Work Text:
BAZ
Simon Snow is lying on the sofa.
A few months ago, I’d feel completely devastated if I found him like this. It used to be bad, seeing him lying on the couch. It used to mean that we – more specifically, I – had failed helping him, once again.
It would mean that he was stuck and suffering because of his depression, his insecurities and all his trauma, that he still hated seeing our faces – my face; the slightest sight of me. Which meant I was, once again, loving him absolutely hopelessly . That he found himself a failure, an “absolute fuckup” (his words, of fucking course, not mine), thinking he was making me suffer . Being sure that, if I didn’t, he had to end this . End us.
But now, everything is over. I’ve never been happier. I’ve never felt more alive.
And – and I couldn’t feel better about saying this – Simon Snow is absolutely thriving.
He’s never looked better. It amazes how every day that passes Snow manages to look more and more handsome than he used to. It’s a shame, really – every time I look at him, I’m more and more certain that he’s the most beautiful person in the whole world. No one could ever compare to him. The delicious moles and freckles, those perfect blue eyes. The beautiful scars in his chest. He’s grown his hair again, longer than it used to be when he was still at Watford, now not because he was growing it out on neglect, but because he likes it. I probably had something to do with it too; despite my best efforts, he knows I personally love his hair when it’s longer. His perfect golden curls bouncing when he walks and shining with light only make him look more and more like the sun.
I’d say he is my sun – except I hate the sun in my eyes, and I immensely adore the sight of Simon. Also, if he were the sun, I’d still be crashing into him. This would end in flames. And this can’t end like that. Not now, that we’re finally so freaking happy I might actually explode. Not now, that the war is over, and everything else is over, and we’re allowed to feel. Not now, that we’re finally good with ourselves, and with each other. After so much hurting, I don’t know what I’d do if this ended just as we finished going through healing.
His skin is so warm against mine. Or maybe I’m just too cold. Either way, lying on Simon’s chest is probably the most marvelous – and yet perfectly overwhelming – thing I’ve done.
Right now, it’s not that Simon Snow is lying on the couch. It’s that I’m here with him.