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Oh, this is wonderful. This is a delight.
I'm finally going to get what I've been looking for all these years. Vindication that Baz Pitch is in love with my girlfriend.
(Ex-girlfriend. That's still settling in. I think it's for real this time.)
And as much as he insists it's to get under my skin, I hardly even care about that at this point. I just don't even think Agatha wants Baz, and if he's just trying to get my attention, that's… well, that's properly messed up, isn't it?
So if I can figure that out once and for all, I can punch him around. And also feel resolved after years of wondering.
And the person to thank for this solution? Gareth and his excellent connections. He has like a million exes and is somehow friends with all of them, and apparently one of his past girlfriend's moms runs a sweets shop. A magickal sweets shop, because of course.
It's quite technically illegal, but I'm honestly too thrilled to think about it for too long. Because these aren't just any chocolates shaped into perfect little squares, peppered with coconut and caramel and almonds.
These are spelled chocolates! And what are they spelled for, you ask?
("I didn't ask," griped Penny when I got to this part of the story.)
(Here's the answer anyway. Because it's essential to the plot.)
They reveal someone's true love.
What's wonderful about the chocolates is that they don't actually create fictional emotions. They just enhance them so much that they become impossible to quell. And though Baz is as cool as a cucumber most days, I'd like to see him up against sweets laced with highly illegal (and powerful) magic.
Penny's not in a place to question my morals, because she magicks up money all the time. And Agatha…
She normally would. But I'm not with her anymore. And it's all Baz's fault, for making her uncomfortable!
Or… it's her choice whether she wants him or not. If she does want him over me, that's fine. But if Baz has been trying to win her over without her consent? Or, I don't know, making her feel like he's interested when really all he wants is to annoy me?
I can't wait anymore. It's Valentine's Day anyway—the reason Gareth even had those chocolates in the first place. He actually ate some himself, only to discover that he's been quietly in love with Rhys and that Rhys loves him back. It's honestly really sweet, seeing them cavort around the courtyards. Obviously an isolated case; I doubt there will be anything sweet about the aftermath of spiking Baz's food.
Although I'm… not good at spiking. So I opted to keep it simple. Address the chocolates 'with love' to him from his secret admirer—just writing that makes my stomach all fluttery with disgust—I place them on the doorstep of our room and run around the corner to wait.
This lasts about two seconds before I realize he's going to think I'm suspicious. And probably hear me with his spooky vampire senses.
I stand smoothly, arms swinging, attempting to whistle a tune—it's difficult, okay?—and promptly running into the door. I almost stumble backward when I hear Baz's voice behind me.
"Well played, Chosen One. It seems you can fall down the stairs all on your own. You don't even need me anymore."
It's actually quite friendly for Baz. I'm on guard immediately.
But wait. I pull the insult back before it's all the way formed. I need to act normal.
I try to toss my hair. It flips back into my eyes and I wince at the contact. "Why hello, Baz. What a pleasure."
For a moment, he doesn't seem to know what to do with this. Eventually, he just laughs cruelly and says, "is that your attempt at an impression of me? Flattering, but pathetic." and promptly pushes me out of the way with a flourish.
He is the bane of my existence.
I'm hot on his heels, but he's already at his desk, gripping the box of chocolates. I didn't even see him picking them up. He's reading the note with a distrustful pucker between his brows. Like someone stating their love for him is the worst part of his day.
He doesn't seem to register my presence, and while I'd love to chalk it up to stealth, I'm fairly sure it's because the sweets allegedly have an intoxicating scent. Love spells are notoriously delicious—like roses and freshly baked bread.
He closes his eyes. I watch but don't watch his eyelashes flutter. Then he pops open the lid, takes a long inhale—they do smell really good, yeah—and lifts one hesitantly to his lips.
I have to keep from making grabby hands. I want one of those chocolates. But that would be disastrous; I'd end up on my knees in front of Agatha, blubbering like a fool. She'd have to pat my head and carry me back to Mummers.
(Although… would she even be the one I think of? I'm afraid that I didn't ever have feelings for her at all. And I wish that wasn't true, because I don't want to have wasted all that time for her. I hadn't meant to string her along.)
Baz looks to be in turmoil. He lowers the chocolate slowly, before abruptly changing course and popping it into his mouth.
If I wasn't there, he might've hummed appreciatively. It doesn't really matter, because I see in the melt of his shoulders that he's feeling things, if not yet saying them.
That's going to change soon. In a few minutes, he won't be able to stop speaking even if he wants to. I grin to myself, unable to help it.
He eats another chocolate. His eyes are sparkling. He looks… content?
I have the fleeting, ludicrous thought that I should get him chocolates more often, just to see him swoon like that. Maybe his real love is sweets.
He polishes off the box—using his vampire speed, I'm almost sure of it—and leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. His head is slowly splaying backwards and his eyes are rolling closed.
Is he… fainting?
I watch in slow horror as he begins to list sideways, putting weight on his bad leg. Normally I'd let him plummet the few feet. But he's so tall! And guilt is needling at me because what if I killed him? Maybe he was just supposed to eat one? I should've asked Gareth, I should've tried some before giving them to him…
I rush forward, kneeling at his side just as he topples in a heap of limbs onto my lap.
Oh. His hair is spilling out behind his face, all silky and thick. I can feel it brushing over my skin as his head lolls.
His breath hitches and his eyes flick open. For a minute, they're wide with panic. But then he looks up at me and sighs, eyes slipping closed again. His face is the picture of serenity.
"B-Baz?"
"Would you—could I just take a little nap right here? It would only be for a couple of minuses." His drowsy voice is shot through with gentleness. Even a little embarrassment.
"What? N—no…"
"Oh!" He starts picking himself up, wobbling dizzily for a moment before getting to his feet and anxiously fixing his hair. His eyes flick to his tie as he tugs it straight. "Of course, yes. I'm so sorry. I—I was eating the chocolates. I hadn't meant to but they were so good—do you—"
His frantic deluge pauses as he looks at me wide-eyed. "Did you give them to me?"
"Baz… I—"
And suddenly he's cold and close, wrapping one arm tightly around me for a moment before pulling away. I can't speak. I can't even move from where I'd pulled myself to standing. "You're so good," he whispers. "Crowley…"
"No I'm not, Baz. Don't say that."
"It's okay, Simon," he says gently. "You can't help if your magic gets away from you sometimes. I'm sure you didn't mean to spell me unconscious."
"I—"
"And even if you did," he carries on kindly, "I'd forgive you. I haven't actually given you reason to feel otherwise."
He's flushing pale pink. It's unsettling, seeing him so flustered.
"I think I'm still spelled…" He stares at the chocolate box, then his eyes are back on mine. They've got that calculating look he always gets when he watches me during class.
He's found me out already? But I haven't figured out who he's in love with yet!
His voice softens as my magic rolls off me. "Do you remember what spell it was?"
"I—I don't know." It's true; Gareth was shifty about the whole thing.
"That's fine, darling," he says, still gentler than before. I choke on my own spit, sending me into a coughing fit. Baz is beside me in an instant, eyes wide as saucers, gripping my shoulders.
"Simon?" His eyes are wild. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry—"
"Baz, you didn't… are you crying?"
He sniffles. "No."
"Baz…"
He seems to be talking himself down from a freakout. "Your heartbeat's okay. Good."
"How can you—"
"You're not feverish. Are you feverish? Your lungs sound fine—"
"Baz, I just choked on my spit. Worse things have happened to me."
His eyes well up. "I know."
"Baz."
He's full-on sobbing now. "The hydra and the low-dra and the chimera—"
"That was yours."
He's almost wailing now. I've tried not to laugh but I'm practically beaming. He's so…
So…
Cute. His lip is pouting and his eyes are soft and if he were in actual distress, I'd be more concerned. But he seems just to be upset about me and that's…
Oh. He's stopped crying, gasping a little as he gets control of his breath. He seems to be mesmerized by something. Do I have something on my face?
"You smiled at me," he says softly. Like I've cured world hunger or something.
But it's… the tone of his voice is doing things to me. Gushy, happy things.
I don't have the heart to say that it wasn't really a romantic situation. I'm not sure why; normally I'd jump on this apparent weakness and—
Wait. Romantic? Is he—
No. No no no, that's stupid. My brain is full of lies and deceit.
Surely not…
"I—yeah, I did," I choke out.
He sighs. And normally I'd associate that with frustration, but the way his eyes are lit up tells a different story.
I just…
I want…
I need an outside opinion.
As I start walking toward the door, Baz leaps to action and starts following me, like I used to.
"What are you doing?" I'm instantly on guard.
He looks chastened. "Following you. Or—wait, no, no I'm not, I just. Also need to vacate the premises at this juncture."
"Right… why are you really?"
"I—I don't want you to leave." He's using that soft tone again, the one that sounds on the verge of breaking.
"Oh. Well, I was just going to… talk to Penny."
"No!" He grabs my wrist, breaths coming quicker. "She'll know."
"Know… what?"
He glares at me, though it looks leagues fonder under the light of his dancing eyes. "I know what you're doing."
My hands start to sweat. "Baz, look, I didn't mean—"
"You're trying to get me to admit stuff to you because you always do that." He's standing close to me. "And you're going to start looking through my windows again and watching me sleep and reporting back to The Mage."
He sounds both broken and hopeful. It's the most confusing thing.
I shake my head. "I'm not gonna watch you sleep."
He laughs, but it's a fractured laugh. The one that escaped him when he was drunk in the Catacombs three nears ago.
"Oh, good. That was the one I was most afraid of. Crowley, you're beautiful." He says it distractedly, like it slipped out without his permission.
"You don't—you're lying to me."
I feel like I'm going to cry. None of this is right and I've ruined everything and—
Soft, cool hands are cupping my face. "All right?" Baz whispers.
I lean into his touch, my breath hitching. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
He hums sadly. "Can't be helped. I just… I just don't want you to hate me anymore."
My heart implodes. I start crying harder.
It's not like he's been a saint all these years. But have I really been so selfish? Have I been calling this boy a villain for the past seven years?
"Can you—can you—you—"
"Breathe, Simon. It's all right."
I'm going to replay those words whenever I feel like going off. I can almost guarantee they'll work every time.
"Can you call me that thing again?" I whisper.
He smiles understandingly and strokes my cheek. "Darling," he breathes. It's practically a song in his voice.
I lean against his hand and he rubs at my tears. "I've hurt you so many times," he says.
I laugh. "Nothing I can't handle. 'Cept the stairs. That was rude."
He throws back his head like he's beseeching the ceiling for support. "I didn't push you! I was trying to catch you. And besides, I didn't know my strength. I had just Turned—"
His face goes impossibly grayer. He shakes his head like his mouth has betrayed him, and I can hear his breaths kicking up.
Normally, I would crow in triumph. I'd parade around the school, marching to the beat of I-told-you-so.
But I won't do that anymore. I couldn't.
"Turned sixteen?" I say shakily. Trying to smile. "Puberty, yeah? Very confusing."
Baz's cool composure comes back, but not without relief flooding his eyes. "Yes. It makes monsters of us all."
And now his eyes are sparkling like we're sharing a joke and I'm laughing because it's so absurd, this game we're playing, and he's looking happy again, mouth hanging open, and I'd smile at him every day, I think, if I could see that radiant look.
"I have something to tell you."
"What is it, love?"
My knees go weak and I slump into my chair with a loud groan. "Stop saying that."
"But I thought you wanted me to?"
"I do, but it doesn't feel right. It's not—you're not."
"I already know you don't love me back," Baz says gently.
And I can't—my head settles against my chest. I'm breathing too fast.
"I don't expect anything from you. Too many do. I only wanted you to know."
"How can you be so calm about this?" I'm practically buzzing.
He curls his lip. "Please. I've loved you for three years. One gets accustomed to certain things after a time."
I can barely follow what he's saying. "But—but Baz, I spelled you."
A tiny voice reminds me that the spell doesn't create untruths. It amplifies. It encourages.
"I already know that. I've been a little dizzy. And I wouldn't have eaten those chocolates in front of you. They smelled like—" He catches himself, fear plain on his face.
I'm a monster. I'm a liar who's taken advantage of a spell and the worst part is that I actually want to know what he's going to say.
But I think I know.
"Me?" I whisper.
His face breaks. Shatters like a mason jar. "I'm sorry," he pleads. "I never would've hurt you. I just wanted—"
"I know." And suddenly I'm next to him again, watching the tells I'd never picked up before—the curl of his shoulders, the lilt of his lashes.
"Can I hug you?"
He breathes out on what can only be described as a squeal. It makes me want to smile, but I manage to keep it together. "Yes, yes, Merlin yes."
I pull him into my arms. Both of them, mind you—no need to be stingy. He makes a choked little sound and melts against me, head falling to my shoulder, cool breath ruffling my hair. I lean down and kiss his head. Just once, and softly.
He makes another soft sound. I give him a squeeze before letting go, utterly confused. Unsure what to think. I let my instincts lead but now I don't know why they went down that path and I don't want to think about what that means, how I must feel for Baz based on those actions and—
He's looking up at me with fluttering hope in his eyes.
"You don't have to feel guilty," I whisper, even as remorse makes itself at home in my gut. "It's okay to want."
He winds his arms around me and cries softly, brokenly, until he's fallen asleep, his chin propped on the sharp jut of my shoulder. Like a child after a long day.
I pet his hair and let him cling to me while my mind spins fruitlessly around moments and words and actions and meanings.
Baz Pitch is in love with me. Baz Pitch is hurting. Baz Pitch is sorry.
None of these things should be true.
He whimpers as if in a nightmare and rubs his forehead against my neck. It's cold, he's too cold.
I hold him closer without thinking about why.
And things start to make sense to me. The way I used to fume when he wasn't looking at me. How I was always annoyed by the way his hair fell in front of his face. It's been nagging at me for years, this feeling, and now I'm finally holding it up to a magnifying glass and wrapping my mind around it.
Baz Pitch… loves me?
Me?
It confirms what I worried about earlier, that he never really wanted Agatha. But I don't think Agatha ever really wanted him.
Am I angry at him? Of course. But his actions are starting to make sense.
I might've done the same, if it were Baz and Agatha. Been insanely jealous, wondered what she had that I didn't, tried to start something just so he'd look at me. Although I'd definitely target my wrath on Baz Pitch himself.
He's always been a passive one, though. Never very blunt, always approaching problems at an angle.
I wonder what he'll do to me if he finds out.
When. He's stirring as we speak.
He wraps an arm tighter around me, turning his face further into my neck and making a sound that I can only describe as cuddly. I want to wrap him up in twenty blankets and kiss him—
Wait.
What?
I don't have time to dwell, because he's starting to realize the situation. The happy cooing is quickly being replaced by sharp breaths.
He wrenches himself from my grip so abruptly that we both tumble to the floorboards. "Baz!" I shout, just as he meets my gaze with those deepwater grays of his, now more storm than gentle rain.
"Snow," he says darkly.
And, yeah, I'm gonna die.
"Baz…" I say coaxingly.
I think I can handle this. I'm about thirty-five percent sure.
"You spelled me," he snarls, and I feel my rage tick up out of habit before taking a deep breath. It's not going to help anything.
"I tried to tell you," I say weakly.
"Not hard enough." He's already started making his escape.
"Baz," I whisper. He doesn't stop. "Baz… honey."
He whirls. "What do you—"
"Wait, wait! Just listen." I'm resisting the urge to kiss him right this moment. But I know that won't work the way my words will.
"Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you for making me feel loved. I—I wish I had seen it before. And that I had understood my feelings. I'm not—Baz, please, just—I'm not using this against you. I'll forget it ever happened if you want. We can cast a memory spell."
"Gladly," he snarls.
"But first!" I'm practically yelling. I take a quick breath, conjuring his soft voice to calm me. "I just—i'm—"
"Spit it out, Snow."
But all I can hear is his love. Even as the spell's worn off, even as he's glaring at me.
I smile at him. And I watch his face shift from suspicion to hurt to disbelief.
"Still works," I whisper before crossing the space between us.
He looks at me, and I see the way he's brimming with confusion and yearning and need. A sadness so deep it aches.
I take his face in my hands. "You're beautiful, Baz Pitch," I whisper, watching as he shivers and closes his eyes at my touch.
"Snow." His voice is heavy. A stone dragging him down.
I lift his chin. "I want to be kinder to you. I might not be good at it but I want—I want you to be happy all the time. And if I can make you happy, I want that."
He tugs away from me, and I let him. "I'm not another of your charity cases, Snow."
It's something of a concession. A nudge toward the truth. He's not denying it, which is a start. But I think I can set him straight on this one.
"I'm happy to go back to the way we were," I say tentatively, "if that would make you feel better. But I'd rather get to have you and—say nice things to each other. And eat unlaced chocolates."
"Snow!" He's spluttering again, but there's that gorgeous flush to his cheeks this time.
"I'm really sorry." My heart is in my throat. "I'm so sorry, Baz. I should never have done all those things to you."
"Better that than nothing at all," he whispers. Finally coming back to himself.
I almost reach out to touch his cheek before catching myself. That will come later, if I'm lucky. "You deserve better. So much better. Like you were telling me earlier, remember?"
He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Snow. Clear as day."
"Do you… still want to? Kiss me, and be in love with me? Because it could be that Gareth told me wrong about the spell."
I see him getting ready to shut down. Lock himself up and ridicule me until I regret ever having seen him spelled. But instead, he pauses to look up at me.
"And what do you want, Snow? Do you want to be called darling? Do you—want me?"
His voice is small again, almost hopeless. I can barely find my breath.
"Yes," I blurt out. "Yes, all of that. Please."
He stares up at me and before I know it, he's laughing silently.
"What?" I square my shoulders like I'm bracing for a fight. "What's so funny, Pitch?"
"Just that I never could've thought it would be this easy," he whispers. And then he's leaning into me.
He tastes like chocolate.