Archive of Our Own

BAZ

I walk in on Snow hunched over my desk, squinting down at my Magical History notes and becoming increasingly frustrated. I watch him frown and huff and all but growl at the stack of paper and ink for another minute—my beautiful bloody nightmare—and then I slam the door behind me.

Snow flinches and leaps away from my desk. But he knows he’s been caught.

“Didn’t you learn not to snoop through my things when we were twelve and you fell for, what? Six of my booby traps in four weeks?”

“Don’t worry, you bloody prat,” he grumbles, shuffling back over to his own desk. “I can’t read your ridiculous posh cursive shit anyway.” 

“It’s not—” I almost frown. I think I manage to make it appear more like a sneer. “You can’t read that?”

He curls his hands into fists at his sides. “I just said so, didn’t I?”

“It’s not cursive,” I say. And it’s not. My handwriting may be almost shamefully messy, but it’s still legible enough that I’ve never had any complaints from teachers or my useless friends who regularly steal my notes. Snow is possibly the only person whose handwriting is worse than mine—I’d expect that he of all people would be able to decipher it.

“So what!” Simon says, “I just said I didn’t read any of your evil plots or whatever you’ve been doing so you can fuck off.”

SIMON

“Fine,” Baz says. He spins around and struts back out the door, leaving me staring after him with my chest heaving and my magic simmering under my skin. I don’t think he’s ever given up so easily.

I flinch when the door swings open again and Baz stomps back in and over to his desk. He scoops up the papers I was trying to read and some of his study stuff and then stomps back out without a word. He doesn’t even look at me.

Right. That makes more sense.

BAZ

I head to the library, find myself a secluded table and sit down to stare at my history notes. All right. So. Snow can’t read my notes. My notes that I specifically left out for him to use. Is my handwriting really that bad? Or can he… not read anything? How in the everloving fuck have I not noticed this before? For fuck’s sake, I know what colour his favourite underwear is, I should know whether or not the boy can read.

I open my laptop and fall quickly down the Google rabbit hole.

For once in his life, Snow will be right the next time he accuses me of plotting.

SIMON

Baz has a new study system, apparently. And we have new décor in our room.

He’s stuck to exactly his half of the room’s walls, but he’s completely plastered them in study cards and pages of spells, translations and diagrams. He’s even stuck notes on the bathroom mirror and in the shower. He’s always moving them around and switching out older notes for whatever we’re supposed to be doing in classes each day or what we’re about to be tested on, and he’s switched out his messy cursive shit for very neatly printed letters. He’s even got notes for some of the classes that the overachieving prick doesn’t even fucking take.

And yeah, fine, I know all of this because I’ve been reading them in secret when he’s not in the room. Which—even more suspiciously, given that he’s apparently studying the walls—is more often than not these days.

It takes me longer than it should (six days and eighteen hours) to realise that I’ve been reading them. Properly, actually reading them and learning things. Shit. I have to talk to Penny.

PENELOPE

I’m going to lock Simon and Baz in a very small room, let them kiss and make up, and then murder the both of them.

SIMON

“But what if he’s messing with me?”

Penny sighs and takes another bite of her breakfast. “You said you’ve been remembering bits and pieces? Tell me something and I’ll help you find out whether or not it’s right.”

“I took pictures,” I say smugly, “for evidence!” I pull my phone out and pass it over, ignoring Penny’s overdramatic eye-roll.

“Of course you did,” she mutters, swiping through the photos. “Yeah. Of course it’s all accurate,” she says with a huff, “Prick’s not competing with me for top of the class for nothing.” She locks my phone and lays it on the table, looking like a parent about to have a difficult conversation with their disappointment of a child.

“Yeah, but—”

“Simon, I really don’t think he’d put that much effort into something you might not even read. Actually, he’s probably expecting you won’t read any of it. He knows you’re not very keen on studying.”

But he also knows that I regularly snoop on his side of the room.

I grumpily stab my fork at the eggs on my plate. I’m not sure if I should be offended by that, but I guess it’s true. Usually. But lately Baz’s weird new study habits have made it loads easier. Not that I’d ever admit that to him or Penny.

“So… you think it’s okay if I use his notes to study then?”

“If it’s working for you,” Penny says slowly, “then I don’t see why not.”

Hm. “Will you check it all for me first, though? If I send you pictures? Maybe he’s trying to lull me into a false sense of security and then he’ll start putting up fake shit to tank my grades again.”

Penny sighs again, and I really do sort of realise how I sound, but it’s too late to admit I might be overreacting.

“Fine,” she says, “But I really think Baz could come up with more nefarious plans to fuck with you if that’s what he wanted.”

“I guess,” I mumble, looking across the hall to stare at him.

Penny looks from me over to Baz and back again. “And how’s the crush going, then?”

“It’s awful,” I tell her. I swivel to face her and all but shout, “What?”

She laughs at me. Properly, fully laughs, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching at her stomach, eyes squeezed shut.

“Penny!”

“I’m sorry,” she gasps out, “I just—I wasn’t expecting—” She interrupts herself with another fit of giggles and I kick her under the table.

“How did you know?” I whisper furiously.

“I didn’t!” she says around her laughter, “I was joking! Well, you know. Mostly. You just—It makes so much sense, though.”

“Shut up,” I whine, “I hate you so much.”

“You love me,” she says dismissively. “You know it’s okay, though, right? That you like him?”

“Okay? It’s not okay. It’s Baz!”

“Can’t it be both?”

“But it’s Baz!”

I slink down into my seat as she starts giggling again. I have the worst best friend ever.

BAZ

I bribe Mordelia with pretzels and gossip for more tips for helping Simon. I haven’t told her exactly why I need her tricks for studying as someone with dyslexia and ADHD, but she really is the most intelligent and perceptive person I know so—quite unfortunately for me—I’d be surprised if she hasn’t already figured it out. She’s at least been tactful enough not to mock me for it yet.

She meets me by the football pitch after our last classes on Thursday afternoon.

“Pretzels,” she says immediately, instead of something normal—and, I don’t know, polite?—like hello.

I take a step back and raise an eyebrow. She takes two steps forward and raises her own eyebrow. We stare each other down until we both break at the same time and fall into an embarrassing fit of laughter.

“All right, all right,” she says, “Why hello, Basilton, my dear brother. It’s ever so lovely to see you. How are you this fine afternoon?”

I scoff and toss the pretzels at her. “Never do that again, yeah?”

She wrinkles her nose and says, “Hm, maybe not,” and reaches into her tote to pull out a slightly crumpled sheet of notebook paper. “You know I’d do this for free, right? If it’s helping someone with reading and shit. I don’t even care about your shady secret reasons.”

“I know,” I say, carefully smoothing out the paper and tucking it into my bag. “But this way you let me be your big brother for five minutes.”

She shoves at my shoulder and then looks around. “Did you bring a football? Can you hang out for a bit?”

“Aw, did my baby sister miss me that much?”

“Ew, Baz.”

I grin.

“But no, I, uh…” she says, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh. Sure. What is it?”

“Can we, like, run around for a bit first? I think I’m nervous.”

Fuck. This must be bigger than ‘Basil, I’ve changed my mind about the price of information and I demand more pretzels.’ Now I’m nervous too, but I can’t let her know that or she’ll get weird and guilty and decide not to tell me after all. Unfortunately for everyone—including myself—she’s a lot like me. Except she’s… better.  

“Sure,” I say. “First to five goals?”

“Make it eight.”

I don’t even have to let her win. I’m so on edge about whatever it is she wants to talk about that all my skill and muscle memory has escaped me and I trip over my own feet more than once.

Mordelia scores her eighth goal and whoops, punching the air. “Hah!” she says, “You suck, Basilton!”

I tackle her and she lands with a punched-out laugh before quickly rolling, and somehow, before I can even begin to figure out what she’s doing, I end up pinned down with her sitting on my back.

“What the fuck?” I mutter, giving up and going slack. “Have you been practising that, you sneaky bastard?”

“Yep,” she says proudly. “Completely worth all the bruises.” She digs her fingers into my sides and then flops down beside me. “Thanks, Baz.”

I gracelessly flip over onto my back and turn to look at her. “For what? Letting you win?”

She gives me a flat look. “I think we both know you didn’t let me win.”

I open and close my mouth and then smile involuntarily. Little shit.

She smirks and then looks away. “Thanks for being my big brother.”

“Hmm,” I say blandly, “Didn’t really have a choice, did I?”

“Oi!” she says, throwing a hand out to whack at my chest. “I take it back, then!”

“Too late,” I say, “Guess you’re lucky I love you too.”

“Ew, Baz,” she says quietly. “Love you back, you giant arsehole.”

She sits up and looks down at me, so I join her. I watch her take a few deep breaths and then say, “Okay. I’m ready now. Just… let me finish before you freak out or whatever, okay?”

“I… Okay.”

“I don’t wanna be your sister anymore,” she says quietly.

My whole body tenses without my permission and Mordelia quickly grabs my hands and holds them just a touch too tightly, and it saves me from spiralling just yet.

“Let me finish,” she repeats, and waits for me to nod numbly before continuing, “I don’t want to be your sister, I want to be your sibling. I’m nonbinary and—”

“Oh, thank fuck,” I say, and the breath I was holding comes out in an annoyed sigh. “I thought you were dying or disowning me or something, you absolute shithead!”

“Hey! Don’t interrupt my coming out!” Mordelia says, slugging me in the shoulder. “What kind of big brother are you?”

“Fuck, sorry,” I say, “I didn’t mean—” I shut up and take a breath and ignore Mordelia laughing at me.

“You realise I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous, right?”

“I know,” I say, because I do. “I know, and I’m sorry, really.”

“Right, so where was I?”

“You’re nonbinary,” I say.

Mordelia’s half-hearted glare turns into a giddy smile. “Yeah,” Mordelia says quietly, “I am. I, uh. I use they/them pronouns and like… gender-neutral terms? Mostly? You know what nonbinary means, right?”

“Yes. Well, I know the general sort of definition. Did you want to tell me what it means for you?”

They scrunch up their nose. “Nah. You get it,” they say. “I’m happy with my name at the moment, but yeah. They/them and like, sibling instead of sister and shit like that.”

I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say. I love them—of course I love them. They’re the best thing in my life. The most good. But we’re good at trading insults and gossip and competing over everything we can, not talking about ourselves or our personal lives.

“Are you freaking out?” they ask warily.

“No!” I say quickly, “No—well, yes, but not—”

“You suck at feelings,” they remember, shoulders slumping in relief.

I nod and mutter an apology. I’m being a shit big brother right now. I shake my head and take a breath. “I hope you know that you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met and my favourite person in the world,” I say. “Nothing could change that.”

“What if I told you I was going to run away to Iceland and adopt seven sheep and a reindeer?”

I cock my head to the side and stare at them. “Um.”

“Yes, Basil?” they ask innocently.

“I’d… support you,” I say slowly, “and make sure you had warm clothes and help you—”

Mordelia lets out a snort that turns into chuckles that turn into full-body laughter. “I’m just fucking with you,” they say, “Shit, you really do suck at feelings.”

“You’ve met our father, yes?” I deadpan, “I didn’t know what feelings were until I was fifteen.”

Mordelia pouts and I roll my eyes.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” I say, “Have you told the parents yet? Your mates?”

They clear their throat awkwardly. “Please don’t make this a big deal,” they say, “but you’re actually the first person I’ve told.”

“Fucking Merlin,” I say, “Are you trying to make me cry?”

Mordelia snorts. “Maybe a bit,” they say, and then quickly continue, “But also, no. Do not cry in front of me. You know I don’t know what to do when people cry.”

I could stop it—I’ve had more than enough practice—but I let a few tears slide down my face out of spite before I laugh and swipe at my eyes.

“I’m honoured,” I say, “And I’m really fucking proud of you.”

SIMON

Baz misses dinner and only comes back to Mummers late in the evening. He’s wearing his football gear even though I know the team doesn’t train on Thursdays, and he’s got this soft, pleased smile on his face. He ignores me as he toes his shoes off, and then he dumps his bag on the end of his bed and flops down next to it. He’s got grass in his hair.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed. He looks almost happy.

He must feel me looking at him, because he leans up on his elbows to glare at me. “What, Snow?”

“Nothing. Just—You look… What’s got you all—” I wave a hand at him.

He pauses and I think he’s about to sneer and snipe, but he must really be in a good mood because he just says, “I was with Mordelia.”

“That’s your si—?”

“Sibling,” he interrupts, and that lovely smile is back. “They’ve just told me they’re nonbinary.”

“Oh, cool,” I say. I frown. “Are you allowed to tell me that?”

Now he sneers. “I would never out someone without their permission,” he snaps. “Yes, they’ve told me I could mention it to people I know.”

“All right,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me, “Chill out, I was just making sure.”

“Oh.” He seems to realise I was only trying to make sure he was protecting Mordelia and he deflates. “Sorry,” he mutters.

My eyebrows shoot up.

“I’m a bit… protective of them,” he says.

I wonder what it’d be like to have Baz so fiercely protective of you—he’s fucking ruthless at the best of times, and I wish I knew what it felt like to have that working with me instead of against my whole existence. I stop thinking about it before I sink too deep into my feelings.

“Good,” I say quietly.

He tilts his head and narrows his eyes a bit, like he might be trying to read my mind. I squirm and turn away from him.

“I’m going to shower,” he says finally, and he rolls gracefully off his bed and slinks off the bathroom.

BAZ

That was… weird. So weird that I forgot to bring my pyjamas to the bathroom when I made my dazed escape. Fucking hell.

I get in the shower anyway and decide to deal with the consequences later.

SIMON

Baz didn’t take anything into the bathroom with him. Which means he’s only got his sweaty football kit and his towel in there. I pace the room while he showers and when I hear the water turn off, I take off down the stairs. There’s no way I’m dealing with a freshly-showered, naked Baz right now. Happy, sweaty, protective-big-brother Baz was more than enough for one day.

I head down to the common room in my socks and put the kettle on.

BAZ

I’m almost disappointed that Snow disappeared after all the time I spent trying—and failing—to ignore the fact that I was going to have to walk back into the room in just my towel.

I get dressed and unpack my bag, hiding Mordelia’s new list in a notebook and shoving it somewhere inconspicuously in plain sight. I haven’t had much time alone in the room lately so I take the opportunity to take stock of the notes I have on the walls and figure out what needs changing. I don’t do this when Snow’s around; he’s decided not to acknowledge the new wallpaper and I’m using that to my advantage. I can only hope that that means he’s been using it to study and that I’m not making him think I’ve completely lost it for no reason.  

Snow shuffles back in just as I’m pinning the final page in place above my dresser. He smells like biscuits.

“Um,” he says, and I steel myself for some sort of confrontation about the walls. He thrusts out one hand and I flinch, but he’s just offering me a cup of tea. He frowns. “Uh, here,” he says. “I didn’t poison it.”

I raise an eyebrow and take half a step backward, and my elbow bashes painfully into the wall behind me.

Simon laughs at me, but I don’t think it’s just my imagination that he looks a little nervous. “It’s just tea, you fucking weirdo. Here—” He pulls it back toward himself and takes a sip, and he holds it back out to me. “See? Not poisoned.”

I feel like someone has slowly been scraping my brain out of my skull with a spoon. I take the mug from him. He turns around to put his own tea down and I turn my mug so my lips touch the same place that his did when I take a sip. (Fucking sue me.) It’s made exactly the way he likes it, which is exactly the opposite of how I like it, but I drink it anyway. Because Simon fucking Snow made it. For me.

SIMON

It takes me ages to get to sleep. I’m usually good at not thinking about things but tonight my brain is just too full of bazbazbazbaz and all of our weird… weirdness lately. I toss and turn and listen to Baz sigh at all the noise I’m making and finally, finally, I fall into a restless sleep.

I wake up hot and uncomfortable and way too fucking early, but when I look over and think about opening the window, I catch sight of Baz under his sixteen blankets and decide to let it go. Just for today. I get up and get in the shower instead.

I take my time getting ready. I have more than enough time, and Baz’s put up new Poli Sci mind-maps in the bathroom so I have to read and take pictures of it all in case he takes them back down before I get another chance (it’s not like I can just ask him to give me his fucking study schedule, can I?).

When I come out of the bathroom, Baz is still asleep, looking perfectly peaceful and cosy. I let myself look at him for a few more seconds before shoving my books in my bag and leaving the room. I even close the door quietly today.

Penny’s talking, but I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of pretending to listen. I let my gaze drift over to find Baz’s empty seat across the room one more time and then try my hardest to give Penny the attention she deserves.

“So then she tells me about this theory that all magic actually originated in the ocean, and that in order to borrow magical power from blue whales—whose great size made them extremely powerful—early mages did this ritual involving wattle flowers and—”

I turn to look at her so fast I get lightheaded. “What?”

Oh. She’s laughing at me. Again.

I groan and drop my head into my hands. “Sorry, Pen.”

“Simon, I’ve been talking about obscure magical theory for about twenty minutes, I don’t expect you to be hanging on to my every word.”

“But I still should’ve—”

She shakes her head and reaches across the table to give my hand a weird little pat. We both scrunch our noses and she laughs. “I could tell you weren’t really in the mood to humour my academic rambling this morning,” she says with a chuckle, “It’s fine, really.”

“Then why do you even bother with me?”

She gets this sad look on her face and I want to slide under the table and hide. “Because you’re wonderful and I love you,” she says. “And talking it out helps me process and make connections even if no one else is listening.” She shrugs and takes a bite of her toast. “And I know background noise grounds you and helps you focus, even if your focus happens to be Baz today. Most days. It’s mutually beneficial.”

“But…”

“Do you really think I would put up with you if you were being a bad friend?” she asks exasperatedly.

“No, I guess not,” I say slowly, “But—”

She steals the bacon off my plate. “Good. Now that that’s settled, I’m removing your quota on Baz-talk today. I want to know what happened that’s making you extra moody today.”

“I—Nothing happened.” I feel strangely possessive over our weird almost friendly moment last night, and as much as I can’t stop thinking about it, I also really don’t want to think about it.

We both know I’m lying, but I shove a scone in my mouth and she lets it go for now. I’m sure she’ll ambush me again later.

BAZ

I’m almost late to my first lesson. Fucking Snow. The one day he decides to be considerate and not make a fucking riot as he gets ready, I also forget to set my alarm. Thanks to bloody Snow, I almost never need it, but I usually set it anyway for the rare occasion I manage to get back to sleep after he leaves.

I rush through my morning routine and knot my tie on the way to class, and I just manage to get there and drop into my seat as the last bell rings.

Dev leans around Niall to raise an eyebrow at me. “What happened to you?”

“Snow fucking happened.”

“The usual then,” Niall says.

“Hmph.”

They laugh at me and I slink down in my seat and take a breath in a shoddy attempt at dispelling some of the leftover adrenalin. It doesn’t work. The classroom slowly fills and when Wellbelove walks in, I see her gaze catch on me before she redirects and comes over to us. She sets a mug of coffee down in front of me.

“What’s this?”

“Coffee,” she says, rolling her eyes. “For you.”

I roll my eyes right back. “You brought me coffee?”

“Well, not exactly,” she says. “I brought it for me. But you weren’t at breakfast. And you look like a bit of a mess.”

Niall perks up beside me. “You would too if you were in—”

I kick him under the table. “I’ll murder you,” I hiss.

Agatha just laughs prettily. “Simon?”

I turn my glare on her, but she’s got this glint in her eye that makes me falter. I might set myself on fire. “Don’t think I won’t murder you too,” I say anyway.

“You have like one and a half friends,” Dev pipes up, then looks at Agatha and adds, “Two? You can’t exactly afford to go murdering them all.”

“Bloody watch me,” I mutter.

I don’t think anyone else has noticed yet, but I begin to smell Snow’s magic filling the air. Crowley, he’s still hung up on her? I thought they were done for good this time. That’s what Wellbelove told me, at any rate, but maybe Snow didn’t quite get the memo.

I’m sick of being subjected to his jealous rage every time I talk to the woman. I’m sick of Agatha being subjected to it. Merlin.

Bunce walks up behind Snow and ushers him over to their desk, and the combined distraction of Bellamy walking in at the same time manages to calm his magic.

“Well, I’d better go sit. Hope your day gets better,” Agatha says, and she pats my hand before heading over to take her seat.

Fuck, could I be any more fucking embarrassing?

In the afternoon, I take down all my notes. It’s a bit of an effort, and I want to rip it all down in a fit of passion and spite, but I am not letting all that work go to waste. My notes are the best they’ve ever been, and even if I’m taking them away from Snow, I can still use them without plastering them all over the walls. So, while Snow’s still out, I carefully take everything down and neatly separate it all by subject to add to the rest of my neatly organised study materials.

The room feels uncomfortably empty now. I can’t believe we’ve lived in this room for so many years and neither one of us thought to decorate the walls at all. I suppose Snow thinks it would be too close to conceding to the fact that our living situation isn’t going to change.

SIMON

Baz has pinned a pride flag above his bed. It’s only about the size of one of my school notebooks and positioned in what I’m guessing is the exact measured centre above his bed. It’s got shades of green on the top and shades of blue on the bottom, separated by a stripe of white. I’m pretty sure it’s the gay men pride flag. Interesting.

It takes me a bit longer to realise that he’s also taken down his study notes. All of them. I guess he was fucking with me after all. He let me think he was actually helping me for a bit, getting my hopes up while I started actually learning some stuff, before ripping it all away again. I growl at the empty room.

“Didn’t take you for a homophobe,” Baz says behind me.

I spin around to see him leaning against the doorframe. “That’s not—I wasn’t—”

I can’t tell him I was growling about the disappearance of the notes. Acknowledging their disappearance means admitting I give a shit that they’re gone, which means admitting that I probably used them. Which is exactly what he wanted.

“I’m queer,” I say instead. My chest heaves a bit with the admission, but then I just feel lighter. “And asexual,” I mumble, because I might as well get it all out while we’re here.

BAZ

Interesting.

SIMON

“So, you know, not a fucking homophobe. Jesus,” I say, “I don’t care that you’re—” I wave a hand toward the flag.

“Gay,” he says, and I nod.

“Cool. Good for you. Whatever,” I say. “I’m leaving.”

He lingers in the doorway for a few more seconds before pushing off and moving aside for me to pass.

I text Penny to find out where she is and she asks me to meet her in the library. She’s at a table in the back, hidden away by the books on Magical Medicine.

I sit down across from her and say, “I just came out to Baz.”

She smiles and says, “Should I be jealous? You haven’t even come out to me.”

“What? No. It just sort of… came out,” I say. I wrinkle my nose and roll my eyes and then add, “And you already know I’m not straight.”

“Only because I figured out that you’re in love with Baz.”

“I’m not—I’m not in love with him,” I hiss. “I just think he’s…” I wonder if it’s a bad sign that I can’t think of any of Baz’s good qualities except annoyingly attractive. I don’t have a list of reasons why I like him, I just… do. Unfortunately. And now I know he’s gay. Except I don’t really know if that matters when we can barely exist in the same room without fighting.

“Are you spiralling?” Penny asks lightly.

“No,” I say, wetting my lips and swallowing. “I’m just sad, I think.”

“Oh. Simon…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I mutter, looking down at her magical theory textbook. “But, uh. Just so you know, he took down all his notes. So he was probably fucking with me after all. I was right,” I boast weakly.

Penny’s brow creases in a mix of concern and confusion. I am far too familiar with this look. “He didn’t do that because you came out, did he?”

“Oh. Nah. He’d already done that before. He didn’t care about the queer thing.”

Penny relaxes.

“That’s what I am, by the way,” I say. “Queer.”

She smiles and nods but is interrupted when we both notice Baz waltzing into the library with Dev. I groan and drop my head onto the table.

“Fuck me,” I mumble miserably.

“Do you want to go study outside instead?”

“Nah, I think I’m just gonna go take a nap while he’s not in the room,” I say, shoving myself back to my feet. “See you later?”

“That sounds like a great idea.” She gets up to give me a hug and walks me to the library entrance. “Just… text me if you need me, okay?”

“Sure, Pen. Thanks.”

PENELOPE

I watch Simon walk out of sight, and then march over to Baz and Dev.

“Can I borrow Basil?” I say to Dev.

He looks from me to Baz, who looks both offended and confused before he schools his expression into something closer to disdain.

Dev grins. “Sure,” he says, “I’m gonna go… not be here.” He picks up his things, winks at Baz and leaves the library entirely.

Baz sighs, looking bored. “What do you want, Bunce?”

I sit down across from him. “I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing with Simon.”

SIMON

I blearily open my eyes, roll onto my back and blink up at the ceiling. “What the fuck?” I mumble.

The room is covered in Baz’s study notes again, and not just on his side. There’s even giant sheets of neatly drawn and labelled constellations and other astrology shit on the ceiling now. Above my bed.

The notes plastering the walls are a bit different this time—it’s mostly smaller flashcards rather than full pages, and there’s a lot more mind-maps and diagrams and little drawings (I didn’t know Baz could fucking draw). It’s all very neatly colour-coded, and I’m still half-asleep and very confused, but it looks like the exact same system Penny uses. I wonder where they both must have stolen it from.

I turn onto my side and look across the room to where Baz is reading at his desk.

“I don’t understand you,” I tell him. “Just…” I huff and turn away from him. “Whatever. Never mind.”

BAZ

I used to revel in pissing him off. I still do, actually. But fuck me if I make him sad.

SIMON

In Magic Words we get our last informal test back. I get a B. A fucking B!

“Well done, Simon,” Miss Possibelf says, “You should be very proud of your recent progress. Whatever you’ve been doing, keep it up.”

I seek out Baz before I even think about it, and he’s smirking. I see his eyes shift away from Miss Possibelf and land on me, and his face quickly falls into something flat and expressionless when he realises I’ve caught him. He looks so… cold. Watching it happen actually makes my chest hurt. I swallow thickly and look away, trying my best to smile along with Penny as she tells me how happy she is for me.

I feel sick. Like I might throw up or choke on air. I skip my last lesson and take off into the woods. I make it past the thinner outer layer and just into the denser, deeper wood before I slow to a stop. Then I turn around and march back across the grounds.

BAZ

Snow skipped last period and dinner, which can only mean I’m going back to my lovely nightmare boy either missing on some mission or having some sort of crisis.

I walk in on him standing by my desk holding one of my notebooks, cradling it between both hands. On the left is the page I slipped in as a bookmark, titled Mordy’s top tips for studying when you can’t fucking read (Basil, you fucking owe me for this). Opposite that are my own notes and ideas. I look from his hands to his face and he’s already looking back at me, brazen and defiant.

He growls at me when I don’t react, and I’m not embarrassed to admit that he looks incredibly hot like this. Nervous and confused and a little bit lost, but no less furious and ready to fight me. He takes a daring step toward me and squares his shoulders.

“What is this?”

I refrain from asking whether he can read the title, because while I am genuinely curious—Mordy’s handwriting is very similar to what Snow called my ‘posh cursive shit’—I don’t think he’d take it well.

“Study techniques,” I say blandly, dumping my bag at my feet and leaning my back against the closed door.

“For when you can’t fucking read?” he says, waving the notebook at me.

I don’t know what to say. I realise far, far too late that I should have prepared for Simon finally confronting me. “I…”

His anger eases into a frown and he tilts his head, making him look like a confused, adorable golden retriever puppy. “You can read, right?”

I almost laugh. He’s for once not jumping to conclusions the one time he would be right. I also realise it’s an out, but I don’t even want to lie. I’m fucking tired. “Yes, I can read.”

He nods, looking entirely self-satisfied despite still not knowing what’s happening. “Right. So this is about your weird new study habits?” He looks back down at the notebook. “Who’s Mordy?”

I sigh and rub a hand down my face. “Can I sit down if we’re going to have this conversation?”

Simon’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re actually going to tell me?”

“Would you like me to change my mind?”

“No!”

He steps back to let me pass and I toe my shoes off before sitting cross-legged on my bed facing Snow. He frowns down at the notebook and his hand twitches like he’s not sure whether I’m about to murder him for holding onto it.

I sigh and wave him off. “Keep it,” I say.

“What?”

“I don’t need it back. You’ll understand in a minute. Just—Just give me a minute.”

He sits down heavily on the edge of his own bed and stares down at the notebook, and I watch his eyes jump down both lists. “Was this all for me?” he asks almost meekly. It doesn’t suit him.

“Yes.”

He looks up sharply. Crowley, I love surprising him.

“What?”

“You remember when I caught you looking through my—” I raise my hands to make air quotes. “—evil plots or whatever?”

His eyes shift away from mine. “Yeah.”

“You were looking at my history notes.”

“Oh,” he says, “Huh?”

“My handwriting isn’t posh cursive,” I say again, “It’s just a little… very messy. So I imagine you—”

He narrows his eyes and I shut my mouth.

“I what?”

“You always have trouble reading, don’t you?” I ask carefully. “I imagine my shitty handwriting was harder to read than normal printed text.”

Simon is just staring at me. I wish he would summon his sword or set me on fire or fucking something. But he doesn’t. So instead, I take a deep breath and then another, and fix my gaze on the mole at his jugular. Let him think I’m thinking about draining him. (I just want to kiss him.)

He squirms. Excellent.

“Mordy is Mordelia, my younger sibling? You’ve heard of them,” I remind him, and watch his face light up in recognition. “In that moment, you reminded me of them. They’re infuriatingly clever, but reading is hard and they have trouble focusing—”

Simon grimaces and glumly interrupts to say, “I’m not clever.” 

“Sure you are. But that wasn’t exactly the point.”

SIMON

I don’t think I’ve ever been more confused.

“A little after Mordelia started at Watford, they found out that they have dyslexia and ADHD. Once I thought about it, I realised you and them seemed to have some similar struggles and…”

“What? You asked them for tricks they use to study? And pretended to use them yourself on the off chance I would…”

Baz purses his lips.

“Why the hell would you try to help me?”

“I watched my sibling struggle their whole life and it was only worse when they came to Watford. When I realised that you…”

“Can’t read,” I say when he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Baz nods awkwardly. “I’d never thought about… I realised that you don’t exactly have the most supportive adults in your life—”

I want to argue and defend the Mage and the Bunces and the Wellbeloves, and even the teachers and shitty group home carers who don’t have the time and resources to help every single kid, but he’s right. No one has ever bothered to even try. Except Baz, apparently. What the fuck?

“—and that maybe no one had thought to have you assessed for dyslexia or anything. Just brushed it off as you being—”

“Stupid. Reckless. Lazy. Disruptive.” All words I’d heard more times than I can count. “And you didn’t think to just, I don’t know, ask me? Tell me that there’s a reason I’m like this?”

Baz winces. “Given our history? I didn’t think either of us was capable of having a polite conversation about something you were already insecure about.” 

I scrunch up my face involuntarily.

“Exactly,” Baz says, inclining his head solemnly. “I did what I could. I didn’t think it was so unlikely that you would have a snoop at our new wallpaper, so…”

“But why?”

“I…”

“And don’t tell me it was because of Mordelia,” I say.

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. “I was just trying to help.”

“But why?”

“Because I care about you,” he grits out, like he’s tired from holding the words back. He uncrosses his legs and lets his feet land on the floor with a dull thud. “I just… wanted to help.” He looks utterly defeated, but I still don’t understand why. What the hell is so terrible about… What? Caring about my grades?

I take a breath but he interrupts before I say another word.

“If you ask me why one more time, I’m going to set myself on fire.”

I scoff. “Surely that’s a bit dramatic.”

He laughs, but it sounds flat and a bit broken. “No, it’s really not.”

I stand up and move to sit beside him on his bed, close enough that our sides are squashed together. He goes rigid but doesn’t move away.

“Snow,” he says stiffly, “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?”

I swallow and say, “Sitting. But now if you want to set yourself on fire, you’ll have to take me with you.” I used to be so sure that that was a lifelong dream of his to kill me, but now… “So.”

“Simon…” he breathes out, and it sounds like he’s hurting. “I don’t know, all right? I was tired of… I was just tired.” He leans forward with his elbows digging into his thighs and drops his face into his hands.

I slide off the bed to kneel between his feet and grab his wrists to tug his hands away. I sit back on my heels and hold his hands in mine, and he stares down at them with wide eyes.

“Mordelia says I’m bad at feelings.”

I snort. “Penny says the same about me.”

“I imagine the two of them would get along frighteningly well,” Baz says, “We can’t ever let them meet.”

“Agreed.” I look over at the notebook where I left it on my bed. “Did Mordelia know that you were doing this for me?”  

He sighs. “I’m sure they figured it out.”

BAZ

Shit. Shit. Now he’s going to have questions. I really, really should have thought this through.

“But how would they know I struggle with reading? I’ve never even met them, have I?”

“I don’t think so,” I say slowly, looking away from him and toward the door. 

“So why would they assume it was for me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t they know you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” I say before I can think better of it. What’s wrong with me?

“But you let everyone think you do,” Snow says. “Including me.”

“I… suppose so,” I say. I have no idea what he’s thinking and I’m starting to get truly nervous. I notice my hands are sweating, which reminds me that Snow’s still holding them, so I pull them back into my lap. I look across the room and try to read the Greek notes I stuck to Snow’s wardrobe. I feel him watching me, but I can’t move. I can barely breathe.

“Oh,” he says softly, “I think I figured it out.”

I scoff despite the bile rising in my throat. “I highly doubt that.” Well. I can very much hope he hasn’t. But I wasn’t lying when I called him clever.

“No, I really think I have,” he says, and he reaches up and touches his fingertips to my jaw, turning my face to look at him.

I stand up and walk out of the room.

SIMON

Fuck.

I haul myself to my feet and take a few clumsy steps to follow him before I force myself to stop so I can think.

I fumble for my phone and call Penny.

“Do you think you could do something for me?”

“Hello to you too, Simon.”

“Please, Penny, I—”

“Okay,” she says quickly, and I can imagine her straightening her back and putting on her problem-solving face. “What do you need?”

“Could you please go find Mordelia Grimm for me?”

“What? Why?”

“I… I finally almost got somewhere with Baz but he took off and I need Mordelia to help me find him.”

“Got somewhere like you finally realised he’s not trying to kill you or got somewhere like got somewhere?”

“I—I don’t know. Both, maybe? But it’ll be for nothing if I can’t fucking find him and—”

“Okay, breathe, Simon. It’ll be all right,” Penny says calmly, “I’m on my way to Mordelia’s room now. What do you want me to say to her?”

“Um.” Shit. I didn’t ask Baz if I’m allowed to correct people about Mordelia’s pronouns.

“Simon?”

“I, uh. I don’t know,” I mumble distractedly, shoving my feet into some shoes and starting down the stairs.

Penny sighs but before I can sort myself out, I hear a knock and she switches to her charismatic down-to-business voice. “Hi, Mordelia,” she says, “I, er… I’m Penelope Bunce, a seventh year. I’m just on the phone with Simon Snow, who’s a bit worried about Baz. Do you think you could help us find him?”

There’s an awkward pause and I wish more than anything that I knew what it meant.

“Can I talk to Snow?” Mordelia asks. There’s some shuffling, and then their voice comes in clearer. “What did you do to my brother?” they demand.

“Nothing! We were just talking and I guess he panicked and ran out and I know all of his usual hiding places so I don’t know where he’d go to hide from me when he knows I’m probably looking for him and I know you two are close so I was hoping you might know where to start?”

Mordelia sighs. “Shit,” they say, “Fine. I’ll meet you outside the Cloisters in five minutes. I’m giving you back to your friend now.”

“She’s just getting her coat,” Penny says, “That was easier than I thought. Did you want me to come?”

“No, I… I know you wanted to go to sleep early tonight. We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying up.”

“Yeah. Thanks, though.”

“Hmph,” she says. I hear her check with Mordelia that they’re fine meeting me on their own, and then she says, “Fine. Text me when you find him and then I want details in the morning.”

I roll my eyes but dutifully say, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Mordelia’s on her way now,” she says, “But I’ll stay on until she meets you if you want.”

Mordelia shouts a goodbye to Penny and then I listen to her shuffle back to her own room while I wait for them. They emerge from the Cloisters wearing chunky black boots and a black coat over their dark green pyjama set, looking both curious and annoyed.

“Mordelia’s here,” I say into the phone, “Thanks again, Pen. Talk in the morning.”

“No problem,” she says, “Good luck.”

I disconnect the call and awkwardly greet Mordelia. We’ve never met before, but I recognise them from around Watford. They look a lot like Baz but more… punk. And they actually smile every now and then.

“Um, sorry,” I say, “I didn’t know if I was supposed to correct her when she misgendered you. I didn’t think to ask when Baz mentioned you came out and changed your pronouns. Congrats on all that, by the way.”

They raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t even expect that you would know. How did you two find time between all the angry flirting for Basil to casually mention that his little sister’s actually nonbinary?”

“Um.” Angry flirting? “He just… mentioned it. He was in a good mood, I guess.”

They narrow their eyes. “All right,” they say slowly. “And yes, I’m out to pretty much everyone so you can correct people if you’re comfortable doing that, but you don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to?”

They pause, looking surprised. “I…” they say, “Yes.”

“Then I will.”

Their frown deepens but they nod. “Thank you.”

“Sure. Can we go find Baz now?”

“Stop worrying, will you?” they say, setting off toward the Weeping Tower. “I’m sure he’s fine; I’m betting he’s either in the kitchens or the music wing.”

We find him standing in the kitchens in his dishevelled school uniform—sleeves rolled up to his elbows—and just his socks. He’s got his back to us, until Mordelia reaches into their coat pocket and pulls out a mint aero bar to lob at his head. He spins around, looking furious and betrayed.

“Fuck,” he says, looking directly at me, “Mordy, you fucking traitor.”

The smirk on their face is eerily similar to Baz’s. “Baz, you dramatic fuck,” they reply brightly, “Brought you your boyfriend.”

He freezes, glare now locked on Mordelia. “I’m going to shave your head in your sleep.”

“Hm,” they say, twirling a lock of their long black hair, “You know, I think I could do with a change.”

Baz rolls his eyes and then slowly, he grins. It looks evil. And really fucking hot. “I’ll eat all your pretzels then,” he says.

They pause for about two seconds before they shrug and say, “Worth it.”

Baz’s jaw drops, and Mordelia cackles beside me. They shove me further into the room and I finally look around to see what Baz is even doing in here.

“Are you… stress baking?”

“No,” Baz says quickly.

At the same time, Mordelia says, “Yep! He does this a lot.”

Baz sighs and tries to shoo them away but they only advance further forward. When they reach Baz, they crush him in a hug and whisper something that I don’t hear. In retaliation, Baz pokes them in the sides and shoves them away and out the door. We hear them laughing halfway down the hallway.

“Thank you!” I shout after them.

“You owe me some pretzels,” they shout back.

I frown at Baz but he just waves a hand and says, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hi,” I say.

He rolls his eyes. “So, you found me,” he says, and I think he’s trying to sound bored but not quite getting there. “What now?”

“What are you baking?”

He looks down at the bench and his spread of ingredients. I follow his gaze and process the information before he can answer, and he seems to realise that he can’t lie. “I was going to make sour cherry scones. As an… apology.”

“You’re baking for me?”

He doesn’t look at me, but I see his cheeks go a bit pink.

“An apology for what, though?”

He sighs. “Do you really want a list?”

“Do you have a list?”

“Yes,” he says quietly.

“Oh.” What the fuck? “Well, we’ve both been a bit shit to each other, yeah? How about we just call it even?”

He scoffs. “You really think it’s that simple?”

I shrug. “Sure. Except I actually… have one more confession first.” I smile nervously and say, “I uh… I sorta let Penny and Mordelia meet.”

Baz’s eyes widen and he looks about to throttle me. “Excuse me?”

“I needed help getting Mordelia to snitch on your hiding spot! I don’t think they actually talked much; Penny was half asleep.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. “Shit, I was supposed to text her when I found you so she could go to sleep.”

BAZ

“Why on Earth would she…?”

“She was a bit worried,” he says distractedly while he taps away on his phone.

“About me?”

“Yeah,” he says, “And about… Well. Us, I guess.” He locks his phone, shoves it in his pocket and looks up at me.

“Us…” I repeat slowly, my gaze skittering away from him and down to the bench. “What exactly does that mean?”

“I...” he says, “I thought we were finally maybe starting to fix things? But I get that I pushed you too far and… I’m sorry about that.”

I swallow, take a deep breath and turn my back on him. I grab the last few things I need out of the pantry and set to work.

“What are you doing?”

“Baking you scones,” I say tightly. I glance up at him quickly. “Unless you don’t want them?”

“I—” He snorts. “Of course I want them,” he says, “But you don’t have to do that. I was hoping we would actually talk.”

I nod and keep weighing out the flour.

Simon’s eyes flick between my face and my hands, and his frown slowly eases. “Okay,” he says, his voice soft.

I want to squirm under his gaze. I feel so fucking seen—I feel naked—and everything in me is screaming to self-destruct. Instead, I shove my hands into the dough and start to gently bring it together. Simon crosses the last of the space between us and stands next to me, pressing his hip against mine. I feel like crying.

“Can I help?”

“No,” I snap, batting his hand away and getting flour all over his sleeve. He lets out a startled laugh. “I need this,” I say.

He nods and steps away. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” I say, feeling very cold again. “Just—” I sigh and use my arm to push my hair out of my face while I try to pull myself together.

Snow cautiously returns to my side, reaches for my arm and slides the hair tie off my wrist. He looks at me expectantly. I don’t move. He sighs exasperatedly and steps around me so he can pull my hair back into a low bun. “Isn’t your pretty long hair some sort of food safety hazard?” he asks.

“You’re a food safety hazard,” I mutter automatically.

He laughs behind me and I feel his forehead land between my shoulder blades while he shakes and catches his breath. The contact eases some of the tightness in my body and I can breathe again. I laugh and elbow him in the side.

“Shut it,” I say, “This is embarrassing.” I point to the end of the bench free from the reach of my stress scones. “Sit.”

He obediently hops up onto the bench and swings his legs back and forth happily. I watch him while I collect myself, and I feel my mouth slowly curl up into a smile.

“There you are,” he says softly.

“I thought I told you to shut it,” I say, moving in to stand between his knees. I reach up and swipe a finger along his jaw, leaving a trail of flour behind. I smirk and he smiles dazedly back at me. I have to look away.

I return to the scones and finish them off, cutting them into equal portions and carefully spacing them out on the tray before putting them in the oven. I set the timer, pull my hair loose and return to Snow.

“So,” I say.

“So,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “So, you figured me out?”

He grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me closer, trapping my hips between his thick thighs. “Did I?”

SIMON

He ducks his head and his hair falls forward to hide his face. He doesn’t look at me when his hands land carefully on my thighs. They slide up my legs and around my hips, arms curling tightly around my waist as he draws me into a hug. I drape my arms over his shoulders and rest my cheek on the top of his head. His hair smells nice.

“Simon,” he says into my chest, “I’m—” He pulls away, keeping his hands locked behind my back. “Mordelia says I suck at feelings,” he says again.

“You do sort of suck at feelings,” I say.

He ignores me. “I don’t know how to be better,” he says, “But I do know that I’ve been half in love with you since I figured out what it meant.”

I grin and twist the back of his school shirt in my fists to make sure he doesn’t run away again. “Only half?”

Baz frees me from his arms to shove at my shoulder and I catch his hand and hold it between our chests. His other hand ends up on the bench, wrist pressed against the outside of my thigh. “Maybe three-quarters,” he says. Then he looks into my eyes and murmurs, “Maybe completely.” He leans in slowly, closes his eyes and gently bumps his forehead against mine. “Definitely completely.”

I grin. I can’t help it. “So you decided to secretly help me study?”

He pulls back to glare at me. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” I say slowly, “But you have to admit it’s a bit of a weird way to declare your undying love for someone.”

He scowls and swiftly twists out of my grasp, and I’m left staring at his back halfway across the room before I can think to grab ahold of him. “I take it back, then,” he says coldly.

“I don’t think you can take that back,” I say.

“Well, I just did.”

“What if I don’t want you to,” I say, trying my best to shove back the slow overflow of magic that wants to spill out of me. “What if your weird, thoughtful declaration of love has been all I can think about for weeks? If you have been all I think about for years?” I hop off the bench but don’t make a move toward him despite how much I just want to shake him. Hold him. “What if I want you to love me as much as I love you?”

He turns around to face me with this angry sneer on his pretty face and I step back in surprise. “I don’t believe you,” he says. “I can’t. I—” He takes a shuddering breath and says, “I refuse to believe your standards are so low that you’d love me back when what you deserve is far, far more than I could ever be for you.”

“But I want you,” I say. “I don’t want you to be anything for me. I just want you to let me love you for you. I already do, you dramatic prick.”

Baz shakes his head, looking somewhere across the room. I feel tears building up in my eyes, something in my chest squeezing for him.

“Do I need to sic Mordelia and Penny on you?” I tease despite my wet eyes, “Because I’ll endure their wrath for bothering them twice in one night if it means you’ll believe you’re worthy of all of our love.”

Baz scoffs. “Penelope Bunce does not love me,” he says.

“All right, maybe not yet, but she will. I know it,” I say. “But notice how you didn’t deny that me and Mordelia do?”

“But I—”

The timer for the scones dings and we stare at each other for another tense moment before he swiftly turns away to check on them. The kitchen smells even more amazing once Baz has opened the oven and taken the scones out, and I sneak up behind him to have a look. He slaps my hand away when I reach for them.

“Do you not know how ovens work? They’re hot.”

“You’re hot,” I say.

Baz closes his eyes as he tries and fails to hide his smile. “This wasn’t the plan,” he says, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Be brave,” I whisper back.

BAZ

Bravery is his thing. Mine is repressing my feelings and being an arsehole so no one gets too close.

“You be brave,” I say.

He laughs and tugs me in close, winding his arms around my back. “I’ve had a crush on you for ages. For some reason, I really, really like the whole pretty, posh, mean thing you’ve got going on. Dunno exactly when it turned into love, but it did.” He grins and says, “Penny knows it, too. You could ask her.”

“I am not talking to Penelope Bunce about feelings.”

“You know you could just call her Penny, right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“D’you want me to get her to call you Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch?”

I ignore him. “You really told her that you… love me? How did that go?”

“She sort of figured it out,” he says, “She wasn’t even surprised. I’ve always been a bit obsessed with you.”

I suppose he has, but that was because he hated me. Although… I suppose he thought the same about me and I… love him.

“And she was… okay with it?”

He snorts. “Are you scared of her or something? Yeah, she’s okay with it. Why wouldn’t she be?”

I lift an eyebrow. Snow reaches up and pushes it back down. I snap my teeth at him and he just laughs, all bright and sunshiny.

“Fuck,” I say, “Fine. Okay. I’ll…” I swallow and meet his unwavering gaze. “Okay.”

“Good.” He stands up on his toes and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Can I have a scone now?”

I roll my eyes and wave him away. “Fine,” I say, watching him in my periphery as he approaches the scones, “Burn your mouth and be unable to kiss me properly.”

His head swivels toward me so fast I’m sure he gets dizzy. He looks completely torn, and I suddenly know what it feels like to be a warm, buttery scone in the vicinity of Simon Snow. “That’s not fair!” he whines, looking back and forth between me and the scones.

I advance on him, leaning in close, sliding a hand around his waist and revelling in the way he shudders. I really want to make him choose, but I’m also afraid that he’d pick the scones. “Did you forget that we have magic?” I whisper in his ear before dragging myself away from him.

“Oh,” he says, “You’re a genius.” He keeps watching me expectantly, and I very nearly make him beg, but I can’t bring myself to deny him any longer. I draw my wand and spell the scones to a more reasonable temperature.

I wrap the leftovers and tidy the mess I made of the kitchen while Simon eats four scones and badgers me about how I knew how to make them so perfectly. I’m lucky I have so much practice resisting his charm. And his stubborn ability to annoy me.

When we’re ready to leave, Simon takes my hand and squeezes it tightly like he’s afraid the spell will be broken once we walk out the door. I squeeze back because I share the same fear.

When he finally takes a step toward the door, I gently tug him back to stand before me.

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

His jaw drops open and he looks so fucking happy I might ignite. “Yes, you dramatic fuck. Of course I will.”

“Okay,” I say breathlessly, “Good. Let’s go.”

I walk confidently out of the kitchen, pulling Simon along by the hand.

“What?” he whisper-shouts. “You can’t do all that and not kiss me!”

I look back at him and smirk. “Watch me.”

He falls into step beside me, looking grumpy but still very pleased. “You want me to carry you?” he asks as we cross the chilly grounds to Mummers. He’s looking down at my feet.

Do I regret not stopping for half a second to grab my shoes earlier? Absolutely. But I’m not about to admit that. “You want me to eat all your scones?”

He clutches them closer to his chest and I laugh.

“Oh!” Simon says as he closes the door behind us. He’s looking sheepishly at the political science notes on the back of the door. “Uh. Penny told me to tell you that you got something wrong in your Poli Sci notes. It was… Er, hang on, she texted it to me.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and shows me the text.

Fuck. She’s right. Of course she is. Fucking Penelope Bunce. I scowl and Simon giggles, bumping his shoulder into mine.

“You shared my top-secret study materials with my only real competition for top of the class?”

“Top-secret?” he repeats dubiously. “Besides, if I hadn’t shown her, you wouldn’t know that you got that thing wrong.”

“Why did you show her anyway? Doesn’t she have her own impeccable study system by now?”

She does. I know she does. She even deigned to share some of her secrets with me in order to help me help Simon.

“She does,” he says slowly, “But I sorta had her check that you weren’t writing fake notes to fuck with me.”

I want to be offended, but that does sound like something that I would do. “Thanks for the idea,” I say.

“Aw, you wouldn’t do that,” he teases, “You like me too much!”

“Oh, do I?”

“Hang on,” he says, “I was actually wondering—You and Penny have really similar—” He turns around and searches the room with his eyes, then he grabs my notebook from his bed and opens it to the colour-coding key. He stares down at it with a cute little crease between his brows. “This is Penny’s handwriting,” he says.

Fucking Penelope Bunce. I should drain her dry. Or thank her, maybe. Ugh.

“It is,” I say slowly, because it’s not as if I can argue that he doesn’t know his best friend’s handwriting. “She didn’t tell you she ambushed me in the library the other day?” I say lightly, pushing a hand through my hair.

“What? No! What did she do?”

I huff out a laugh. “Just some light threatening,” I say, “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Simon’s eyes blow wide. He looks like he’s not sure whether he should be touched that she cares so much or appalled that she’s been threatening me.

“I’m kidding.” I’m not, but he doesn’t need to know that. “She knew what I was doing and that I’d taken everything down that day,” I say, and wait for some recognition that he remembers. “She… encouraged me to stop being petty and keep helping you.”

“Why did you take it all down in the first place?”

“Because I’m petty, Snow. Do keep up.”

“You? Petty? Noooo…”

“I know,” I say with false exasperation, “Unheard of, isn’t it? So very unlike me.”

He shoves me. And then he pulls me back in and rubs his hands up and down over the thin fabric of my sleeves. “You’re freezing,” he says.

“And you’re so hot,” I mumble, leaning into his warmth without even thinking about it.

SIMON

I shove him into the bathroom for a hot shower.

While I’m waiting I change out of my uniform. I trade trousers for trackies and I hem and haw over a t-shirt, but it’s already stuffy in the room, I reason, since I’d closed the window for the sake of Baz’s bloody icicle fingers. So I decide I have an excuse to go shirtless tonight.

I lay down on Baz’s bed because I’ve always wanted to, and now I can. Well… I’m pretty sure I can, anyways.

BAZ

I open the bathroom door and stumble to a stop over the threshold.

“You’re… half naked,” I say, “and on my bed.”

Simon grins impishly. “Is that a problem?”

“You’re a problem,” I snap.

Simon tilts his head like a puppy, still smiling. “Ouch,” he says, “Doesn’t mean much now that I know you wanna kiss me, though.”

“That’s the bloody problem, isn’t it?”

“Why’s it gotta a problem? Just c’mere.”

I scoff. As if it’s that bloody simple.

His smile slowly fades into a frown and I have to take a very deep breath before I do something embarrassing.

“Baz?”

I shake my head and go to him.

“So, I realised something,” he says carefully. “You were jealous of yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s why you were being dramatic and petty and took your notes down, right? You were jealous because you thought I was jealous over Agatha.”

I shove his feet off my bed and loom over him. “I wasn’t jealous, you bloody wanker. I was appalled on Wellbelove’s behalf that you were so violently possessive over her.”

Simon deflates, sinking back into my bedding. “Oh.”

“Good to know that you were jealous of Wellbelove, though,” I say, finally finding my smirk again.

Simon wrinkles his nose. It’s very, very cute. Disgustingly so. “Yeah, well. How was I supposed to know you’re into blokes?”

I raise a brow.

He snorts out a laugh, sits up and pokes me in the side. “Yeah, all right. Dramatic twat. So that’s why you came out to me that day?”

I sigh. “I wanted to be able to talk to my friend without you making a fool of all of us. And I wanted that for Agatha, too.”

He frowns, all grumpy and guilty. I sigh and sit down beside him.

“We both owe her apologies, I think. Tomorrow’s problem, though, hm?” Brow raised in the way I know he hates, I wait for him to slowly nod, and then I turn to fuss with my blankets so I don’t have to look at him when I say, as nonchalantly as I can manage, “You staying here, then?”

“With you?” he asks, all brash, unbridled surprise, “Are we doing that now?”

I scowl. “Well, if you don’t want to—”

“I do!” he says, and I'm ridiculously pleased that his voice has gone a little bit breathless. “I want that,” he says, “If you also want that.”

I turn to face him again and shove a hand into his hot, naked chest so he falls back into the pillows. “You’re not going anywhere if I can help it.”

He smiles dazedly up at me. “Okay.” He chews on his lip for a minute before pushing it into a pout and raising his eyebrows inelegantly. “You comin’ to bed, then? Or are you just gonna stare at me forever?”

He’s going to kill me. “I’m thinking,” I tell him.

“Well,” he says slowly, and if I thought pining from five feet away was agonising, I have a feeling I’ve been severely underestimating how torturous his teasing might be. “If you don’t c’mere I don’t see how I’m gonna kiss you goodnight.”

I scoff. “And who says I—”

He yanks me forward with a fistful of my pyjama shirt.

I land on top of him, only just getting my hands planted on either side of his chest so I don’t completely crush him. Until he grins and knocks my arms out from under me.

“Oof,” I huff, “Brute.” He lets me push up onto my elbows but I don’t dare try to go any farther.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hm?”

“This is real, yeah?”

I frown at him, tracing imaginary lines between the freckles on his bicep with my fingertips. “Yes?”

“I just mean—” He grunts and looks at the ceiling, arms curling around his torso.

I carefully walk my elbows up his body until my face is level with his, and I push a hand through his curls because I can. “Simon.” I swallow. Take a breath. Let myself be pulled in like I’m falling into the sun. And I kiss him.

SIMON

I’m not sure if it feels more or less real now.

I stop thinking and get my hands up his posh pyjama shirt and around his back, leaning up into him and pulling him closer. I smile into the kiss and he pulls away to pout until I shake my head and kiss him again. Quickly, though, because that’s all I can manage when I can’t wipe the grin off my face.

“You’re a nightmare,” Baz mumbles, eyes still shut, pretty blush high on his cheeks.

“And you’re like… really fit, did you know?”

“Shut up.”

I press my lips together to try to stop the smile splitting my face even if he can’t see it. “Make me,” I say.

He sucks in a breath and then he very bravely makes sure my mouth is thoroughly otherwise occupied.

Baz yawns into my mouth and I can’t help but laugh into his.

“Ugh,” he says, rolling off of me and hiding his face in his hands.

I follow him and throw an arm across his waist and a thigh across his hips. “That was proper sexy, that.”

“Shut up,” he whines, and then he rolls onto his side and slams into me, and he shuts me up.

BAZ

He gently pushes me away after a little while longer, but then he chases my mouth and keeps kissing me.

“Mmph. Simon,” I mumble. I dip down to kiss along his jaw and he sighs sleepily. I pull back. “Bedtime?”

He clutches at the back of my shirt and frowns.

“You can stay here,” I tell him, “I… want you to stay.”

“And you’re gonna kiss me again in the morning?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Only after we brush our teeth. You may be cute, but nobody is cute enough to make morning breath taste good.”

“You are,” Simon says, grinning soppily, “But deal.”

He helps me yank the blankets out from under us and we snuggle in together, reaching a comfortable equilibrium with our opposite body temperatures. Simon’s got both arms curled around my waist with his warm hands up the back of my shirt again. I don’t remind him that his arm’s gonna fall asleep under me. I’m not self-sacrificing like he is.

His naked torso is oh-so-tempting but I’m afraid to touch him. Afraid that I might not be totally allowed. I wet my lip and look from my hands to Simon’s face, and the fucker rolls his eyes at me.

“I’m not gonna bite you if you touch me,” he says.

No, he’s just going to break my bloody heart someday.

“Kiss me?” I request quietly.

He does. All sweet and saccharine, like he loves me. I finally let myself sink into the feeling and I press my cold palms against his chest, sliding one down to squeeze at his soft hip.

I mouth at his jaw and mumble, “Love you.”

“And I…” he says, “love you back. Lots.” He yawns and kisses me high on my cheekbone. “Night, sweetheart.”

Be still my undead heart. “Goodnight, Simon.”

SIMON

I wake up with Baz’s hair in my mouth and his light, puffing little breaths tickling my neck. I try to turn his face away but he stirs and presses in closer.

“Baz, c’mon, sweetheart.”

He turns his face out of my neck and mumbles, “Sim’n?”

“Sorry,” I mutter, “Tickles.”

“What, this?” He snuffles back into my neck, tickling me with his breath and mouthing at my sensitive skin. I can feel him smiling.

I laugh and try uselessly to squirm away. “Fuck off! Morning breath, remember!”

Baz licks me. “Hmm. Don’t think so,” he mumbles. “You told me I was cute enough to tolerate it, remember?”

“Well, I—I changed my mmph—mind!” I say, trying to catch my breath around my giggles, “Ah—arsehole!”

Baz pulls back and I whine pathetically. He smirks, but it’s so soft when he’s all sleepy like this. “You sure about that?”

“Shut up and come back here.”

He kisses me, gross morning breath and all.

“Changed your mind?”

He makes a face. “Not at all,” he says. And he kisses me again.

He can only tolerate it for so long, though, and he eventually makes us get up to brush our teeth. We trade some more kisses—a little more shy and uncertain in the daylight—in between getting ready for the day, and Baz doesn’t once snark about how early I’ve accidentally woken him up.

“So,” he says once we’re running out of excuses to prolong the inevitable.

“So?”

He frowns. “We said… boyfriends?”

“Is that a question?” I sigh when he just stares at me. “Yes, we said boyfriends. Have you… changed your mind?”

“No,” he says slowly, “Have you?”

“Um. No?”

“Is that a question?”

“Baz. I love you,” I tell him. “I wanna be your boyfriend. I wanna keep kissing you and, like…” I shuffle toward him and take his hand. “Hold your hand and eat breakfast with you and—”

“Breakfast,” he repeats, “With me?”

Oh. I tug him in by the hand and kiss him. “I wanna tell everyone that I love you,” I say, “And that I snagged the hottest boy in school. Can you believe he picked me out of all the fairest fellows in the land! Me!”

He wrinkles his nose, but at least he’s smiling now.

“Don’t think for a second that I’m hiding you away, Pitch. I’m—” I kiss him with an obnoxious mwah. “—gonna show you off, sweetheart.”

We bicker all the way to breakfast about whose friends we get to sit with, and I win out with the promise that he and Penny can debate whatever Poli Sci point it was that she had me correct him on last night.

I stop holding my breath when Penny doesn’t even blink at Baz’s presence, and they start in on their debate before any of us has touched our food. I’m not remotely listening—because Baz is holding my hand on his thigh under the table and it’s all I can think about—but I do get to watch the two of them fall in platonic, academic love right in front of me.

Dev and Niall join us without a word, and Baz kicks one of them under the table as soon as they sit down. They both grin.

“Morning,” Dev drawls, “Any… news, lads? Bunce?”

Penny and Niall snort and break out into giggles, so I lean over and cradle Baz’s pinking cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Ugh,” Dev says.

“Aww,” says Niall.

Penny wrinkles her nose. “Ew.” She grins. “Congrats, boys. Thought I was gonna have to lock you two in a cupboard any day now.”

Baz hums thoughtfully and winks at me. He leans into me, lips to my earlobe, and teases, “Now there’s an idea.”

I feel my cheeks go hot.

Niall throws a bit of bacon at Baz. “I heard that, you bloody heathen. Yuck.”

“That’s what you get for being a shit,” Baz says primly. “Not another word out of you lot, thanks.”

Toward the end of breakfast, Mordelia saunters across the room and stops at our table with a smirk. They’ve shaved their head in the twelve hours since we last saw them.

Baz lets out this long-suffering sigh but stands up to hug them and give their newly buzzed head a rub. They grin at me over Baz’s shoulder, only tall enough because of the chunky boots they’re wearing with their school uniform.

“I think you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met,” I say.

They draw back from Baz, grasp him by the shoulders and look him straight in the face. “You have got to keep him.”

He turns to look at me over his shoulder, smiles beautifully and says, “Yeah, I think I do.”