Baz
"Then I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss each other."
Their lips collided, slowly and steady, they didn't want to make a whole scene in front of their families and friends. It was just a little kiss, but it was their first kiss as a married couple. And they both enjoyed it as much as the other kisses they had shared.
Baz felt the weight of the ring around his finger, he loved it. He had been waiting so long for this moment, much longer than Simon. And the idea of calling him his 'husband', made Baz the happiest person on earth.
Suddenly, a song had started to play and he found himself on the dance floor, dancing with Snow. It was one of his favorite songs: 'A Thousand Years'.
Baz lead Simon, since the golden-haired boy was pretty bad at dancing, specially at slowing. Simon let his head rest on Baz's chest for the entire song, until the end. When the song was over, he lifted his head to look at the taller boy.
"You know," Simon said. "The song is a lie."
Baz's heart stopped beating and he froze in his steps, backing away from him.
Simon didn't really love him, he knew it.
He looked at Snow, who still had a smile on his face. The smaller boy came closer to him, hugging Baz.
"The song is a lie, because I won't love you for a thousand years…"
A tear fell down on Baz's cheek. He knew it. He fucking knew it. Simon didn't love him. Why would he love him.
"Baz - no, Baz - let me finish my sentence before you start crying, you idiot," Simon laughed and wiped the tears off Baz's face.
"As I said, I won't love you for a thousand years. I will love you for all eternity. I will love you until I die, and even after that I won't stop loving you. I will love you forever, Baz."
Baz was crying again, but this time out of happiness and love. He grabbed Simon's face gently with both hands, and planted a deep kiss on his husband's soft lips.
Baz was happy.
And then he woke up.
—
Snow was snoring. Again.
It always woke him up from his dreams. And tonight was no different. He had been so happy in the dream, he wanted to keep the feeling. But of course, dreams weren't real. They were just formed by your brain to make your life miserable and even harder than it already is. Better to forget about the dream, he decided. It would make it easier to deal with.
Bloody hell, how was Baz supposed to sleep if Snow kept making those noises? He had an important test the next day and if he wanted to stay first of the class, he needed his sleep. If he failed that test, Bunce would most definitely take advantage of it and maybe she would even beat him.
That couldn't happen. Pitches didn't lose. Never.
Crowley, how was it even possible for someone to snore that loud? Baz wanted to stand up, walk over to his part of the room and smack him in the face with his pillow. Anything to keep him quiet, anything.
Baz would even roll him over on his side, go lay next to him and put his arms around Snow's waist. Just to keep him quiet.
But, of course, he didn't do any of that. He was afraid of waking him up, and of him staring at Baz with his fucking ordinary blue eyes, asking what he was doing.
Crowley, he didn't even know why he'd do that. Or maybe he did..
So he didn't do anything. Instead, Baz just pushed himself up on his elbows. Not to get a better view on Snow, just to get in a more comfortable position. (At least that was what he was telling himself).
Baz tried to keep himself from looking at him, but he couldn't ignore him. He's too loud. (And too gorgeous).
He glanced over at his roommate, and saw the moonlight dance over his face. He shouldn't be torturing himself with staring at him, but Baz just couldn't help it. He was so bright, like the sun. You couldn't just look away, act like it didn't existed.
Snow was laying on his back, peacefully drooling with an open mouth. His curls were spread over his pillow, like golden cotton. Baz wanted to reach out and touch it, twirl it around his fingers.
Just to know what it feels like. To touch those curls, to touch him. Nothing else.
He let out a sigh. Why did the universe hate him? Setting him up with the hottest, cutest, most irritating yet charming boy Baz knew. As a roommate.
And it definitely didn't help that he had a huge crush on him.
—
Simon was the first person to talk to him on this campus. Everybody just ignored him, probably because they saw Baz as the 'emo kid'. He just liked the color black, what was so wrong about it? It fitted nicely with his skin color too, like he just walked out of an old movie.
Everybody stared at him, but nobody talked to him. Except his roommate. Except Snow.
Baz had signed up for a single room, because he didn't like to talk to people. He just wanted to lay on his bed and read books. Silly romance books. Because he loved romance, even though he had never experienced it before.
But since the universe hated him, he'd gotten a double room. And he had to share it with Snow. Just his luck.
At first, he'd thought maybe they'd run out of single rooms, and they had just given him a double room for his own. But then he'd entered the room, and he was faced with the most beautiful boy he had ever seen.
"Hi! I'm your roommate, Simon. Nice to meet you!" Simon had said, a wide smile on his face, holding out his arm to shake Baz's hand.
Baz, flustered and astonished by the appearance of his roommate, had frozen in his steps and stared at the person in his room. He hadn't expected somebody to be in there, and definitely not someone like Snow.
In a reflex, he'd wanted to shake Simon's hand, but he couldn't break down the walls he had been building for the past years since his mother passed away.
Instead, he'd said "Fuck off" with a sneer and dropped down on his bed. And that was by far the nicest conversation they'd had during the two years they've been sharing a room.
—
Mostly, they ignored each other, and they were only together in the same room at night. During the day, and when there were no classes to attend, Snow spent his time outside their room, studying with Bunce and his girlfriend Wellbelove. (Yes, Snow had a girlfriend)(Unbelievable).
Baz always stayed in their room, studying or reading, unless Simon was there. Then he would run off to the library. Because he hated him.
He hated him for being so annoying, dumb, cute, handsome, lovable and…. straight.
One time when they had been lying in bed at night, both not able to sleep, Simon (who was a little drunk from some stupid party) had asked him: "B-Baz, ar-are you st-straighttt?".
His heart had stopped for a second, wondering why he would be interested in that. It was probably because he had wanted to make fun of him.
"Yes," Baz had said. Straight as a fucking noodle. Straight as Snow's fucking hair. He was only half lying. But Snow wouldn't remember it, he was too drunk.
"What about you?" He'd looked at him, clearly visible in the moonlight.
"Dunno, I guesssss," Snow had said, shrugging.
A few moments later, when Baz had wanted to ask more about it, he'd heard snoring coming from Simon's side of the room. Great.
Simon
Simon didn't snore. At least that's what Agatha had told him. Sometimes, when he had enough of Baz's hateful glares and unspoken words, he escaped to Agatha's room. Her roommate, Philippa, had become very ill last year, so she had to quit college. That was why Agatha had a spare bed in her room.
There was a rule that boys and girls were in separate dorms and weren't allowed in each others rooms at night, but Simon hadn't been caught so far. Besides, it didn't occur that often, maybe once a week, but not more than that. He didn't know what the punishment was for breaking that rule, but he wasn't eager to find out.
Of course he always slept in the spare bed, and not with Agatha. He respected his girlfriend's personal space. She didn't like acts of affection that involved touching that much, like hugging or kissing.
They had only kissed once, and they both agreed not to do that again. Simon hadn't disliked kissing her, she was his girlfriend after all. It was nice, but the spark just hadn't been there. Agatha had told him she'd rather held hands.
Anyway, Simon didn't like Baz's staring, full of hate, so once a week he spent the night at Agatha's. But not today.
She had asked him not to come over, because she had a lot of work. Simon figured she needed some space. Which he wouldn't mind, if he didn't have to share his room with that handsome devil.
Baz had long, silky black hair that reached to his shoulders. He often wore it in a bun, which made Simon weak in his knees, because he hated him, of course.
His skin was pale, with a touch of olive. He had once told Simon that he was partly Egyptian.
Simon didn't want to hate Baz, he just wanted to be friends. But for some reason, Baz didn't allow that. He rather hated Simon. He wanted to find out why, but he was afraid of asking. He would probably just ignore the question too.
—
It was night, around 3 am, Simon guessed. There was no clock in their room, because the ticking noise made Baz irritated. Also, Baz had once thrown their clock at his head, and then it was broken. That was probably the reason.
Simon had forgotten why Baz had hurled it at him. It was presumably something stupid Simon had said. He always said stupid things when Baz was around, he couldn't control it.
Simon had woken up from a sound outside. Sounded like yelling. Probably some first years getting into trouble, nothing new.
He looked over to Baz's side, wondering if he'd woken up too. But no, Baz was peacefully sleeping, his chest slowly rising up and down. The only time he saw Baz this calm was when he was sleeping.
He liked looking at him, it made him feel safe. He didn't like Baz when he was awake, he even hated him then. (Or he tried to).
But when he was sleeping, Simon liked him. A lot. But not like-like of course. He wasn't in love with him, he wasn't gay. He had a girlfriend for Crowley's sake.
As Simon watched Baz in the moonlight, he saw he was wearing earphones. Had he been listening to music?
Simon pushed himself up until he sat up and looked closer.
Yup, Baz was definitely listening to music. He had probably fallen asleep while listening.
Simon was curious what kind of music Baz liked. He seemed like someone who'd listen to punk rock all the time. With his black hair and black clothing, which fitted him perfectly of course. Baz could get away with anything, even if he dyed his hair pink or blue, he would still look like a prince.
Simon swung his legs to the side of his bed and pushed himself off with his arms until he stood next to his bed. He walked over to his roommate's bed and squatted down besides Baz's head. He slowed his breathing and tried to make as little sound as possible - he didn't want to wake him up.
Carefully, he tucked a lock of Baz's hair behind his ear, because it was in the way. Not because he wanted to, obviously.
It was so soft, Simon was surprised. He always thought it would feel different, not so smooth, silky and even fluffy. It certainly didn't look fluffy, but it felt like it.
He quickly shook off those thoughts and stretched his hand out towards Baz's right earphone. He gently took it out of his ear and moved it towards his ear. But the wire wasn't long enough, he had to move his head closer towards Baz's head.
Holding his breath, he moved the left side of his face to his roommate's right side - almost ear to ear. Almost touching.
Then, Simon put the earphone in his right ear and listened to the song that was playing.
Baz
This wasn't happening, this was just a dream. Snow was not next to him, he hadn't touched his hair.
Just a dream.
Just don't open your eyes, he told himself. You will wake up and Snow will be laying in bed, hating you.
This wasn't real. His head was messing with him, torturing him with these cruel dreams.
It was just a dream. A sweet dream.
Simon
"Only fools fall for you, only fools."
Wait…
"Only fools do what I do, only fools fall."
Was that… Troye Sivan?
Simon was confused. Why would someone like Baz listen to that song? That's not what he expected at all. Anything but a sad romance song. Crowley, he didn't even know Baz was into that kind of stuff.
He never saw Baz with a girl, and the boy had never talked to him about girls.
That was nothing out of ordinary, since they never really talked, but still.
It was kinda cute though, Simon had to admit. He'd talk to him about it the next day, he told himself.
Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe Baz's phone was full of hard metal punk songs, and one love song. That was possible.
While the song kept on playing, he searched for the phone. It was pretty difficult since he couldn't move his head too much, the earphone may fall out if he moved too far to the right. If he moved too far to the left, his head would bump against Baz's. He didn't want that to happen, Baz might wake up.
So he had to find it with his hands. Which meant he had to feel around the black-haired boy's body.
I don't have to do this, I'll just forget this happened and go back to bed, Simon thought. But for some reason, he wanted to know. He wanted to find the phone and listen to more songs. He didn't want to leave Baz's side.
So he let his hands flow over his body, trying not to touch him too much.
If he wakes up right now, I'm dead.
Baz
Snow was touching him. Why was his brain fucking with him so bad. He didn't deserve it.
This was like all the other dreams he had, but it was nothing like them.
This felt more real.
But it wasn't. No. It was just a dream.
Simon
Baz had abs. He'd never noticed before, but damn he certainly did.
Simon told himself he was still looking for the phone, even though he had pulled out his earphone a while ago.
He was feeling Baz's chest - oh, he was so fucked if Baz woke up right now. Lucky for him, Baz was a heavy sleeper.
Slightly trembling, Simon was sitting on his knees next to his roommate's bed.
Baz wasn't wearing a shirt and he had kicked his blanket down, so his bare chest was out in the open. He was laying stock-still, probably having a nice dream because he had this happy smile on his face.
Simon let his fingertips slide over Baz's muscled body again, careful not to make too much contact.
It felt so good, but it was so wrong. This was Baz, his enemy. The person he hated the most. And he was touching him.
As if he had woken up from a trance, Simon jumped backwards towards his bed.
No, this was wrong. He had a girlfriend. He had Agatha, and Baz was evil.
I was just touching his chest, that's what enemies do, Simon argued with himself in his head. He was getting a headache.
After talking to himself for some time, he came to a conclusion: that never happened and it could never happen again.
He laid himself down on his own bed again, thinking about anything but Baz.