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Are you tired of me yet? I’m a little sick right now, but I swear,
when I’m ready, I’ll fly us out of here.
SIMON
I don’t know why Penny thought it would be a good idea to leave me and Baz alone. I don’t even know where she’s gone. I didn’t catch what she said on the way out of our flat.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive being alone with Baz.
He’s not looking at me. He has his eyes firmly fixed on the ground next to my feet. Before, I would’ve looked down, too, to see if there was something on the ground holding his attention. Now, I know better. I know he’s not letting himself look at me.
I don’t know when everything went so wrong.
That’s not true. Everything started going wrong after…
After.
I guess I just don’t know why everything went so wrong. I wanted to cling to Baz after. I wanted to keep him close and never let him go. He offered his support, and I took it. And then I just kept taking , and I didn’t have anything to give him back but me, broken on the sofa in my and Penny’s dirty, silent living room.
He deserves better than me. He deserves someone as perfect as he is. I don’t have anything for him. There is literally no reason for him to stay with me.
He hasn’t broken up with me. I think he just feels bad for me. He’s so good, he won’t even let himself leave. He won’t even let himself look at me, or he’ll see just how fucked up I am.
I wish I had more to give him. But I just don’t. I don’t have anything. I gave away the most valuable thing that I had, and it saved the world of mages. But I don’t have anything else.
I just feel empty. I can’t feel my magic anymore, bubbling just underneath the surface. I can’t feel anything. I’m here, and everything I should be feeling is across the world, somewhere where I can’t tell if it’s even there, much less what it is.
I guess that’s why everything went so wrong.
My eyes have drifted to the spot on the floor where Baz has been staring. I catch myself and look back up at him. He’s still staring at the floor. He won’t look at me.
I wish he’d look at me.
BAZ
I can’t let myself look at Simon.
I know he’s looking at me. I can always tell when he’s looking at me; it’s an instinct from our days at Watford. I would feel his eyes on me, and I’d look at him and sneer, because I was fifteen and unnecessarily angsty and hopelessly in love with Simon Snow.
I can’t look at him.
He’s still so beautiful. Even after everything that’s happened, even though he’s a different Simon than I knew, he’s still beautiful.
I know he’s hurting, and I desperately wish I knew how to help him, but I’m afraid that he’ll break if I get too close. I’m staring somewhere near him. It hurts to be around him right now. It always hurts to be around him, at school, when he was going off, and now, when he’s going out.
I wish I knew how to fix him. I wish I knew all of the steps I needed to take to get him back, if not to the Simon I knew, then to a Simon I could recognize.
The Simon before was mine. I don’t know if I belong to this Simon or not. I don’t know if he wants me anymore, but that’s not his biggest problem. He hasn’t left yet, and I’m not going to risk making it worse by leaving myself. I don’t want to leave. I just don’t know if he wants me to. I think he might be waiting for me to do it. I’m not going to.
Simon Snow, I’m here whenever you’re ready.
SIMON
“Baz?” My voice sounds small. Damnit, I wanted to sound confident. Maybe I should try again.
He’s looking up at me, waiting. Patient. He’s looking at me. Merlin , he’s so good.
“Can you come here?” I don’t know why I ask it. The words came out of my mouth without consulting my brain first. That doesn’t happen much these days. Honestly, I don’t say anything for my brain to consult with.
He doesn’t say anything, but he stands up and moves slowly, carefully toward the couch I’ve been sitting on for the last week. I move to make room for him, and he sits next to me. He’s tense. He doesn’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what to do now that he’s here.
I might break up with him.
I don’t want to break up with him.
“Why haven’t you left yet?”
I didn’t mean to ask that, but I guess it’s not the worst thing I could’ve said. But I’m worried about how he’s going to respond. What if this is the conversation that finally brings him to his senses?
“I’m sorry, did you want me to go?” he asks.
I shake my head and try again. “No. I mean…” I trail off, clearing my throat. “Why haven’t you. Y’know. Left. ”
“What do you mean?” He looks confused. Why is he confused? He’s got this crease between his brows. I want to run my hands over it. I can’t touch him. I don’t know if I’m allowed.
“Why haven’t you left?” That’s not going to help him. Maybe if I say it enough times, he’ll understand what I mean. I’m shit with words. These are the only ones I can find right now. He’s quiet for a long time. I can see him thinking. I suddenly regret wishing he’d look at me, because now he is, he’s really looking at me, and it’s so much. I’m worried he’ll see how much I care. I don’t want him to feel like he has to stay just because I want him to. I know he doesn’t want to. After what might have been two minutes or ten years, he speaks.
“Simon…” he starts, wary. I don’t think I want him to finish that thought. “Am I misunderstanding, or are you asking me why I haven’t left you?” He’s speaking slowly, like I might miss what he says.
I don’t miss it. I understand perfectly what he just said. He knows what I asked. Why does he seem so scared of the question? I wish he’d just be honest with me. I wish he’d get this over with, so he can leave and move on and I can sit here and wallow even more.
I nod in response to his question, looking down at my hands in my lap. If he’s looking at me, I don’t know if I can stand to be looking back at him. Especially if he’s about to follow through with what I
know
this conversation is leading up to. I think I’m already starting to cry.
Damnit.
BAZ
I haven’t said anything yet, but I know I need to. I wasn’t ready to have this conversation today, but I suppose you never know what you’re going to get with Simon, and if he wants to have this conversation right now, then I guess we’re having it.
For once, I’m at a loss for words, but I have to try. For him. For us.
“Simon,” I start. “I never wanted to leave you.” I pause. Am I saying the right thing? “Is that...what you want? For me to leave?”
He shakes his head. The late afternoon light reflects off his curls. He’s beautiful .
“No, no. That’s not...it’s just-” I give him a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’m-” He huffs in frustration.
“You deserve better than me,” he finally manages, louder than necessary. “I know you’re waiting for me to get better, Baz, but this is it. There is no better . This is all I have to offer you. And it’s not enough.” He pauses, looking like he’s considering his next words. He sighs. “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond. (Is there a “supposed to” in this case?) “Simon…” I start, but he interrupts me before I get a chance to finish.
“When someone can’t help but fuck everything up, they’re probably a fuck-up.” It’s barely audible. He’s not looking at me, but rather staring very intently at his hands folded in his lap.
Nothing has ever felt like walking on eggshells as much as this moment. I have to play my cards right. I have to get him to hear me.
“Snow,” I start again. He doesn’t react, still staring down at his hands. “Simon,” I try. Still nothing.
Simon always said he tries not to think, and overthinking is getting me nowhere. I think I need to try a new strategy.
Fuck it .
I grab his hands.
His eyes snap up to mine.
Finally.
“Simon, you’re not a fuck-up.”
“But-” he starts.
“No. Listen to me,” I say, harsher than I intended. I squeeze his hands as an apology, and then continue. “Simon Snow, you are so many things, but you are not a fuck-up. You’re amazing, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.” We’re both crying at this point, but I continue. “Simon, you’re the fucking sun-”
“And you’re crashing into me. I know.”
I nod. “I meant it when I said that. And I know you don’t believe me, but I just…” I take a deep breath. “I have to keep saying it, because if I say it enough, maybe you’ll start to believe me.
“Simon, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. So unless you decide you don’t want me anymore, I’m not going anywhere.”
He’s shaking his head. That’s...not what I wanted . Did I fuck this up?
“I know that. I know . I just...can’t make myself get it.” He’s closer to looking at me. He’s looking somewhere near my collarbone. Is that progress? I don’t know. “I’m not...who I was. Before. I’m not the Greatest Mage. I’m not even a regular mage. You were right. I’m the worst Chosen One who’s ever been chosen.”
The last part hits me like a shot to the chest. I never meant that. I never meant any of the mean things I said to him. Merlin, I can’t believe I fucked up so astronomically.
“No, I wasn’t right. I wasn’t even a little bit right.”
“But you said-”
“I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said, and there will never be a day when I do not regret the way I treated you. I was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it, and I’m sorry. Simon, I’m so sorry.” My voice is starting to break.
A minute passes, and both of us are still crying. His hands are still in mine. Neither of us knows what to say next. I think something’s changed, but I’m not sure what.
Simon closes his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I slowly move my hand to his face. He opens his eyes. I can see the fear behind them. “That’s okay, Simon. You don’t have to know.”
“I-I’ve been thinking,” he says.
“That’s a first.” He breathes out a laugh and wraps his hand around my wrist next to his face. Good. We’re getting somewhere.
“Shut up. I mean I’ve been thinking about going back to therapy.” He’s finally looking at me again.
I sigh in relief. “I think that’s a great idea, Simon.” I wipe my thumb over the tears left on his face. He leans into it.
“It’s gonna be bloody terrifying,” he says with a smile. I can tell he’s worried.
“I know. But I think it’ll be good for you.” I need him to know he has my support.
He pauses, looking like he has something to say.
“Simon? What’s wrong?”
He waits a moment, then juts out his chin like he did at school when we were about to fight. I hope it means he’s fighting for us rather than fighting against me.
“Would you come with me? To therapy? I mean, obviously I’d be going some on my own but...maybe it would be good for us? To go together?” He sounds so unsure. I’ve never been more in love with him.
“Of course I’ll go with you.”
Something’s definitely changed. It feels a little bit better.
I glance at the clock on the wall. Merlin, when did it get so late?
“Are you hungry?” I ask him.
He smiles. “Always.”
We both laugh. I stand up, looking for my phone left somewhere on the other seat before Simon asked me to join him on the couch. “I’ll order takeaway?”
Simon’s looking at me and smiling brighter than I’ve seen in a while. “Perfect.”
When the food arrives, we sit on the couch together, watching something on the TV that I’m not quite comprehending.
It doesn’t feel like we’ve solved everything. But it does feel like there’s a chance for us to move forward, together.
After we finish eating, I ask, “Do you want me to leave?”
A moment passes before Simon takes my hand and, looking me in the eye, responds, “I never want you to leave.”
I think there’s hope for us yet.