it be. There will be an answer, let it be. Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.