Part 2: Freeze
Baz
"You're wet." He says, stunned.
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. "Thank you for being so attentive, Snow. You know, you really out do yourself sometimes."
He folds him arms across his chest, not amused by my jab. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd deliver your gift. It would look much better on you than hanging in my room. There's your hint, since I know you're going to ask for one."
Snow opens his mouth and I wait for a bluster, a giant storm of words to erupt out of him. Instead, he says nothing and eyes the box on the table.
My prediction is correct. I knew it would be. Snow is the most predictable git I know, and a damn beautiful one at that. He stands there gawking at it, mouth slightly parted so he can release those little gasps of his. I want nothing more than to close the distance, take his mouth into mine and forget all this nonsense that went on. However, I am frozen. Snow stands there, shirtless. It's the ultimate taboo; each and every mole is visible (well, the ones I've seen before). The desire to touch him is unreal, but I can't move. I curse at him instead.
"Are you going to put on a fucking shirt?"
His eyes grow wide like a puppy's and he nods obediently, disappearing out of the kitchen. I relinquish the burden of my wet coat and scarf. My jumper is drenched. It sticks to me like paste and I pull on the fabric, attempting to peel it off my skin. It comes off, after much of a fight. I walk into the living room and light the fireplace. No shirt, no fire, what the hell is he thinking? Has he even bothered to look out the window? I glance towards them myself and take note of how hard the snow is coming down.
And the fact that I'm not going to make it back to my car.
Simon
I quickly try to pull on a blue shirt. First, I put it on backwards. Then, my second attempt is foiled when I put my arm where my head should go. Eventually, after several other tries, it slides on with no trouble at all. Baz always yells at me for walking around shirtless; I suppose he's very big on propriety or something. I never understood it; not the propriety thing, but the fact that he makes me so nervous I can hardly dress myself. I want answers. Is he here to talk about…that? What's in that box? Did he not realize it was snowing?
Did he want to see me that bad?
I rush to the bathroom and give myself a once over. I growl at my appearance. My face is red. My hair is hardly tamable, but I brush my fingers through it anyways.
Baz is sitting in the living room. He looks as though he is carved out of stone; he sits so still you can barely tell he's alive. But he is; I can see his chest moving in a slow, graceful rhythm. His shirt is damp, plastered to his chest. Did he forget to do the top buttons…or did he leave them open on purpose? I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.
"I made some tea."
The sentence comes out in a jumble. I feel awkward, like a little one learning how to use their legs for the first time. He smirks at me. How does he always stay so composed? I'm falling apart at the seams…
Baz
Snow is a mess. But then again, so am I. However, I can sweep my instability under the rug. Simon Snow leaves his laying out in the open for you to trip on.
"Pour me a cup, if you don't mind."
My voice is shaky, but I don't think he catches it.
Snow leaves me in the living room, so I spread my arms along the back of the sofa, trying to stay relaxed. In my mind, this was easier. Everything is so damn awkward. For a moment, I feel that I've brought this on myself. It is half my fault. He'll expect me to take full responsibility. And, strangely enough, I think I will…for him. In order for us to reach compromise, you have to be willing to bear the weight of any problem. Love has a way of making one sacrifice their pride.
It's disgustingly true.
He returns quicker than I expect him to, cup and saucer in each hand. Snow walks with his head down, eyes locked in a romantic gaze with the floor. He has a knack for tripping over that tail of his. My heart feels warm and it hurts. I want him to know how sorry I am.
I just don't know how to say it.
Simon
I'm not fond of my wings and tail, but I'm growing used to them. I trip constantly. I've had more intimate moments with the floor than I have with Baz. I blush at the thought. Apart from stolen kisses here and there, we've never fully experienced each other. I sit down on the opposite end of the sofa, keeping my distance. Now isn't the time. I'm worried that a time may never come.
I lean over and sit the cup in front of him, avoiding eye contact. I don't know what to say or where to begin.
"Are you afraid I'm going to bite you?" Baz says.
I glance at the space between us.
"N-No. I'm not."
"Then why are you sitting all the way over there?"
I shrug.
"For the love of God, Snow." He mutters.
He slides down the sofa. Baz is elegant and brisk, bringing his cup with him. I envy him for being so put together. He's never rash or chaotic, logic and sensibility come naturally to him. I pick up my tea and take a nervous sip.
"I suppose we need to talk about our little incident."
I nearly choke on my tea. "Incident? Is that what you're calling it?"
Baz narrows his eyes at me. "Would you prefer me to call it something else?"
"Well, it was entirely something else."
"Tell me what it was then, Snow, if you can manage to do so without the stuttering."
I feel the heat rise up in my veins. It's too late for me to bite my tongue. "I suppose it was you being jealous."
"Oh, now you're flattering yourself. I was not jealous."
"You also said you weren't a vampire." I reply smugly.
He sits his cup down on the table, hard.
"Penelope would be awfully upset if you broke her cup."
Baz glares at me. "Suppose I was jealous; I think I had every right to be. You canceled our dinner to go drinking with another man."
"My coworker. Do you forget what you said to me that morning? I think it was along the lines of, "Oh, I don't think I'm going to have time for that today." Correct me if I'm wrong Baz, but I do believe you said that."
"I will correct you. I said, "Simon, I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it to dinner, but I will let you know. Your memory fails you once again, I see."
"Just like you failed to let make me aware of the fact that you weren't going to show up." I stand, unable to bear his gaze any longer. It's swifter than any knife. It pierces me mercilessly. "I waited and waited for you Baz."
He stands his ground as well, squaring his shoulders and looking down at me. "And your good friend Conall just happened to be free? What a sad bloke to have no plans on the weekend."
"What a pathetic bloke to blow off his boyfriend for…I'm sorry. What were you doing, Basilton? Did you have a meeting with someone as well?"
He doesn't reply. My temper rises and so does my voice. I feel tears gather in my eyes.
No, he wouldn't do that to me. Would he?
"Is that it, Baz? Is that why you've been skipping dinner and putting me off like I'm some chore? There's someone else, isn't there?"
Baz looks at me as if I've punched him in the stomach. "Is that what you think, Snow?"
"What?"
"Is that what you really think?" His voice is harsh and every word stabs me in the chest. I don't know what to think. We stare at each other for a long time, drowning in the silence that surrounds us. Baz shakes his head.
"I was shopping for your gift."
"You were what?"
"Shopping," he says indifferently. "It's our first Christmas together and I wanted it to be perfect. I guess it's too late for that now."
Baz
I leave him standing in the living room.
I have to get out of here.
I grab my coat and wrap on my scarf. They're both still wet but I don't give a shit.
I hear Snow's feet clambering behind me.
Simon
"Baz, wait."
He ignores me and continues heading for the door.
"Baz, please."
"Fuck. Off."
"It's a blizzard out there."
"I'll take my chances."
I grip the back of his shirt, desperately. My hands cling to him as if he's all I have left. I bury my face into his wet shirt. I don't want him to leave, ever.
"I'm sorry." I mutter into his back.
He freezes. I can hear him breathing.
"Simon."