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Baz
Bunce left the flat some time ago. So for the past hour or so, it's been me and Simon. A year ago, I would’ve been ecstatic for some alone time with him. Time to unwind, to openly enjoy each other’s company without offhand remarks from his friend. I know she means well and it's all jokes to her, but bless her, I never liked them.
She won’t dare make them now, though. I don’t think she could if she wanted to.
Simon doesn’t let me touch him anymore. I hardly get to look at him without him hiding away. Like, physically hiding. He goes into his room and locks the door behind him like he’s warding something away and if he can’t see it, it's not real. This monster he’s fighting isn’t real.
Today’s a luckier day, though. I never said lucky meant good . It just means that he’s in the sitting room. Television on, a bottle of cider on the ground beside him. He couldn’t even make it to the table.
I’m making us tea in the kitchen. His favorite. Used to, when he smelt it, he would be giddy and wrap his arms around my waist while I finished the cups. He’d spin me around and kiss me sweetly before taking his tea and leading me to the couch.
I don’t know where his life went. Where my sunshine boy went. He’s been gone for so long, I don’t know how to get him back.
I shake my head and grab the teacups to take with me. He’s got some plain show on, background noise is all it is. I don’t think he’s watching it. His eyes are on the screen, but he’s looking past it and his gaze is dull.
I try to hand him a cup.
“I made your favorite.”
He takes it without a word and promptly sets it down.
“I was thinking about takeout for dinner. Maybe the new place that opened down the street?”
He shrugs.
“Shall I take that as a yes?”
“I don’t care”
“Huzzah, it speaks.” I’ve fallen back into our Watford ways. I poke the bear with a stick to get a reaction. The only difference is, he doesn’t typically react. He can’t go off anymore.
I wonder if that’s the problem. His magic. I think he misses it.
I try not to use mine around the flat. It feels patronizing.
“Come off it, Baz.” His voice is cold and he glares at the television.
That’s the reaction I get?
I resign myself to an evening alone. Simon is here, but I’m completely and utterly alone in this flat.
I want to bring up his therapist. I got a call from her, Simon stopped showing up to their meetings without a word and she wanted to make sure he was okay.
He isn’t, no matter how much he says he is. We don’t need to spend the money, Baz, he tells me. I’ve got more than enough, I respond. Maybe I just don’t want to anymore. I’m fine, he snaps. You very well aren’t I tell him. Fuck off. I know what I want and it isn’t her, and then a slammed bedroom door followed by a soft click of his lock.
Bunce was there for that. She isn’t here now. I want to try again.
Simon
“Simon..?” his voice calls from the other end of the sofa.
“Baz.” I wince at my own reply. Why can’t I just be fucking normal? Why can’t I do this right?
“Can we.. talk?” There’s hesitation in his voice.
This is it, I think, he’s leaving you. He’s sick of your bullshit, he’s basically dating a rock. Hell, a boulder would be better than you and your sad little pity party you can’t snap out of.
“Sure.”
There’s a pause. I can hear my heartbeat. Another reminder that I’m alive; should be comforting.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it but-”
“Fucks sake, Baz, just drop it. I’ve already told you that I don’t want to-”
“Simon,” he pleads and grabs my knee. I’ve apparently sat up, ready to B-line for the bedroom. I don’t remember doing that. “Please can we just… just talk about it?”
“No, I’ve told you my stance already and I don’t fucking want to.” I glare at him and shove his hand away. Once I’m standing, I already feel dizzy. I hate it. I hate not even being able to stand without feeling like I may faint.
“You need it-”
“You don’t know what I fucking need!” I shout. I’m facing him now. I see the way he flinches slightly. It makes me angry. It’s not like I can go off anymore. He’s a vampire, he’s strong, he can take me easily. Cowering is pointless and I fucking hate it.
“You don’t know what I need and I’m sick of you pretending like you do. You don’t know everything, Baz. Newsflash, you aren’t some all knowing being who can fix me with a snap of your stupid fucking fingers. You can’t fix me. Get that through your fucking head.” I glare at him. I don’t want to, but I do.
Communication is better than fighting. Those words ring in my ears.
“I don’t want to fix you, Simon, I want to help you.” He looks wounded. I can’t imagine why.
“Oh bullshit. I can see it. I know you wanted this fairytale happy ending, and I’m sorry I can’t give it to you, but I didn’t ask to be picked. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
He frowns. That’s all he does. He fucking frowns and I can see it in his eyes he wants to speak.
“Come on, say something. Tell me your pretty lies about how you don’t regret the decision you made. How you’re just here to help me or some other shit because you think it's what I want to hear.”
Baz
My heart is in shards in my chest. I can feel them stabbing me. I think one of my lungs has collapsed.
“Fucking say something, Pitch!” he screams.
“What do you want me to say?” I mumble. I’m defeated. I don’t know what he wants or what he needs apparently. Every answer is the wrong one.
He freezes at that.
I wish time stayed frozen.
“That’s it? After everything I said, that’s what you give me?” his hands tangle into his hair and he tugs before speaking again. “The truth, Baz. I don’t want you to tell me what I want to hear. I want the truth.”
“You don’t believe my truth.” I counter. Wrong answer.
His eyes turn mean. Downright murderous. “Fuck. You.” he spits and storms off for the kitchen.
“Simon-”
“Stop! Fucking stop! I can’t stand this anymore. You think you know everything , but you don’t. You don’t know how to fix me, you don’t know how to shut up , you don’t know how to- how to..” he stutters for a moment, searching for more words.
“Then I’ll leave.”
“Good! Fucking go!”
Right.
I swallow and drop my head. My hands twiddle in my lap as I stare at them and I can still feel Simon’s gaze on me. He hasn’t moved a muscle. The room is silent save for his labored breathing and the television which has long since been forgotten.
When I look up again, I can feel the tears slide down my cheeks.
Simon
Fuck. Okay, fuck .
“I.. fuck .” It’s like that’s all I can say.
I can’t believe I…
I really just…
“Baz-” I reach for him and he stands up.
I think he’s coming to me. He’s looking at me and I have a single hand raised. I can picture him walking towards me and grabbing me and I think I could finally handle that. Handle him.
I think I need him to do that.
But, he doesn’t.
He walks toward me, yes, and then past me.
My entire world crumbles around me and for once, the noise in my head stops. I’m completely and utterly numb. Frozen. I think I may have stopped breathing.
Until I hear something hit the bed in my room. The wardrobe door opens.
No, fuck, please no.
I turn on my heels and walk to my room. It feels like being walked up to the gallows, like watching a noose sway in the wind.
Seeing him pack his bag is comparable.
“What are.. what’re you doing?” I don’t recognize my voice.
“Leaving.” Scratch that, I don’t recognize his .
I need to stop him.
“Baz wait. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want you to-”
“No.” he snaps.
I shut my mouth shut.
“Nothing else to say, then?”
“Baz..”
“That’s my name.”
“Please. I didn’t mean it, I don’t want-”
“Don’t want me to leave?”
I nod.
“You can’t do this, Simon. You can’t treat people like this and then feel bad about yourself later. You don’t get to play this game anymore because I can’t take it anymore.”
“Baz, no. We can talk, I’ll talk, I’ll do whatever you need me to-”
“Until this happens again, right? Until you decide you’re done trying because you know I’m there to pick up the pieces?” He cocks an eyebrow at me.
Fuck, how long have I been doing this?
“You don’t get to do this anymore, Simon. I can’t make you better, I know that. I can hold your hand and guide you to help but I can’t make you take it. And this-” he motions around us vaguely, “-this is the last straw. You told me to go, so I’m leaving.”
I think I’m crying. I can’t tell, I can’t feel my body anymore. I’m watching him pack his bag from the other side of the room.
And it’s because I told him to leave. Because I told him to go.
He’s only doing what you asked. You can’t seriously have expected him to want to stay with you after that. You gave him the final push he needed to leave you.
He scoffs and brushes past me into the bathroom. I reach out to grab his wrist, but he’s gone.
“Ba-az,” my voice breaks and I sniffle. He doesn’t address me.
When he walks by me again I reach out to stop him. As soon as my fingers close around his arm, he pushes me off of him.
“Don’t touch me, Snow.” His voice breaks too. He’s crying. I made him cry.
I watch him slam the suitcase shut and lock it. At least a year's worth of clothing and memories and something so entirely him sealed away somewhere I’ll never get them back. He yanks the suitcase off the bed and storms to the front door before pausing.
He grabs his keyring and stares at it a moment. He turns to look at me. It feels like a chance, but he can’t tell I’m frozen in place.
I let myself cry. I let him see the vulnerability.
He takes a key off the ring and drops it in a bowl by the front door.
“Stay, Baz. Please. I’m sorry,” I stutter and my voice is broken and he looks pained .
But he just shakes his head and walks out. The door slams behind him.
I hit the floor.
Penny
Simon’s in his bed when I get home. He’s sobbing into a pillow, which is the most emotion he’s shown in weeks, but something feels off.
“Simon..?”
“He’s gone, Pen!” he scream-sobs into his pillow.
“What do you-”
“He left. I pushed him away. He’s fucking gone ,” he wraps his arms around the pillow tighter as my stomach lurches.
“Oh Simon…”
Simon
The pillow smells like him. The bed is so empty and I think for the first time, I’m cold.