Work Text:
February. Baz.
My cellphone beeps on the desk, beside the laptop where I’ve been writing my essay for the last two hours. I’m too invested in it, that the sound scares me.
But it’s just a text.
Unknown: hey, luca! I know we haven’t talked since last summer, but I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday! goodnight xo.
Clearly, my name isn’t Luca, but we still share the birthday. Another person would just ignore the text and keep with their life, but tonight is been really boring, so much, that I find interesting letting the person know that they sent a text to a wrong number.
Baz: I’m sorry, mate, but you’ve got the wrong number. I’m not Luca, but thanks for the good wishes though.
It’s only a few minutes after that I get an answer.
Unknown: shit, I’m sorry.
Unknown: oh, is your birthday too? well, i hope you had a good day, stranger!
Unknown: how mean of me, I’m simon, btw :)
A part of me is telling me that I shouldn’t answer back. What if is a 40-year-old pervert? Or a possible criminal?
But what if it's just a boy?
I just tell him that my name is Baz. He tells me that he's 18 years old, and that lives in London with his best friend.
I tell him that I’ve just turned 19. But don’t tell him that I live in Oxford with my parents and siblings.
April. Simon.
I’m still surprised that I’ve been really holding up a conversation with a stranger for two months, but even more surprised that him —Baz— kept talking to me too. He’s way more private than me —Penny scolded me when she discovered that the reason I was always on my phone was a stranger that lives at least two hours from us. She said that I should be more careful with the people I’ve just met.
But Baz is a cool guy, and he’s the only stranger I’ve done this with. And, anyway, he thought the exact same thing about me.
Still, we talk every day. About school —he’s studying Economics, but aspires to be a writer some day—, about our friends —he has two close friends, but also likes to be alone—. We talk until it’s really late at night, sometimes.
June. Baz.
Somehow, Simon found my Instagram. He spent a whole evening saying how I look exactly like the typical vampire stereotype, widow’s peak and all.
When I found his, I was surprised to discover how handsome he is. With bronze curls, bright blue eyes, and a golden freckled skin.
Simon: probably you forgot it, but today’s my birthday, and I don’t know what to do. any suggestions?
I didn’t forget it. But I didn’t know what to tell him exactly. For a man with a writer’s soul, I was speechless.
Baz: It was a secret, but I spent my last birthday doing uni homework. It’s weird, isn’t it?
Simon: so, not suggestions?
Baz: No good ones. Maybe watching films?
Simon: what if we see them together?
Simon: I mean, not really together, but at the same time?
That night, I realized that maybe, I like him. Like if my life wasn’t pathetic enough.
August. Simon.
Baz calls me in the middle of the night. With a puffy voice, I answer, a little bit worried about what might’ve happened.
“Baz? Is something wrong?”
“Simon…” It’s the first time I hear his voice. It’s deep, even if it sounds like he was crying.
“Baz? Are you okay?”
“Simon, no. I’m sorry for waking you up. I just, I had a small fight with my father. Nothing really important, but I needed someone.”
He tells me, then, that he wasn’t having a good day. It’s his mother’s death anniversary, and his dad discovered he’s gay.
I try my best to make him feel better. He’s worried that I might change my mind on him, that maybe I’d think that he’s weird, and that it’s okay if I decide not to talk to him more.
Honestly, he’s been a good friend to me. Even more than a friend, I’d dare to say.
He calms down, and falls asleep listening to me. With him sleeping on the other side, and listening to his slow breath, I realize I like him.
October. Baz.
My dad is finally talking to me again. I can’t help but feel better at that. We’ve never been really close —not since my mom died— but I was tired of keeping secret what I am. Probably Daphne convinced him to apologize to me.
What I can say for sure, is that Simon helped me at that time. We started to call each other at night, until one of us fell asleep. Most of the time, it’s him. My crush with him had done nothing but get a more serious thing.
I know that the only thing I’ll get from him is a broken heart. But i just can’t not to adore him: he’s kind, and sweet, and dead handsome.
Tonight, he’s telling me about how hard day he had. He yaws a lot while talking, but doesn’t want to finish the call.
When his voice sounds exhausted, I hear something that only happened in my dreams.
“Baz, I’m in love with you.”
December. Simon.
When Baz told me that he was in love with me too, I thought he was just messing up. It took me a few days to know that he was being honest.
Being far away from each other has been so shitty. Finding a safe space with someone, but only through a screen, sucks.
But he told me that he and his family are coming to London for the holidays, and that we would finally meet each other. I’ve been nervous, almost desperate. What if, once he sees me in person, he decides he doesn’t really like me? What if I only disappoint him?
I get a text from him.
Baz: I might be in front of your building. A blue one?
Baz: You should come down.
Penny stares at me as I get my jumper, but doesn’t say anything. She knows about the whole thing with Baz, and had done nothing but support me.
When I get to the street, I find him.
Taller than me, wearing a coat as black as his long hair. With rosy cheeks, and I can’t decide if it’s because of the cold or because of me.
Only a few steps spare us from each other. He closes them finally hugging me.
He’s here, and he’s real. He’s here, and I’m touching him.
“You look even more handsome in person.” Hisses at my ear.
I move back, just enough to see his face. My fingers trace every line, until I get to his lips. He nods, and I lean to kiss him.
Cold lips, cold hands. Baz kisses me back, and I know that our online love is real. All these months are taking a shape under my hands, looking like the most handsome man I've ever met.
I kiss him over and over again, under the light snow falling upon us in the pavement.