"You're such a bloody asshole!"
Baz struggles not to wince; that's not a particularly pleasant image.
"Coming from a moron such as yourself, I hope you won't mind if I take that with a grain of salt."
He leans back slightly on his bed, watching as Simon, sitting at the desk, clearly fights the urge to punch him. Baz probably shouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he is, but Simon's face really does look nice flushed.
"I don't—" Simon finally says, seeming surprisingly sincere. "I genuinely don't understand how you have any friends. Unless," he continues, now with a smirk that doesn't suit him in the least, "your rich daddy paid for them to pretend to like you, which he probably did."
"Better that than a father who can't even spare the time to talk to you," Baz says, sneering, because that comment actually did hurt, the way it always hurts when Simon makes a comment about how unlovable he is.
Simon jumps up from the chair. "Never missed a chance to hit someone below the belt, have you?"
"Not when you make it so easy for me."
Simon sits back down, rolls his eyes. "Love you too," he says, and it's biting and caustic, and Baz can't quite breathe, suddenly. Sarcastic, he tries to remind himself, and Simon is waiting for a response, waiting for a comeback, and Baz is trying to control his face, which he knows must look stunned, because shit he's fucked but all he can hear is love you too and he needs to respond, Simon is starting to look concerned—
"I, uh," Baz coughs. "Go to hell."
"Already there," Simon says with a smug little smile that means that he prepared that one beforehand, and Baz loves him so much he thinks he's going to die from it.
Simon waits for a moment, but Baz is still obviously out of commission. Simon shrugs, collects his bag, and is out the door in the next moment, presumably to visit Bunce in the library.
Baz, meanwhile, takes another fifteen minutes to collect himself. Love you too, he can't help but repeat to himself. God, this is pathetic: his crush is pathetic, and he's pathetic, but he can't help the smile that affixes himself to his face that refuses to disappear for the rest of the day.