Chapter Text
BEFORE
The pull in Simon's stomach dragged him towards a boy an inch taller than him, with a stupid haircut not made any better by the insane amount of gel he had plopped on it.
The rest of the boy looked equally stupid. He was already wearing his uniform—white shirt freshly ironed and tucked inside a pair of dark grey trousers, striped blazer in multiple shades of purple and green, red tie with a perfect Windsor knot, and that ridiculous boater which was only the legacy of antiquated teaching methods. Not even Simon, who was, to his dismay, the headmaster's son, and had had early access to such an amazing example of excellent educational choices, had been dumb enough to wear that devilish concoction of bad decisions one minute earlier than it was strictly necessary. So anyone who would show up in that attire placed themselves way beyond Simon's ability to emphasise with them.
And it wasn't just the uniform—the boy had his arms crossed against his chest, and was staring down at Simon with a sneer that made him look like he was in serious need of taking a shit. He was probably trying to look threatening, but Simon was just genuinely worried that he'd have to share a room with someone who suffered from an IBS.
Simon sighed. His father had warned him that some people would be prejudiced against him just because they didn't like his family, and Simon had made peace with it. You can't like everybody. Yes, it was a little disappointing that his own roommate happened to fall in said category of hostile people, but it wasn't such a big deal. They didn't have to be anything more than civil to each other, they didn't even need to actually pay attention to the other's existence after that one handshake.
So Simon outstretched his hand and smiled at the boy. “I'm Simon,” he said, though at that point he was sure the boy already knew. “Could you please shake my hand? I want to go back to my friends.” He gestured to somewhere behind his shoulders, where he hoped Penny and Agatha were waiting for him.
The boy scrunched his nose and gingerly extended his own hand. “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch,” he muttered, trying to give a superior edge to his voice that made him sound like he was going to faint.
There, at least, was Simon's answer. Of course his roommate was a Grimm-Pitch. His father had told him all about them, his disapproving tone promptly reprimanded by Grandma Ruth, who was close friends with Mrs Grimm-Pitch, the former headmistress.
Don't listen to your dad, Simon. The Grimm-Pitches are lovely people, maybe too attached to the old ways, but there's no need to make it look like we're at war, she said every other week during Sunday lunch.
Grandma Ruth didn't like the way Simon's dad had of describing the people he didn't like. She said it was hyperbolic and overdramatic. Simon didn't mind.
“I didn't know we were using full names,” Simon said as he shook the boy's hand. It was cold, his grip steady and strong. “I'm Simon Snow Salisbury-Cadwallader. Pleased to meet you.”
The boy—Tyrannus—just nodded, and pulled his hand away. He crossed his arms again, and Simon shrugged. Clearly, Tyrannus had listened to what his family had said about Simon's family with more diligence than Simon had. It was fine—Tyrannus simply didn't like him very much. It was a new experience for Simon—he knew he was funny, and more or less polite, and people usually took a liking to him right away, or at least pretended to do so as long as they were in his presence—but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.
It had been bound to happen—as his mother liked to repeat, you should always be kind and respectful, but you can’t force your friendship on people, and you’re not expected to like everyone. Boundaries are great, and so is not wasting your energy on who doesn’t want it.
Maybe Simon and Tyrannus could still learn to become friends, or maybe not—Simon had other friends, and he was sure Tyrannus did too, and one cannot have too many friends anyway.
So he smiled and turned to find Penny and Agatha somewhere in the crowd of parents and eleven-year-old kids in t-shirts and shorts. (Not a uniform in sight.) He looked back at Tyrannus one more time. “See you in our room,” he said.
Then he spotted Agatha clinging to Penny's arm, and he ran towards them, Tyrannus's hostility an already forgotten thought at the very back of his mind.