"I figured it out!" Simon bursts into the room, radiating like a sun and yelling like he's the only person in the universe.
"Why in Merlin's name are you yelling like you're at a hockey game?" I reply to his yodeling.
He stomps over to me, stopping right in front of my face, with that big, idiot smile he's so used to showing me. I love it. I love everything about the present time. Being at his apartment with Penny, even if it's empty, it feels so nice to be able to walk in so casually. Waking up in the morning to his sleeping face, & you'd think Simon Snow looks less flattering in the morning, right after waking up, but no, he looks like a freaking angel, halo & all. I could get used to this. I could get used to anything if it's with Simon. Used to him making breakfast & getting the newspaper from outside; used to him and Penny fighting over who gets the big bed because I'm sleeping over; used to him waking up to me, all smiles, and stopping right in front of me to tell me some good news. Used to-
"I'm not gay!" he yells.
Wait, what?
He's not gay?
He's not gay.
Ouch.
Right when I was fantasizing about growing old together. Damn me.
He keeps rambling about something else, throwing his arms in the air in front of him rapidly. I can't hear a word of it though. I don't want to hear about how he's going to have to move all my stuff out, how he probably wants all his stuff back, I think he might even mention something about Agatha. I don't know, I'm not listening, and my heart is beating too loud and too painful to hear anything at all. So he finally figured out he doesn't actually like me? He figured out that what happened that day in that burning forest was some sort of confusion. Something to do with his hormones, I'm sure. His therapist probably went over it with him already.
Wait, this isn't the last time I see him right? I can't live without actually being around Simon, even as a friend, an enemy? Screw it, I'll take anything at this point. I can't remember the time of my life before him, all of that is just a blur. But after living with Simon for so many years, it's kind of impossible to breathe without him.
"Simon, can we still be friends?"
"Oh," he says.
Oh, is his damn response.
"Sure," he says.
He sounds so disappointed, like he was expecting me to vanish into thin air as soon as he had given the news. I want to punch him. I want to punch myself a lot more. Thank Wizards I'm good at holding myself together, otherwise I'd be rolling around in a puddle of my own lame tears by now.
"Phone me." I say, because I'm weak. Because I'm a constant disappointment to myself. Because I love to hear Simon Snow's voice.
"Sure." He says, again. Like it's going to sound nicer this time. I can't even look him in the eyes. I can't stand being near him. I can't stand him being so close and me not being able to touch him, hold his hand.
That's it. I'm out. I walk over to my jacket on the couch as fast as I can, grab it and leave. I can hear him saying "bye", but I can't even stand breathing the same air as him. I think I need another world to live on. This one is too full of Simon Snow.
And so now it's been a month since Simon broke up with me, and the bastard still hasn't phoned me. Was I supposed to phone him? "Oh yeah, hey Simon, I know you said you'd call me but you haven't done that and not hearing your voice for this long has taken me near insanity, so just, you know, ring when you can before I burn my house down."
That would possibly scar him. I can't do that.
My life for the past four weeks has been a mixture of waiting for Simon's call and playing violin, everything else sort of mixes together. Merlin, I'm pathetic. What am I? A sixteen year old girl who just got rejected by her crush? I'm a freakin vampire for fuck's sake. I suck blood out of rats then cry myself to sleep over a boy with freckles.
I have to admit, it's sort of a good thing he hasn't called. One word over the phone would send me flying into another rage of tears, sweat and self-hatred. It's not like I expected a call from him anyway (even though I was hoping for one), it would be too awkwardly painful for him. It would be a lot better if I just never saw or heard about him, that way I wouldn't-
Ring.
You've got to be kidding me.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Now I'm really going to burn the house down.
Simon fucking Snow is calling me, and I don't know if I should answer my phone or throw it out the window. I think about the possibility of my phone shattering into a thousand pieces on the lawn outside and me never having to deal with this stupid, insensitive boy even again. But then I click the green phone icon on my screen to answer and hold the phone up to my ear. Someone needs to stop me because I cannot stop myself when it comes to Simon.
"Snow," I say, trying to sound cool and laid back and not at all like I was considering the destruction of my own house.
"Hey, Baz," his voice sounds shaky, which does not help my will power. "Err, we need to talk. Can I see you?"
For the life of me, I do not want to see Simon anytime soon. I am not even fully prepared for this conversation over the phone and he wants to see me. Like hell I'm going to let that happen.
"You know I keep myself occupied, Snow," I say, which is a downright lie. But that's okay, I've shed more tears in the last month than I've done in my entire life before that, I think I deserve a little kick back.
"Yes I know I just, uh, I really wanted to talk, it's uh, important," gosh I hate it when he stumbles, it's my weakness, "and I uh, I just really wanted to see you."
I stay silent, because how am I even supposed to reply to that? I can feel my eyes instinctively roll to the back of my head. I slap my forehead with the palm of my hand because Simon Snow does that to me, he makes me stressed.
I sigh, "alright Snow," I try my best not to sound like I'm desperate for anything Simon has to offer, "I'll spare you a bit of my time. When and where?" He gives me a place, date and time, and I write it down feeling defeated and self-destructive once more. We hang up after saying our awkward goodbyes, and I lay back on my bed wishing I had gotten any other roommate in the world.
Simon would pick the noisiest and most crowded coffee shop in the area, maybe he's afraid I'll murder him out of pure spite. I might murder him just because he's set us up in such an obnoxious place. There are high school girls and boys at one corner, and retired seniors on the other, I don't think this is an appropriate place to talk about these things. But that's where the problem lies, I have no idea what Simon wants to talk about. If it's anything about the breakup he should have said it on the phone, I wish he would have just done that and be over with it, I can't handle this tension. If all he wants is to cut ties with me it would have been ten times easier over a phone call, I say that because if he actually says something like that to my face I might attack him. Or kiss him. Who knows? I don't.
Interrupting my thoughts, Simon barges in through the front door, huffing and puffing and all, like he's just been through a storm. We make eye contact and he walks over to me.
He makes the effort to smile the smallest smile possible, "hi" he says sheeply.
"Hey."
Gosh, this is going to be harder than I thought.
He takes a seat in front of me, and I already feel like running away. He just sits there, with his bronze skin and curled hair, practically glowing. He looks uncomfortable in his seat, it burns me to think he actually has to make an effort to be here. Being around him used to feel so careless, now it feels like carrying a bag of bricks.
"Baz," he says in a tone I wish he wouldn't use.
"Snow."
We sit there in awkward silence for what feels like forever. After a few torturous moments, he starts to speak again.
"Listen Baz, I know you don't want to be here, doing this, but I can't take it," he bites his lower lip, goddamn him, "I can't just end it like this."
Now that just angers me. Of course he doesn't want to end it like this, it's cruel and heartless and so not Simon Snow. So here he is, and here I am, to make him feel as if he doesn't have to carry the guilt of being the first and only guy to ever break my sad, lifeless heart. It infuriates me. I am not going to give him that pleasure. He should at least feel bad for ruining me.
"Well Snow, it is what it is. And unlike you, I wish you wouldn't dwell on it too much. It's not good for your hero heart."
That was a low blow, I know because Simon's face contorts in a way that is painful to watch. He hates it when we talk about his 'hero' days, about the time when he was the Chosen One rather than the half dragon, half boy he is now.
Sadness is replaced with anger in his eyes, and his red cheeks do nothing to disguise it. "Baz, I'm not like you. You can't just break up with me and expect me to move on like the last year didn't happen."
My eyes open so wide I think my eyeballs might fall out of their sockets.
I broke up with Simon?
That is not what happened on my calendar.
He sits there with his arms crossed over his chest, looking the other way, trying to hide his incredibly red face and frowning eyebrows.
"Wait," somewhere, I find my voice again, "wait, no, you broke up with me, Simon, not the other way around."
He turns his head so quick I think he might have pulled something in the process. His eyes are big and his brows raised in shock, he uncrosses his arms.
"No, no, no. You broke up with me, Baz. You said you were leaving."
"Because you said you weren't gay."
Somehow, in an impossible manner, his eyes grow bigger and his jaw drops just the slightest bit. The look of true disbelief on his face tells me his shock is honest.
Simon Snow is going to be the death of me, honestly.
"Of course I'm not gay," he says, looking like it's an obvious statement.
I huff out loud and through my arms in the air; we can't really be doing this right now, he can't be serious. Expect he is, because he is Simon and he's always making me exhausted like this.
"Simon," I say, "I don't know if you've noticed by now, but I am a man. A gay man, that is, so I'm not sure how you and I dating equals to you being straight. What part of the equation exactly am I missing?"
"I'm not straight."
Okay that's it, I've had enough of Simon Snow for today, "I'm leaving."
"No," Simon says, and he grabs my wrist before I can get up, which is a bad, bad move, because I haven't had any physical contact with Simon in over a month, which is the longest time since we started dating, and it's sends shocks through my spine and makes me dizzy.
I quickly snatch my arm away from him. My head is pounding with too many thoughts at once.
"You're impossible," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes, sitting back down on the chair.
"Yea, but not really," he says, almost calm.
I look up at him, frustrated because that is exactly what Simon is and always will be, impossible.
"You're not straight but you're not gay. You broke up with me but I broke up with you. You're impossible but not really. Okay, Simon, then what the hell are you?"
"Bi."
"What?"
"I'm bi."
All the blood in my body evaporates, considering it's not even that much. All the idiocy in the world has gathered in one human being and that human being happens to be Simon Snow. Someone is going to have to help this boy, and I guess that someone is going to have to be me.
"You're bi," I repeat.
"Yes."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I pinch the bridge of my nose again, harder this time, like I'm trying to rip it off, "you couldn't have bothered telling me that before I stormed out of your apartment and spent a month crying like a newborn?"
"You were crying?" He says with this awfully sad tone, looking at me like I've ran over his foot.
"It was a metaphor Snow, a metaphor," I lie.
Before I know it Simon is holding my wrist again, even though I'm not going anywhere.
"I did Baz, I tried telling you. I tried telling you that the therapist had helped me figure it out, that I'm on neither side of the spectrum, I'm not gay or straight, but you just stood there looking frozen, and then you left. I thought that had made you stop liking me," he says that with his eyes wide open, looking at me with the most sincere look you can give someone, saying those words so softly it feels like I'm dreaming, holding my wrist, speaking in a plotted attempted at stopping my heart from beating.
I heave out and glare at the boy who's part time dragon, part time human and full time annoyance. I couldn't have made a bigger mistake when I fell for this moron. I glare at him, then look away and glare at the floor next to me, because I can't handle saying what I am going to say next while looking at him, "how could I possibly stop liking you? I love you, you idiot." I feel my face flush with heat as I glare impossibly hard at the wooden floor.
"Baz," I hear Simon huff out in something that is more of a breath than a word, and he stands up so quick it almost sends the table flying onto the couple next to us, all the while holding my wrist, which he hasn't let go of for reasons only he and God know.
I look up at him and instantly wonder why I pain myself like this, because when I look at Simon and his wide eyes, curly hair, and bronze skin, standing there looking ready to run off into the sunset, it pains me deeply. It hurts when I look at him, and it hurts when I don't.
He walks around the table he nearly knocked over and stands in front of me, him and his whole self now beaming.
"God, I'm never breaking up with you," he says.
"Good," I say, trying hard to hide my embarrassed and flushed face by looking at our suddenly incredibly interesting shoes. Thank Merlin the people around us haven't paid any attention to our idiocy, because I feel like my head might burst off of my neck any moment now.
"And you're never breaking up with me," he continues, and I think about the many damages Simon Snow has caused to my heart and body alike.
"Don't count on it," I mumble, because now Simon is hovering over me, leaning so close that it feels like he wants to merge into the same person, right here, right now, in the middle of this lousy coffee shop.
A smile creeps its way towards the edges of his mouth and once it's in full effect, which is a killer move, I watch as the corners of his eyes crinkle and the middle of his eyebrows raise on his forehead.
So there I am, watching this whole fiasco happen, knowing I can't handle any of it, knowing I can never handle any of Simon Snow, when he says, "I love you too." And he lets go of my wrist.
And I think to myself, if I could kiss him and kill him at the same time, I would. Maybe I could, but I don't. Instead I stare daggers into our shoes and feel my whole body turn warm.
"Let's go home," he says, and starts walking towards the exit of that awful coffee shop. And like the lovestruck idiot that I am, I follow. And I always will, for Simon Snow.