Work Text:
SIMON
I can feel my phone buzz against my leg in the middle of lunch. I know I shouldn’t check it, Penny’s in the middle of a rant about magical ethics or something, and it would be rude of me to look like I’m not paying attention. (To be fair, I’m not paying attention, because she lost me about five minutes ago, but she doesn’t have to know that.)
But I know what the notification will be when I check it, and I really want to check it. I’ve been checking my phone all morning looking for this notification.
Surely Penny won’t mind if I just…take a peek.
I pick up my (contraband) phone and the screen lights up, letting me see the notification on top.
TUMBLR
crashingintothesun liked your post
I smile at the screen. Finally . I’ve been waiting all morning for him to like this post. I made it specifically for him to see. I glance back up at Penny and nod briefly, so she thinks I’m still listening, and I click on the notification, bringing up my post.
sword-in-the-scone
love having internet friends, it’s like yes i know ur favorite color. yes i would die for u. no i dont know what u look like
I made the post about him. Tumblr user crashingintothesun (or as I call him, Ty) and I met online through a reblog chain that I can’t even remember. (I feel like I should be able to remember. It seems important, but I don’t.)
He’s an aesthetic blog, which I would make fun of, but it’s actually really good. Like, really good. I love seeing his posts on my feed, they look cool, but I don’t spend much time on his actual blog, since scrolling through the images on his blog makes me feel a bit like I’m drowning. I don’t know how he does it. It’s rather impressive, to be honest. But I don’t go on his blog much.
Another notification pops up on my screen a moment later.
TUMBLR
crashingintothesun sent you a message
I click on the notification to open the message.
sword-in-the-scone + crashingintothesun
Today at 12:52 PM
crashingintothesun
If you wanted to know what I look like so badly, you could’ve just asked.
I stare at the message for a moment, then quickly type a response.
sword-in-the-scone
i have asked, u keep saying no
crashingintothesun
I didn’t say I’d show you. I said you could ask.
sword-in-the-scone
well then am i allowed to know what you look like
crashingintothesun
No. But it never hurts to ask xx
sword-in-the-scone
ur an idiot
crashingintothesun
You wound me, Snow.
He calls me Snow. Everyone online calls me Snow, actually, since Penny’s lecture about internet safety. Since she won’t let me call myself Simon, it was the next best option.
I’m about to respond to Ty, but then–
“Simon! Are you even listening to me?”
I look up and meet Penny’s cold glare. I don’t think I can talk myself out of this.
“I was, but then I got a message–”
“From Ty?” she asks. She knows about Ty, but she’s not on tumblr, and anyway, he’s my friend, not hers. “Am I losing you to him?”
“No, he just said something about my post from this morning,” I explain.
“What’s the post?” she asks. I pull up the post on my phone and show it to her.
She takes a long moment to look at it, longer than it would take her to read. She could’ve read it at least four times by the time she looks up and hands the phone back to me.
“What did he say about it?”
“Just the bit that we have, about me not knowing what he looks like.”
“Right,” she says. “You’ve been talking to Ty a lot recently.”
I smirk. “What, are you jealous?”
Penny rolls her eyes and throws a chip at me. “Not what I meant.”
“Why’s it such a problem that I’m talking to Ty, then?” I respond lightheartedly.
“It’s not, it’s just…” She clenches her jaw, just for a moment. “This better not be a distraction from your breakup.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not like I could forget. And he doesn’t even know about that.”
“You didn’t tell him?” She furrows her brow. “Haven’t you known each other for, like, three years?”
“Well, yeah, but he doesn’t need to know everything about my personal life. Stranger danger, remember? You told me that.”
“You can hardly call Ty a stranger.”
“I’ve never met him,” I point out. “I don’t even know what he looks like. He could be anyone. He could be Baz .”
She laughs, and I laugh with her. It really is a ridiculous idea. Ty’s funny, and considerate, and most importantly he’s nice to me. I don’t think Baz knows how to be nice to anyone.
If I’m honest, I don’t know how anyone can stand to be around him. He’s such a tosser, I can’t even stand to be around him.
Penny would laugh if I said that out loud. Which is fair. I am around him a lot for someone that finds him unbearable. But someone has to keep an eye on him, because I know the minute I let him out of my sight he’s going to…
Kill someone. Or something. I don’t know. But he’s a bloody vampire (no pun intended), and I don’t trust him not to jump me if I let my guard down. And no one else seems to believe me about him, so I guess the job falls to me. Chosen one duties, and all that.
I end up back in our room after class. Baz has football today, so he’ll be out for a bit longer. I have a Magic Words assignment that I really should finish, but I’ve been in classes all day, and I know that I’ll work better if I take a break first.
I pretend that’s not just an excuse to go back on Tumblr, and I continue pretending as I sit on my bed and pull my phone out, opening the app and switching over to “For you.” It’s pretty mixed right now, a combination of shitposts (not out of the ordinary for my dash) and aesthetic posts (which would be Ty’s doing, since he’s really the only friend I have on here). There’s a few posts I’ve seen before, and I reblog a few of the dumber posts I see. (For brand consistency.) (I’m pretending a lot today.)
Eventually, a mere twenty minutes into my scrolling, one post catches my eye.
tax-freud
i can be ur dangle,,,,,, or ur angle ;)))))))
It’s stupid. It’s plebeian. It’s one of the least sophisticated things I’ve seen on this hellsite all day.
I send it to Ty. He’s going to hate it.
I wait a few minutes, and he doesn’t respond. I try to go back to scrolling. He’s probably just busy. Probably has some after-school activity or something that he does.
I wonder if he plays football. I try to picture it, but I don’t have anything to picture, so the image in my mind is just a blur. But I know enough to fill in the gaps, I know it’s all strength and grace from watching Baz’s practices. (I should be out there today, but I didn’t feel like it.) I wonder if he’s as good as Baz. (As if anyone’s as good as Baz.) (At football, I mean.)
I try to keep scrolling, but eventually the posts start repeating, and I put my phone away and walk over to the window. I can see the pitch well enough from here, and I can see that the team is playing a scrimmage. They must be almost done with practice.
Even from here, I can pick out Baz. He’s the tallest on the team, and he’s the only one with his hair up in a bun. He moves ruthlessly across the pitch, like he’s showing off. (Everything he does is showing off.) I watch him as he fakes out the defense and puts the ball in the top corner of the goal, where the other team’s goalie can’t even dream of stopping it. It’s no wonder he’s captain of the team. (Tosser.)
As the ball hits the back of the goal, Coach Mac blows his whistle, ending the practice. Baz smirks. I watch him as he heads toward the sideline to pick up his things, wiping his face with the bottom of his jersey. His back is to me, but I feel my stomach tighten. He’s such a bloody dickhead. He knows , fucking everyone knows that he’s the best at everything he does. If it weren’t for the fact that he hates me (and the vampire thing), he’d be bloody perfect. Bloody perfect. But he’s flaunting . Everything he does gets everyone to look at him. It drives me fucking mental.
I walk away from the window when he starts walking back to the locker room. I think about picking up my phone again, but if Ty’s not even responding, it’s not worth it.
I may as well work on the Magic Words assignment.
I pull the paper out of my bag and stare at it. It may as well be in Greek, for all I understand it. I think I was there for this lesson, though I’m not sure. I can ask Penny later, if I need to, but she’ll ask what I’ve already tried, so I have to at least try something.
I’m futilely flipping through my notes when my phone buzzes again.
TUMBLR
crashingintothesun sent you a message
sword-in-the-scone + crashingintothesun
Today at 5:12 PM
crashingintothesun
You’re an idiot.
sword-in-the-scone
saw it and thought of u lmao
crashingintothesun
I don’t know whether I should be offended by that.
sword-in-the-scone
aw come on
am i ur dangle or ur angle
crashingintothesun
I’m blushing at your implications, Snow.
sword-in-the-scone
what implications
oh
OH
OH NO
crashingintothesun
Hopeless fool, you are.
sword-in-the-scone
THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT AT ALL
crashingintothesun
I’m sure it isn’t. Always lovely to speak to you, Snow.
sword-in-the-scone
tosser
what were u even doing for the last hour and a half
crashingintothesun
I had football practice.
sword-in-the-scone
HA i knew it
crashingintothesun
What?
sword-in-the-scone
nothing. nvm. long story
crashingintothesun
Right. Well, I have to head home. I’ll talk to you soon.
sword-in-the-scone
bye
Lucky guess with the football thing, then. I’m a little surprised that I was right about that.
I hear footsteps outside the room and shove my phone in my desk drawer just as Baz walks in.
I straighten up a little bit as Baz walks into the room, and I hope he’ll believe I was working on the assignment. (In my defense, I was, before I got distracted.)
Baz takes one look at me and scoffs. “You don’t have to hide your phone, Snow. We all have one.”
My eyes widen just for a moment, and I hope it’s not enough to betray me. If he notices, he doesn’t let on.
He silently moves across the room toward his own desk, and he sets his own bag on top of it, reaching into a small pocket at the front and pulling something out of it.
He turns around and shakes the thing–his phone, apparently–at me before setting it back on the desk and moving his bag to the floor beside his chair.
He silently sits down at his desk and pulls a notebook out of his bag. It’s…weird. We never do homework in the same room. We’ve never been able to occupy the same space without fighting for long enough. I guess he’s in a good mood today.
I’m not usually the kind of person to look a gift horse in the mouth, but something about this whole situation seems…off.
I turn around in my chair. Baz is just…sitting there. Doing homework. I don’t even think he has anything else to finish for this week, so he’s either already doing next week’s homework, or he made more work for himself. I can just barely see some of his hair falling over his eyes. Why doesn’t he tie it back?
He looks…human, like this. Which is stupid, because of course he looks human. Or…something close to it, at least. But he doesn’t look like a villain. Have I ever seen Baz this focused before? Does he always look like this? I mean, Crowley, if this is what Agatha sees, then I almost can’t blame her for being so fixated on him.
I feel the knot in my stomach coming back. If Baz can feel my eyes on the back of his head, he doesn’t give any indication.
I think I can just let this happen.
We sit in silence like that for a couple hours. Eventually, Baz leaves wordlessly, and I go to dinner a few minutes later, ignoring that the knot in my stomach won’t bloody go away.
BAZ
I don’t often end up at the catacombs this early in the evening, but today has been trying my patience, and I needed to get away from Snow. He’ll likely know I’m down here, but he hasn’t followed me here since fifth year.
He’s so stupid. That’s the worst part of all of this. He’s an idiot in shining armor, brighter than the fucking sun. I thought I would be able to handle being this close to him, even if he never knew it. I thought that, even if I could never draw this close to him as his roommate, that I would be able to handle being this close to him as his friend. His faceless friend.
It was stupid, and manipulative, and a poor decision, but by the time I realized that I should back out, it was too late. He never would’ve let me, unless he knew it was me. And I didn’t want to lose him. I couldn’t.
For the last three years, I have been one wrong move away from exposing myself as Ty, Snow’s friend online. I thought he would be a different person, but he wasn’t; he was just as noble and bright to me as his online friend as he is to his actual friends.
My phone is hanging out of my hand between my knees from where I’m sat against the wall. My head has been resting against the wall behind me for too long, and it hurts. I don’t move. I don’t turn my phone on, either. I don’t know if I could handle the brightness of the screen in the absolute darkness of these godforsaken rooms. I think it would break me.
He’s just on the other side of that screen. That’s been the hardest part of it all. Most of the time, I’m able to handle keeping him at a distance like this. It–well. To be transparent, it sucks, but I’m able to handle it. But some days–like today–it hits me like a fucking tidal wave that he is there, and he is close, but he’ll never, never be close enough. I can reach all I want. He’s not fucking there.
I stare very intently at my phone just in front of me. I shouldn’t look. It won’t be worth it. It won’t be worth reaching when he’ll always be just out of my grap. I should save my dignity. I shouldn’t have even brought it with me.
I cave.
Even at the lowest brightness, the screen still blinds me when I turn it on. There aren’t any notifications on my lock screen, which isn’t terribly surprising. When I unlock it, my muscle memory takes over and I open the Tumblr app and click over to my messages.
crashingintothesun + sword-in-the-scone
Today at 7:31 PM
crashingintothesun
I do appreciate your stupid messages, Snow. I didn’t say that before.
He responds moments later. (Isn’t he at dinner with Bunce? Rude.)
sword-in-the-scone
aww thank u
im choosing to ignore that you called me stupid bc ur being so nice
crashingintothesun
I’m not calling *you* stupid. Merely your messages.
sword-in-the-scone
whats the difference
I don’t respond. Because I’m weak. Because I’m spineless. Because I can’t help being cruel to him, even through the safe barrier of this screen.
Because he is the sun, and I am crashing into him.
SIMON
Ty doesn’t respond, and I try to act like it doesn’t bother me.
I don’t even know why it does bother me. It shouldn’t, he’s his own person, he’s probably just busy.
I put my phone away and turn back to Penny sitting across the table from me. She isn’t talking.
“Pen?”
She stares. “Ty again?”
I glance down at the table. “Not right now.”
“But it was ?”
I sigh. “Yeah. It was. But he stopped responding.”
She looks at me weird. “He did?”
“He’s probably just busy.”
“Right,” she says. “And does that bother you?”
What? Now I look at her weird. “Why do you ask?’
“No reason.” She continues eating, probably trying to drop the subject.
I don’t let her. “No, what?”
“It’s just,” she starts, “you seem really happy when you’re talking to him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re happy, I just wonder why.”
What is she saying? “Why talking to him makes me happy?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s my friend.”
Penny looks like she’s studying me. “So am I.”
“What?”
“You don’t fluster like that when you’re talking to me.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Fluster? Do I fluster when I’m talking to Ty?
I guess I never noticed it before, but I guess it makes sense. I can’t seem to stay away from him, even when I’m with Penny, and I do feel different talking to Ty than I do with Penny. I don’t know what any of that means, though.
“I can practically hear your thoughts, Simon. You okay?”
“I-” Am I? “I guess, I just don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”
She only pauses a moment.
“You’ve only flustered like that when you were talking to Agatha in fifth year.”
What?
What?
…
…oh.
… oh.
Oh, fuck.
BAZ
I can’t take it anymore. I have to tell him.
I’ll tell him, and he’ll run me through with his sword, and then it’ll all be over.
It’ll be better than having to cope with this for the rest of the year. My resolve already cracks more and more with every message he sends me. It’s in shambles at this point.
Maybe I was always going to give in.
It was always only one message away. I’m just finally biting the bullet.
I’ve made my way back to our room. I’ll tell him when he gets back from dinner.
In the meantime, I shower (the catacombs never get any less dingy) and try to avoid pacing around our room. I’m above that. (I’m not. But I’ll pretend I am.)
The silence of the room is driving me up the wall. I can’t do this. Why did I think this was a good idea? Merlin, I’m an idiot, I’m dumber than I thought I was, dumber than Snow , I can’t fucking do this. This was a bad plan.
The door opens.
Fuck it.
“Snow-”
I pause.
He’s…crying. He’s crying?
“Fuck off,” he throws at me.
“Wait.” I might be bluescreening. This night could not possibly be weirder. “What happened?”
He throws himself onto his bed.
“Fuck off,” he repeats.
I don’t know how to handle this. “Are you…okay?”
He scoffs. “Obviously not.”
…okay. “What’s wrong?”
He glances back at me, and the look he gives me could have killed me where I stood. “Don’t pretend you care.”
He’s right to say it. It shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t be driving a knife into my heart like it is right now. I’m terrible to him; as far as he knows, I don’t care.
But I decided.
Merlin, this couldn’t be worse timing.
“Actually, Snow, I, uh–” Merlin. “I need to tell you something.”
I never stutter. He knows that. I can tell he knows that because of the confused look he gives me.
“I don’t fucking care.”
Fuck. I sigh. “Simon,” I start. “Please.”
SIMON
Is he about to do it? Is he about to admit that he’s a vampire?
I sit up and look directly at him. This feels important. Important enough to ignore my personal crisis for five minutes, at least. I’ll go back to wallowing when he’s done.
Whatever it is he’s about to say, he’s really struggling to say it. He’s started three different sentences, and he’s abandoned all of them. That’s definitely not like him.
Finally, he starts talking. “I…haven’t been completely honest with you. And I’m sorry.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t want to ruin whatever he has to say.
“I’m–” He pauses for a long moment. “I’m crashingintothesun. I’m Ty.”
…
… What?
“What?”
“Simon, I’m so sorry, it got completely out of hand, I never meant for it to go this far. I know you hate me, but–”
“ You’re Ty? This whole time?”
“Simon, I’m so damn sorry.”
BAZ
He just stares at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I can’t bloody read his expression, and he’s usually an open book.
“Why?” he asks in a small voice.
“What?”
“Why would you do that to me?” I think he might start crying again. I deserve that.
I can’t lie to him anymore. “I’m tired of hating you,” I explain. “This way, I didn’t have to hate you.”
He shakes his head. “I like Ty.” He doesn’t look like he’s done talking, so I don’t say anything. “I really like Ty.”
Merlin, when he puts it like that, it almost sounds like…
No. I can’t think like that.
“I’m sorry.” I think I’m losing count of how many times I’ve said that.
“Fuck, Baz.” His voice is raising. He’s getting angry. Good. Hit me, Snow. Put me out of my misery. “Fuck you.”
Before I can register what he’s doing, he’s crossing the room to get to me and slamming me against the wall next to my desk.
“Fuck you.”
He’s seething. “I know, I know, I deserve that.” He’s so close. He’s so close. I think my brain is shutting down.
I can’t look anywhere but into his eyes. He’s scanning my face. I don’t know what he’s looking for; I’m fairly sure I just look terrified. Or nervous. Or something along those lines, fuck if I know.
I clock the moment he finds whatever it is he’s looking for, and his expression shifts.
“Simon–” I start, but I can’t get the rest of my sentence out as Simon presses his mouth against mine.
I freeze, which admittedly, is not the reaction I would’ve wanted to have when Simon Snow kissed me.
Fuck, Simon Snow is kissing me .
SIMON
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Honestly, I don’t think he knows what he’s doing. He’s…clumsy. But he hasn’t pushed me away.
Everything slotted into place when Baz told me he was Ty. I’m obsessed with Baz. I fluster around Ty. After learning that I was into Ty, and learning that Baz was Ty…
It all made sense.
I don’t know what’s going to happen when we pull away, but I don’t think that matters right now, because I’m kissing Baz Pitch . And he’s kissing me back.
I think everything in our lives might’ve led us to this moment. Maybe that’s sappy. I don’t particularly care.
He pulls away first. I don’t know if he’s speaking or just breathing when I hear, “Snow…”
I press my forehead to his. I might be panting. “You called me Simon before.”
“Did I?”
I nod, and it’s awkward with our faces so close together, but I think he gets the idea.
“I’m sorry, Simon.”
I pull back just enough to look at him properly. His hair is in his eyes again. I brush it behind his ear, and I keep my hand there, high up on his neck. “Don’t be.”
He nods, and I know we both understand.
BAZ
Simon has one hand on my neck and the other on my waist, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good.
I realize that my hands are still hanging at my sides. (Fuck. That’s really awkward of me, isn’t it?) I slide my hands up his chest and wrap my arms around his neck. We’re so close that it’s a little crowded, but I don’t think either of us care.
He’s finally close enough. I can reach him. I can reach out and touch him, and he’s solid, he’s real, and he’s not going anywhere.
Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.