Chapter Text
Saturday 25th November
SIMON
Baz is not a fan of the cold.
He likes to pretend that he can’t feel it, that he’s too emo for all that shit, but I see it in the way he burrows further and further into the duvet each morning, in the way he cradles his mug of tea in his hands like a lifeline when he gets back from a lecture.
Maybe that’s all part of his act too, though. Baz is exactly the kind of person I’d expect to hate the cold (he did always want the window closed), and maybe he just runs with that. None of it really bothers me, and honestly I find the whole thing kind of funny. (Is that weird?)
And so, of course, Baz is grumbling as we make our way round Hyde Park, the light of the fading sun lighting our way. The remnants of rotten leaves line our path and I can see my breath when I breathe out. It makes me feel even more like a dragon, and I think it’s pissing Baz off.
His gloved fingers are wrapped tightly around mine (woollen this time- different to his hunting gloves, though still probably worth half my inheritance), and his scarf is secure around his neck. The only thing missing from his attire is a hat, because he refuses to let it fuck up whatever look he’s going for.
I’m grinning as I pull him down the path, my own coat hanging open despite the late afternoon chill. It’s all the same to me- I’ve definitely been colder.
“We could’ve at least picked a less touristy park,” Baz mutters, as he lets me lead him along.
“I practically am a tourist, Baz,” I point out, gesturing with my free hand. “I’ve lived here well over a year, and I’ve barely even seen the sights!”
Baz kicks at some stray leaves with his foot, glaring at them as if they’ve gone to personal lengths to irritate him. “There’s nothing to see here anyway.” He pretends to ignore me when I scoff slightly at the magickal reference I don’t think he intended, but the corners of his lips turn down slightly in annoyance.
“It’s bloody Hyde Park, Baz!”
“I didn’t realise you were particularly enthralled by the idea of seeing the Diana memorial, Snow.”
I roll my eyes at him, but otherwise ignore his grumbling. I know he doesn’t mean any of it. I know just being here, with me, means as much to him as it does to me.
My eyes wander to the bare trees surrounding us and the skyline glowing brightly in the distance, though they’re periodically drawn back to Baz’s face, more interested in that than anything this park could have to offer me.
Maybe Baz is right about Hyde Park.
Or maybe I just overestimated how much I wanted to go out today.
I tug lightly at Baz’s hand, turning towards him. I push up on my toes slightly and bring my lips to his, warming him the best way I know how.
He melts into me instantly, his free hand gripping my neck in a way we probably shouldn’t with so many people around us.
I’m surprised by how little I give a shit.
Everything got easier with Baz, once I started giving less of a shit about the pointless things. We’re trying now. Trying to focus on the important things.
And it’s working .
We pull away after a moment, and I press my forehead to his, watching our breaths melt together in the air between us.
“Next time we’ll go to Greenwich,” he whispers, and I laugh, letting the emotion fill me up everywhere the cold has begun to seep in.
“You love it,” I say, swinging our arms together as I start pulling him along again.
“I love you ,” he points out. I grin at him again. I can’t help it.
I’m letting myself have this.
We haven’t been walking for long before I spot the throngs of people, of couples, queuing round the corner. I follow the line, my eyes finally landing on the mix of moving lights and drifting Christmas music in the distance.
I frown slightly. “Is it Christmas already?”
Baz squeezes my hand. We don’t need to say anything to know that Christmas is a difficult subject for us.
“Winter Wonderland,” he explains. “It’s just an overpriced fairground with Christmas lights. And an ice rink.”
“Have you ever been?”
He scoffs. “No. Who would I go with?”
I shrug. I’m suddenly trying very hard not to think about last Christmas.
(Piling cans of cider on the sofa, unopened Christmas cards, Baz off to Oxford, Penny desperately trying to light everything up with flashy colourful bulbs and cheap tinsel.)
Or the one before.
Baz squeezes my hand again. “Hey.” I look up at him again, all hints of his annoyed tone from before gone. “We could go?”
It’s not an order, or a suggestion. He’s checking, he’s asking. He does that a lot. It’s nice.
I manage a smile, for him. “Let’s go find one of your disgusting Starbucks drinks.”
We’re sitting on a bench, sharing Baz’s sickly sweet Starbucks order (we could’ve sat inside, but so many people crowded together was making me jumpy, and I worry about my wings popping out), when I broach the subject again.
“It feels like it’s come out of nowhere.”
“What has?” Baz looks up from the drink.
I huff slightly. “Winter.”
He shakes his head, swallowing his sip. “It’s not winter yet, Snow. It’s still autumn until the 21st December.”
I hit his arm slightly. “Don’t be a dick, you know what I mean.”
He sighs. “Yes. I know what you mean.” He hesitates, before adding, “This year will be better though, Simon. We’ll be together. I won’t let you do another Christmas alone.”
I stare at him for a moment, surprised at how much his words have unwound the tightness in my stomach that I didn’t even know was there.
“Unless you want that, of course,” he backtracks. “If you need space I’m sure we can work something out. Maybe with Bunce…”
I stop him with a light kiss, his lips tasting of marshmallow and sugar. “I like having you here.”
I know he’ll know what I mean.
He nods, pushing the drink into my hands again. “You’re too cold,” he says, in explanation.
I take a long sip, before talking again. “Baz?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He shakes his head. “You never have to thank me, Simon.”
I shrug. “Yeah. But I still do.”
He presses our foreheads together again, and for the first time, I let myself believe this winter will be different.