Disclaimer: These characters and their background are the invention of Rainbow Rowell.
The Real Simon Snow
A Simon & Baz Fanfiction
"Crowley Snow, do you have to be so bloody loud?" Baz asked, his gray eyes filled with annoyance.
Simon turned around and made eye contact with Baz: the warm blue ocean looking into a cold and cloudy sky. "Not all of us are satisfied with simply passing our classes," Simon snapped.
"Not all of us have to study in order to pass," Baz retorted, a sly grin barely perceptible on his lips. Simon didn't notice it, but simply turned back around and continued reciting spells from his textbook. He made it halfway down the page before Baz once again interrupted the silence.
"Do you ever have any fun, Snow?"
Simon tried to come up with something exciting he'd done lately but his mind was saturated in spells, potion recipes, and due dates for upcoming assignments. Finally, he was able to think of something. "As a matter of fact," Simon argued, "I went to the Love Potion dance last week."
"Snow, you were head of the dance committee. All you did was organized and clean up. That hardly counts as fun," Baz said.
"Since when do you care how much fun I have?" Simon asked.
"Just because we're enemies doesn't mean I have to condone your constant seriousness."
"In case you've forgotten, my destiny is to destroy the Humdrum before it destroys magic. Life-threatening destinies are usually very serious," Simon said.
Baz couldn't stifle a laugh at this. "Believe me brave and valiant Snow, no one has forgotten that. You won't let anyone forget."
Simon was confused—but also intrigued. Since when did he and Baz talk? Albeit, the present conversation wasn't too pleasant, but the now absent silence was deafening. "Baz, what exactly are we doing right now?"
"Well you see Snow, it's this thing called 'conversation'," he mocked, making air quotes around conversation. "I know you're used to having everyone listen to you, but sometimes it's nice to have a back-and-forth talk going." Baz knew what Simon meant, but he loved being the cause of the slight blush that always appeared whenever Simon was annoyed.
"But why do you suddenly want to chat with me?" Simon asked. "You can barely stand the sound of my voice."
"I never said that."
"After every speech I make as president of Magic Council, you comment on how 'bloody wretched' I sound."
"Well that's when you're trying to impress everyone, especially the Mage. You're not the same in front of that podium as you are in here," Baz said.
Is he saying he likes me when we're here together? Simon thought. Then he said to Baz, "I don't think I act any different. And if I do, it is definitely not to impress the Mage."
Baz took a deep breath before he replied. He knew that what he was about to say would change everything, but regardless of the consequences, he had to get the words out of him. Sooner or later, they would drive him mad.
"Out there you're Simon Snow: defender of Watford, destined defeater of the Humdrum, the guy who is too high up on the magician totem-pole to bother with lowly guys like me," he said, adding on a mock air of peasantry to the last bit.
"Am I really like that?" Simon asked, a melancholy realization covering his face.
By this time, Baz had slowly made his way over to the edge of Simon's bed and was facing him, Simon still sitting at his desk.
"No, Snow. You just pretend to be like that."
Why do I pretend to be that way? Simon asked himself.
Baz examined Simon's face carefully, watching him search for the answer to the question Baz knew he must be asking. He noticed how Simon's eyebrows scrunched together, making his foreheard wrinkle. His searching blue eyes moved from the left to the right side of the dark wooden floor of their dorm room. Baz knew when Simon found the answer when his gaze went from the floor to Baz's eyes and locked themselves there.
Simon spoke with a voice full of relief and disappointment. "That's what everyone has always told me I was."
Baz nodded and added, "They told you what they wanted you to be, not who you are."
"And who exactly is that? I'm not even sure I know."
"I think that's a question you need to answer yourself, Snow."
Simon solemnly nodded, still staring into Baz's eyes—the eyes that Simon had always thought were aflame with hatred for him, now seemed aglow with understanding. Their entire conversation was confusing to Simon, not simply because of it's content but it's mere existence.
Simon felt vulnerable. Someone was able to see through pretenses that he himself didn't even know existed. That was the last thing he wanted Baz, his enemy, to see. The scariest thing was, Baz didn't feel like his enemy. Maybe that was part of the act too: he'd always been told that Baz was his mortal enemy, so he believed it. Come to think of it, Baz had never actually done anything malicious to Simon or anyone else for that matter.
"How do I answer it?" Simon asked, breaking the silence.
"I think I can help you with that, if you'd like," Baz said, his heart beating thick at the anticipation of Simon's answer.
"I think I'd like that," Simon answered, a content smile spreading across his face.