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What, I wonder, would I gladly give up for Baz Pitch?
The answer, as it turns out, is everything.
(***)
It leaves slowly, my everything. Baz doesn’t take it, really; I give it all willingly, without any trace of doubt or regret. I think I always knew it would come to this: Me, raw and open and so vulnerable, totally at Baz’s mercy; willing to give him everything I am, and everything I was. I sort of knew when I tried to break up with him, and I certainly knew when I came back for him. I think I knew when we kissed at the back of Shep’s truck under the stars, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted to tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber. Hell, I even think I knew when I first kissed him in the forest, the world burning around us, everything so uncertain. I wasn’t even sure I could trust him back then, and despite that, I would’ve done anything in my power to save his life.
I would've done everything in my power to keep kissing him.
(***)
The first thing I give up is my shame. There’s a lot of shame that comes with being a failed chosen one. With not having magic anymore. The shame of having tried with everything I got, with every fiber of my being; and still have come out of it scratched and torn apart and broken. So fucking broken.
Also shame of asking for help. Of going back to therapy. Of reconnecting with my family, now that they found me…
But Baz has taken my shame. “You’re not a failure, Simon. You’re not broken, or a disappointment. You’re just someone who’s gone through a lot of trauma and needs to recover,” he's told me over and over again, until I've started to believe him.
There’s no shame in needing help. There’s no shame in being traumatized, and needing therapy. It’s taken me long enough to accept it, but I think I’ve gotten there.
The first step was seeing my therapist again. I’ve been consistently going for a couple of months now, and it’s definitely helping. Baz should also go; but that’s a battle I still need to win. Merlin knows he needs it too.
I also started visiting the Salisburies regularly. I always go with Baz, because I’m still not comfortable enough going alone, but I’m getting there. I like them, I really do. And they seem to genuinely like me too. (And Baz. They absolutely adore Baz, because of course they do.) We still don’t talk about The Mage being my father (I’m so not ready for that yet), but we’ve been talking about Lucy a lot recently. Lady Salisbury has shown me a lot of pictures of her, and Jamie has told me so many anecdotes and stories in so much detail, that I almost feel like I was there too, with her. I’m so glad I’m getting to know my mum, even if it’s just through someone else’s eyes and experiences.
I referred to Lady Salisbury as my grandma the other day, which surprised me as much as it did everyone else. We were visiting, and I was talking to Baz about how good Ruth’s cooking was, and I said: “I’m glad the universe gave me a grandma who feeds me an indecent amount of food. To compensate for everything else, I mean.”
She heard me. She cried, I cried. It was a whole ordeal.
And I didn’t feel ashamed about it.
(***)
The second thing to go is my clothes. Not in a literal sense - I haven’t been going around naked, I swear. I just mean I let Baz pick what I’m gonna wear most days.
I told him no flowers, and he respected it. Other than that, he does everything he wants with me. He still puts me in his clothes sometimes (I always wear his old football shirt at home. He loves it on me, for some reason), but mostly is clothes that he’s bought specially for me. Because he wanted to see me wearing them.
I don’t mind, really. I’ve never cared that much about clothes, and it seems to make Baz happy. And it’s not like he has bad taste. He’s probably doing a better job at picking out my outfits than I could ever have. It’s a win-win situation, really.
“Are you letting me dress you up everyday like some doll just to humor me, Snow?” he asks one day, as I’m putting on a blue jumper he had recently bought me. (“It makes the blue of your eyes pop, love” he said the first time I tried it on. We both pretended that didn't make me blush.) That infernal brow of his is lifted, and he is smirking like an actual demon.
Yes. I’ll do anything for you. Anything at all, my love. Just say the word and it’s done. “No,” I reply, way too fond and infatuated and in love to sound convincing at all. “It’s just nice not to have to make that choice.”
He smirks at me, and he’s full of trouble.
He doesn’t believe a word I said.
(***)
The next thing to go, I think, is my pain. Not all of it, obviously; not even Baz Pitch is enough to soak it all away. I think I found some sort of fucked up comfort in my pain; as if it was easier to keep it bottled inside of me, rather than take it all out, and face it. I’ve always been a man of action, and if there’s something I’ve learned over the years, it’s to fight and fight and keep fighting until there are no monsters left. But, Crowley, wasn’t I scared of confronting my own demons.
But Baz helps me let my pain go, by kissing me and listening to me and sleeping next to me. By being there everyday, every time I need him.
“I’m in love with you,” Baz whispers to me one night, my head on his chest, his fingers tangled in my curls. He probably thought I was already asleep - even though we’ve been saying that to each other a lot more often recently. Everything inside me still melts every time I hear him say it. “I love you so much; I love you for all that you are.”
And what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say to that? What do I even - what am I supposed to even think?
He’s the love of my life; of all my lifes. And him loving me makes me happier than I’ve ever thought possible. And I know love doesn’t always do the trick; I still have my bad days, times where I feel hopeless, moments when my pain seems to be consuming me, tainting me. But Baz is always there through it all, loving me, supporting me, and that’s enough to make me wanna at least try. (Try to let him take my pain away. Try to let him love me, freely and loudly and sincerely. Try to love myself, even if that’s proven to be the most difficult thing for me.)
“I love you too,” I say, finally. “I’m in love with you, Baz. I wish I’d figured it out sooner.”
(***)
The last thing to go is my low self-esteem. And for that, my wings and my tail needed to stay.
This wasn’t an easy decision to make. They’re still annoying most of the time; more so now that magic doesn’t work on me. But they’re a part of me. “They’re like any other part of your body, Simon,” it’s what Baz always says. And that’s a fact it’s taken some time for me to accept. Losing them would be like losing an arm, or a leg. I gave them to myself in a desperate time, and they came to me when I most needed them. And for that, I will always be grateful.
I think the main reason I was so adamant on getting rid of them is because I thought I was destined to live a Normal life. I thought I was a fraud, and that I was never supposed to have magic in the first place; so that meant I didn’t deserve to have any connections to the World of Mages. And having dragon parts attached to my body was a constant reminder of what I was, and what I could never be again.
But I was never meant to be a Normal; now I know that. And even if I’ve lost it forever, I was meant to have magic. And, in some way, I think I was also meant to have dragon parts. I think there’s a reason they didn’t fade away with time; a reason why they stayed even if my magic didn’t. They’re an intrinsicate part of me now, and I need to learn how to love them, if I want to love myself.
I cry the day I tell Niamh I’m not gonna come back for the surgery. She calls me to ask if I’m ready to make another appointment, and I tell her I can’t do it - not now, not ever.
“Are you sure?” she asks, concerned. I don’t think she’s understanding my reasoning at all.
“Yes,” I say. “They’re… they’re all I have left of my magic, Niamh. I can’t just get rid of them.”
I also cry the day I tell Baz I’ve decided to keep them. But that might be for other reasons all together, if we’re being honest.
He’s driven me to the countryside so I could stretch my wings, and fly for a bit. And it feels so good, so freeing; I can’t fathom the idea of not being able to do it again. This feeling of being on top of the world. As if nothing really matters up here. The sky’s the limit. There’s no feeling like this.
When I get back down, I sit next to Baz on the ground. He places his head on my shoulder, and I wrap a wing around him. I like that. I like having extra extremities to hold him.
“I’ve decided I’m gonna keep them for good,” I say, unannounced. “My wings and tail, I mean.”
He looks up at me, and smiles. He simply says: “That’s great, love.”
“Really?” I ask. “You really don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” he says, frowning a little. I kiss him right there. “I love them, as I love any part of you. They’re a part of what makes you Simon. What’s there not to love?”
What’s there not to love, Baz says; and it feels like a monumental moment for me. I literally feel how all my insecurities leave my body, suddenly, and in one go. Baz loves them. And Baz loves me. And he doesn’t love me despite of them; he loves them because they’re me. They’re magic, and they’re me, and if Baz loves them, loves me, why wouldn’t I?
“I love you,” I say, and it’s the truest thing that will ever come out of my mouth. I’ll never love anyone like I love Baz; and I would never want to anyway. I wanna tell him, how fucking important he is for me, how much him loving me means to me. But I’ve never been good with words. I could never, in a million years, know how to articulate everything I feel for this man in front of me. But I try, anyway, and the only thing I can think that could closely match my sentiment is: “Marry me.”
He untangles himself from me then, so he can properly look at me. His eyes look so wide; he looks like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s heard. “What?”
“Marry me,” I say again. This is not how I thought I would propose to him, but there’s no way I’m backing down now. “I love you; you’re it for me. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. And any possible other life we might get after this, I wanna spend them all with you too. Marry me, Baz. Babe. Please.”
He starts crying then, and consequently, I start crying too. He practically jumps into my lap, hugging me, kissing me. I hug and kiss him back. I envelop him with my wings, and I swear this is the happiest and safest I’ve ever felt in my life.
“You haven’t said yes,” I point out, whispering against his mouth.
He laughs, probably the most beautiful sound in the world. “Yes. Of course I’ll marry you. I’d marry you right now, if you wanted.”
I laugh too, a little hysterical. Crowley, I’m so happy. “I’m sorry I didn’t buy you a ring. I will, I promise.”
“It’s fine,” he says, as I wipe the tears on his cheeks with my hand. He does the same for me. “That way we can go together, and we can buy each other a ring,” he says, and then he adds, as if he’s had an epiphany: “Matching rings. I want fucking matching rings. And I want to pick them myself and I want you to be alright with whatever I choose.”
I roll my eyes, fondly. Of course he wants to choose both his ring and mine. It’s okay, though. He can choose the bloody rings if he wants. As long as he keeps choosing me, I’ll be fine with anything.
“That we’ll do, darling,” I say, and I kiss him again. And he kisses me back. And we stay there, kissing for a long time.
My fiancé. I’m kissing my fiancé. Crowley, that’s - that’s crazy.
I thought I would never feel magic again. But this certainly feels close to it.