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Simon
Jesus Christ, I hate it here. I hate being in this house when he's here, especially after he's been drinking. The second the sound of the keys in the door catches my attention, I'm gone and I'm cursing myself for being this stupid. I can't believe I genuinely thought he wasn't going to be back this early. I turn off the television and try to sprint quietly down the hallway and to my room, praying he's drunk enough to ignore the mess and go to his.
Of course, though, I'm not that lucky. Why would I be?
"Simon?" his voice rings through the empty halls as I softly shut the door. If I lock the door and get in bed, it'll be okay, right?
I do just that, locking the door and sneaking to my bed before crawling under the covers and facing away from the hall. It's gone quiet, hopefully meaning he's gone to bed and given me a pass for the night. Good things like that don't tend to happen though, and he's banging at my bedroom door in a minute flat yelling at me.
"Simon, get the hell out here."
Pretend you're asleep. Pretend you're asleep. Pretend you're asleep.
More banging and yelling ensues, "I know for a fact you're not asleep, Simon. Get out here now." His words are slightly slurring together and I see his shadow under the crack of my door stumble.
I sigh and try to keep up my facade, unlocking the door and squinting at the hall light, "Hmm?" I put a layer of sleep and grogginess over my voice. Years of experience turn you into a great actor.
"Cut the shit, Simon," his breath reeked and the whites of his eyes are red, "I know you weren't asleep in there."
"I damn well may have been," I roll my eyes. He glares at me harshly and I immediately stand up straight and look ahead, "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have lied." my voice has dropped in volume and intensity; I refuse to meet his eyes.
"Why are you up so late?" his tone was even and collected, only slurred slightly. Shit.
"I was just watching TV, I was about to go to sleep when you got home-"
"Then why is there a mess in there?"
"I was going to clean it before I went to bed, I didn't mean to-"
"So were you going to bed or were you cleaning?" he's so good at running circles around me until I'm trapped.
"I was-"
"Cause, ya know Simon," his voice drops, "it seems like you got a lying problem," his eyes are glassy and staring to narrow in anger. "Can't even keep a straight story, can you?" his voice is getting scarier and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
"I'm sorry sir I-"
"Just like your mother," he spits it harshly, leaning down to glare in my eyes. I gulp and biting my tongue, narrowly avoiding going off on him. Stay Calm Simon.
"You're just like her, probably why you pushed her away. We were so happy before you came along, you know that?" tears burn the corners of my eyes and my hands curl into fists at my sides. He talks so freely and I want nothing more than to knock him out. I want to punch him in his stupid face and break his nose. "You're just as useless as she was," he mumbles.
I don't remember when, but I blackout. I pull my fist back before I realize I'm doing it and he's already gone reeling by the time I come to. I can see him regain his composure, giving me a death glare as I stand frozen. I can't seem to move my feet, no matter how much I know I need to; I'm like a deer caught in headlights. I watch him storm up in front of me and as soon as he's arm's length, he's gripping my collar.
"Listen here you little shit," he starts his threats harsh, leaving me with a sinking fear in my gut, "you're lucky I don't-" he's holding me in place by my shirt while I grip his wrist. A random (and idiotic) burst of confidence encourages me to push his buttons just a little bit more.
"Do what, Davy?" I still don't know what idiot God gave me the ability to think, let alone speak.
He grunts at me and drops the grip on my shirt, effectively shoving me to the ground, "You ungrateful little-" he wants to hurl another threat at me, but I've already regained my footing and I get ready to push him out of the door frame before slamming and locking it again.
I dash to my bed, trying to block out the sound of his fist hit the door over and over again. He's yelling empty threats at me the whole time, his voice angry and intimidating. I toss the blankets around frantically, trying to find my phone until I hear a ding and it lights up behind my bed. I'm terrified the door will break any second, but I push that fear down and scramble for my phone.
Penny texted me. I shake my head and mumble a soft 'not now' as I pull up his contact and type out a message.
He's at it again. I'm nervous.
It takes a second for a reply. By then, the beating sound of his fist against my door has stopped, and while that should've helped, it scared me more than anything.
I'm on my way.
I sigh in relief and listen outside the door. I faintly hear his bedroom door slam at the other end of the house and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
I scroll through my phone, periodically checking the time. I texted Baz at 11:42 p.m. The drive here takes about 15 minutes, so he should be here by 11:57 if all goes well. The twisting feeling in my gut has gone down and my hands have almost stopped shaking, so that's a plus. The threats were empty, I knew they were, but that doesn't make them any less terrifying in the moment.
Time passes quickly as I pace in my room, nearing almost midnight. "He just got stuck in traffic," I mumble to myself, wrapping myself tightly. "He'll be here, he isn't going to ditch you," I keep trying to reassure myself, but as it reaches 12:13 a.m. I get nervous. It never takes this long for him to get here after a message like that. "He had to get gas," I tell myself, wanting so badly to believe it.
I start giving up hope of him coming and give in to the thoughts telling me that this is the time he didn't come. This is the night he never showed up.
But then my phone buzzes and all my thoughts are out the window,
Hey, let me in. I'm outside with your favorite pizza.
Not in here I type back He's still here. Can we leave?
Whatever you want, Snow.
I shut my phone off and grab a light jacket after double-checking to make sure my door is locked. I've never snuck out, only snuck Baz in. I know he can't be here though, not when he could wake up at any moment and barge in my room. He'd lose his shit seeing me in my room with a guy, with the door locked no less. I can only imagine some of the colorful names he'd throw at me. Disappointment, weak, queer. He wouldn't hold back this time.
Coming?
His message catches me off guard and I shake my thoughts and glance once more at the door before sighing and climbing in front of the window at the head of my bed. I take another deep breath and quietly slide the window open just enough for me to climb through. True to his word, Baz is standing in the shadows next to my window.
"Took your sweet time, huh Snow?"
"Shut up," I brush him off with a smirk and start towards his car. He follows quickly behind.
I plop down in the passenger seat and he climbs into the driver seat. We share a small nod and he starts driving away.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm not entirely sure yet if I'm being honest. We usually sit in your room all night when this happens. I can take us to the mall parking lot and we can just sit if that makes you feel better?"
I smile and nod staring out the window as he drives. His car is absolutely frigid and he's wearing a small thin long sleeve. How he does it I have no idea. I can also smell the pizza sitting in the backseat. I just smile to myself as I stare at the road. I don't go out a lot, mainly just to school and home. Baz is the only friend I have that has their license and can drive me around, but I hate asking that of him. Especially at midnight. And I hate asking my dad to go anywhere, I avoid conversation with him in general if I can.
The mall has long since closed, but the streetlights still shine brightly above us. Baz pulls into a spot near the back of the lot and puts the car in park, he reaches into the back seat and grabs a box.
"Sorry I took so long, I thought you might like this," he opened the box and I swear I could hug him (he probably gives really good hugs). He actually managed to remember my pizza order.
"Totally forgiven if you hand me a slice right now," I joke and he does as I asked. I was expecting at least a paper plate, maybe even an actual dinner plate from his house, but he hands me nothing. "You're letting me eat something this messy in your car?"
"You deserve some comfort. I also may have forgotten to grab plates. Think of yourself in debt to me if you make any kind of a mess. You should owe me anyway, I spent nearly five minutes looking for your stupid scones," his tone is light and playful and he's grabbing a slice himself. "Clearly, I was unsuccessful there," he looks up at me, "Do you wanna talk about what happened?"
I don't even acknowledge his question, too caught off guard by his actions. Not only is he sitting awake with me at past midnight in a parking lot, but he stopped and spent his money to get me pizza and even searched for scones. All of this just to make me happy. I don't understand why he's being so nice. We didn't get along well in the beginning, but as graduation approaches, I guess he's taken a liking to treating me with some form of respect.
I'm quickly reminded he asked a question when he clears his throat, looking at me confused for my silence. I nod and motion for him to wait.
I take a final bite and he sits expectingly but patiently, "He went out drinking again," I just started and I could already see the frown forming on his face, "and he came home earlier than I anticipating. I had a cup and a bowl sitting in the living room because I thought it was safe, and I didn't even notice he was home until I heard his keys jingling in the door."
I tell the rest of the story, breath catching at particularly hard parts and Baz listened the entire time. He even rested a hand on my leg when I started to tear up. I refuse to cry in front of him though. He doesn't need to nor would he want to see that.
"I'm sorry, Simon. I'm sorry he treats you like that," he mumbles it, reaching up to grip my arm, hand trembling slightly.
Did he just call me Simon? He never calls me Simon.
I shrug. "Is there a particular reason you were afraid of us staying there?" his voice is so soft I'm almost convinced he didn't say it. He next talks like that, especially not at me.
"Didn't want him to see you, I guess. It would've been too risky,"
"Too.. risky?"
"He could've seen you and attacked you, or attacked me. We wouldn't be able to get out in your car and away before he noticed you, and we couldn't hide you in my room. He'd find you and then that looks even worse on our part," I keep on talking and he just listens intently.
"I doubt he'd hurt me, Simon," he shakes his head and I pause in confusion again.
He did it again! He called me Simon.
"Oh, I doubt it too. But there's still the risk and I'm not putting you in danger if I can help it."
He just nods and drops his hand to rub soft and soothing circles on my thigh. We'd run out of conversation for now and I know tomorrow he'll text me periodically throughout the day to make sure I'm okay and nothing more. And for some reason, that upsets me. It never has in the past, but I want more than that.
Baz
Just ask him Pitch. You'll never get anywhere if you don't start asking him things.
I could see the way his face scrunched in confusion when I called him Simon, and I could tell he wanted to ask about it. I wish he would've. And when I knew he wasn't going to, I wish I would've asked what was on his mind.
I'm not sure of many things, but I am sure of a few. I want to hold him tight and protect him, I don't want to drive him back to his house (I'd rather him stay with me), and I want to fight Davy. That's all I'm sure of. I know very well that I'm pining like a fool, but I don't care anymore. The hurt in Simon's eyes when he tells me about his father pains me in a way I know it shouldn't.
He's zoning out, tugging on the skin on his bottom lip while I continue to rub soft patterns on his leg. His lips look soft, even if he's chewing mindlessly on the dead skin there. I want to ask him what has him so worked up, but instead, I just grip his hand to get his attention. (Also maybe I want to hold his hand. Sue me).
He jumps slightly before chuckling and gripping my hand just as tight. My heart soars a little higher than it should at the fact that he didn't push me away. Merlin, I really do act like I have a schoolgirl crush on him, don't I? Dev and Niall pick at me constantly for it, but I don't understand how someone could not love Simon Snow.
He's so sweet and caring while being protective and terrifying at the same time. He has these arms that you know can either hold you close or rock your shit if you aren't careful, and Snow is a fighter. I've been introduced to both sides of those arms, nice and mean, and I wouldn't trade those experiences for the world. Another thing I wouldn't trade away, the way he looks at those he cares about.
I got the luxury of one of those looks on a particularly bad night. I held Simon in my arms until he calmed down, softly shushing him and tracing nonsense onto his back while he tried to control his breathing. I don't think he paid attention to the hearts I drew or how many times I wrote the word 'love' on his back as if tracing it could make it true. He looked up at me, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed, and smiled at me. I studied the soft look in his eyes as though I could find the answers to all of my life's questions in them.
I want that again. I want to be held and to hold him like that again, but I can't manage to speak out.
Snow, as he does, always manages to make the first move.
"What are you thinking about?" he's whispering now, running his thumb over my knuckles.
You, Simon. I want to say it so badly. It'd be so easy and there's absolutely nothing stopping me. I can think of a million different ways I can play it off as a joke if things go wrong.
"School. Graduation," I shrug, looking down as I lie through my teeth. I feel him nod his head.
"It's a scary thing. I still don't fully know who I want to be or where I want to go," I can tell this is something he doesn't admit often. He looks so put together at school, but I can see right through him and his facade. "Davy wants me to work in business with him, and eventually take over his position one day."
"Is that what you want to do, Simon?" his breath catches in his throat. At the question or his name, I'm not sure.
"That's what Davy wants."
"But not what you want. Snow, you're in charge of your own future. You don't have to live into someone else's premade prophesy for you. You decide your fate all on your own."
"You called me Simon earlier," the corner of his lip turns upward and he chuckles.
"I did not."
"You did."
I just shake my head, subconsciously moving closer to him. Maybe I keep my car cold so I have an excuse to get closer to Simon Snow, maybe it's all a coincidence, I don't have to answer to anyone.
"What were you thinking about? You seemed to be much more worried than for it just be about school," I ask.
Simon
You, Baz. I'm not sure why and I'm not sure in what way I'm thinking about him, but I am. I'm thinking about wrapping him in my arms (I never fail to notice the goosebumps on his skin when he gets chill), I'm thinking about pushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear (he's let it get so long), I'm thinking-
I think I want to kiss him.
"You," I tell him. I see the way his eyes widen and I'm not entirely sure why I thought being honest was a good idea. I can see him shoving me off of him, putting his car in drive, and kicking me out as soon as we get to my place. I see him blocking my number and spreading rumors around school. I see him scoffing at me in the hallways and losing the one person I let get close to me. I'm waiting for the shove, but it never comes.
I look up at him and he's still staring at me all wide-eyed with his mouth slightly open. I think I've finally broken him.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"How?" his voice is so low and breathy I almost can't hear it.
"What do you mean?"
"How are you thinking of me, Simon." he sounds eager now, impatient, and I see his eyes scan over my face.
We're not super close, but close enough I can barely feel his breath on my chin as he leans over the center console while I'm backed up against the window. His eyes are urgent as he settles slightly closer to me. I can see his eyes flit between my eyes and my lips and I realize,
He wants to kiss me too.
I've always been shit with words, this time is no different. I can't even string together a single sentence. He's too close and his car is too cold and he's right there and I realize this might be why I always wanted more from him. Why the one-sided conversations always rubbed me wrong and why I want more than a "are you okay?" text. I want him.
And with that, I'm crashing into him. My lips meet his and suddenly everything else vanishes. All I can feel is the way he's pushing back against me or the way his hand has landed on my waist or the way his hair is sliding in between my fingers as I bring him closer.
It's not hot like the movies would have you believe. I don't want to rip his shirt off (okay maybe I do, but that's not important) and take him right now. I just want to hold him. And fuck do I want to keep kissing him.
But he's pulling away and looking up at me with soft gray eyes. I can feel his breath on my lips as he whispers to me, "Simon."
I can't help the grin that creeps its way onto my cheeks. I can see every detail of his face perfectly; His skin is soft and completely unblemished (which isn't fair) and he has these eyes that you can't help but feel drawn into his spell when you see them. I know I could ask. Ask him to be mine, and he'd do it. He has that 'I will follow you to the ends of the earth' look on his face. I also know he won't. He won't ask, just patiently wait for me to make this move too.
"Baz," he backs up slightly, but I keep him held close, "do... do you like me?"
"Did I need to make it more obvious, Snow?"
I shake my head and kiss him again, he melts into it before I pull away, "Do you want to.. fuck do you-"
"Do I want to...?"
"Boyfriend. Be my boyfriend," I can finally manage to get it out. The phrase felt so foreign on my tongue, but I couldn't be happier than I am right now. Not when Baz is swearing under his breath and pulling me back into him. Not when I'm kissing Baz.
The clock wiggles it's way into my mind, and I can't help but glance. Big bold letters read 1:57 am. I know I should go back home; climb into bed before he notices I've left and call this night while I'm ahead. But Baz is in my arms and who knows when I'll have the balls to leave again.
So, against my better judgment, I pull away and hold his face in my cheeks, "Let's go to the park."
"The park?" his tone has completely shifted and he's staring me genuinely dumbfounded, "Snow, the park is closed."
"So is the mall, Pitch, but we're still kissing in the parking lot." he rolls his eyes at me, smirking at the roof of his car. "That's part of the fun! Don't be a buzzkill, Baz."
"What am I if not a buzzkill?"
"Loser. I want to go swing in the park."
He's losing this battle, chewing at the inside of his cheeks before sitting himself back in his seat properly. He doesn't say a word as he puts the car in drive and we're off. He has a single hand on the wheel, the other holding my thigh and I notice he's taken quite the liking to tracing patterns into my clothing. The lights whirl past us. The roads are empty because everyone else is in their houses asleep.
Baz
I still don't know how I ended up here, speeding down the empty streets with one hand on Simon Snow's thigh, but I'm in no way complaining. Everything seems to be moving so fast, but I've been waiting for this for years. There is no amount of too fast. If Simon wants a late-night trip to the park, he'll damn well get it.
I look over at him. He's smiling into his hand and propping his chin up to gaze out of the window. He looks so giddy, like he can barely stay in his seat. I just can't help but wonder which one of the guys owes the other money. I always heard offhandedly that Dev and Niall had a bet of who would ask who out first. I always thought their optimism was cute, but they were apparently onto something.
Simon Snow is mine. He's mine to hold, and touch, and embrace. Mine to text or call when I need him. His curls are mine to run my hands through and his lips are mine to kiss. I really am living a charmed life, aren’t I?
I pull up to the park. The street lamps illuminate the equipment in a yellow glow, and the thick brush of trees surrounding it look both captivating and horrifying. Simon is out of the car in an instant, jumping onto a swing much too small for him. I'd be a fool to not follow.
He's motioning for me to sit in the swing next to him, so I do. I honestly can't imagine he's having much fun. The seats are wildly uncomfortable since they're insanely too small for us and every time I put my full weight into it, I can feel the rough material bruising my hips. Simon is giggling like a little boy, kicking his legs higher and higher and encouraging me to do the same. So, I ignore the squeezing pain of the much too small seats in my thighs and hips and swing with him.
I don't know how long we swing, but I know I see Simon fly out of the seat and land (very ungraciously may I add) in front of the swing set. I, as a normal human would, drag my feet to get the swing to slow. It wasn't hard, my legs are long. Snow doesn't wait for me, he takes off running to a set of climbing bars and it dawns on me,
He's going to make me climb after him.
I let out an exasperated sigh and chase after him, not failing to notice how he's already made it to the top. God, I really do love this man.
Simon
Baz is slowly making his way up the jungle gym, and I've never seen someone struggle more to climb something that they're taller than (when standing, he's much taller than this playset).
"Need a hand, Pitch?" I ask cockily, reaching a hand out to grab.
I don't know what I expected, honestly, and I really should've seen it coming. I should've known he'd pull me down by my hand to watch me tumble to the ground. He didn't think this through, though, because I land on top of him and not the other way around.
I hear a grunt and I swear word, but I can't move to get up. He's snaked his hands around my waist, holding my back flush against his chest while burying his face into my neck. Neither of us are fighting to move anytime soon.
"I've been waiting for so long, Snow."
"Oh?"
"I've been pining helplessly over you for years, I'm entirely sure how you didn't notice," he's scoffing playfully and kissing up towards my ear.
"You know, I think I did. I just didn't know what it was. And I think I have been too, just, not really knowing - I'm not the best with feelings," I can barely stutter it out, words getting caught in my throat before I even think of them.
"Clearly," he mumbles into my skin and I just smile.
I smile because we're sitting on the ground in our childhood park at well past 2 in the morning (I wouldn't be surprised if it was going on 3). We're sitting on the ground and he's holding me in a way I never imagined possible. One of his hands has gripped mine again while his arms pull me closer and our legs are tangled. I try to recall what led me to this moment. To remember how I ended up in Baz's arms with kisses being planted along my neck.
"Thank you for being there when I needed you," I mumble it so softly, like it's a secret only he is allowed to hear.
"Simon, love, I'll always be right here. I'll always come running when you need me most."
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes and I completely melt into him. To think, I was so convinced this is the night that he didn't show up.
But he'll always come running.