Baz
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
"No."
The party wasn't bad, but Baz didn't really know anyone personally except for Snow and Bunce. Well, he knew Wellbelove and her popular friends. He also knew the footballers: Dev, Niall, Davy and the rest. And then you had the others, who didn't really belong anywhere: Trixie (what a stupid name), Emily, Ebeneza, Fiona, Nico and Mitali. He didn't really know them personal, but he had shared classes with every single one of them. He felt sorry for himself that he had to listen to their silly questions and dumb remarks during the courses.
Anyway, the whole 'squad' was there, at least twenty people. Baz looked around.
Everyone was doing their stereotypical action: the popular girls (including Bunce and her boyfriend) were dancing to stupid songs that had been playing on the radio constantly - Justin fucking Bieber for fuck's sake.
The footballers were probably standing at the 'bar' (a table filled with alcohol in the kitchen), laughing their asses off with childish jokes and drooling over the dancing girls. He couldn't see them from where he was seated, but he could predict it.
Other people were laying on couches and on the floor, talking and giggling.
And last but not least, there was Baz, sitting in a corner with a red cup in his hand. And Snow kept bothering him, as the great friend he was.
"Why not?" Simon continued to ask, breathing in his face. He smelled like alcohol.
"It's not bad," he answered truthfully. "I just don't know anyone, really."
Snow's face lit up. "I can introduce you!" He tugged on Baz's arm. "C'mon!" He shouted exited.
"Simon," Baz sighed, not pulling is arm from Snow's grip - he liked the touch. "You don't have to, I'm fine here."
"Okay, fine," Simon smiled at him, but without his eyes. (He did that a lot lately -Baz didn't know why.)
The golden-haired boy glanced at his and Baz's empty cups and jumped up. "I'll get us something to drink then. Don't go anywhere!"
He hopped away, leaving Baz chuckling. Where would he even go?
Snow was clearly on his way to get wasted, his cheeks red and face flustered. Baz decided he should let himself go for this one time, otherwise he would definitely die of boredom. And it wasn't like anyone had to come get him, because his room wasn't that far. Nobody would die this time.
Woah there, lighten up a bit, he told himself. This was supposed to be fun.
Simon
He loved parties. Everyone was always happy and the drinks were good too. He felt a little hyper, but that was okay. At least Baz was here. A warm feeling spread in his chest when he thought of the dark-haired boy.
He liked Baz. Loved, even. Simon let himself think of what could have been between him and Baz if Baz wasn't straight. They would sleep in the same bed, cuddling. He would kiss Baz on his forehead to wake him up. On his nose, his ear and his mouth. They would bake scones together. Cherry scones. They would study together, and Baz could even help him with his homework. And later, maybe later, they would get married and adopt a child. A daughter. Simon had always wanted a daughter.
But, none of that would ever happen. Baz had told him he was straight that one time, and he had never forgotten it, even if he had been a little drunk, he still remembered it clearly. He pushed away the thoughts and pasted a fake smile on his face when he passed other people on his way to the bar.
However, the bar was occupied. Davy and his pals were standing there. Simon had never liked Davy, he reminded him of someone, but Simon couldn't quite put his finger on it. Davy was this guy you didn't want to mess with, because he always found a way to win. He was very good at blackmailing and all of the footballers looked up at him, helping him whenever he needed it. They also kind off had had a problem in the past about a certain girl.
"Hey, look who we have here," Davy announced when Simon arrived at the table. He slapped him on the back as if they were friends, but Davy hit a little too hard, which caused Simon to stumble. The other guys laughed.
"Hey, Davy," Simon said, now without a smile. He nodded at the others. "How are you?"
Davy laughed, a little too loud to be meant nice. The boy looked over at someone behind him (John? Tom?) and asked him: "Did you hear what he- Simon here- said? He asked me how I was!"
Apparently that was really funny, because everyone started laughing again. Simon felt himself turn red and tried to push past them to get to the drinks.
"Hey, hey hey, where are we going, mate?" Davy grabbed him by his shoulders and forced Simon to look at him. His breath smelled like alcohol. Simon had to get away.
He pushed Davy off with all his might - the other boy was stronger than him, being the great footballer.
Luckily for him (and to his surprise), Davy actually backed off. "Damn, this guy got some strength in him," he said.
Simon ignored him and quickly pored the first thing he saw in the cups he was still miraculously holding. He pushed his way back through the footballers, but someone had stretched out his leg which caused Simon to stumble again, this time not prepared. He fell on the floor, the red cups slipping out of his hands.
More laughter. Great.
He felt himself trembling, his face turning even more red. He tried to suppress the panic growing in his chest and his heavy breathing, but that seemed rather hard.
He was going to go off if they kept bullying him like that. 'Going off' was his way to describe an anxiety attack. It almost never happened, it had been more than three years since the last time, but when it happened, things got bad. The previous time, he had panicked so bad that he had started hitting everyone around him, knocking a few people out. That couldn't happen now.
Simon tried to push himself up, looking around for someone to help him, but Penny and Micah were nowhere to see. Fuck.
Baz
Snow was taking a long time just to get some drinks. He was probably talking to the footballers, loved by everyone- typical. And Baz was stuck in that corner, with bad music. Not even Troye Sivan or Halsey, they kept on playing Justin fucking Bieber. Unbelievable.
Simon
He quickly got to his feet, trying to get away as fast as possible. But Davy didn't allow that.
The moment he got up, Davy grabbed him by his collar and pulled him off the ground (Davy was really tall, taller than Baz even). Simon felt panic rise in his chest again.
"Not so strong now, are you?" Davy spit at him, his face close to Simon's. The other guys around them had disappeared, leaving Simon alone with Davy. He didn't know if that was better or worse.
"Stop," he begged, softly. "Please, leave me alone."
Davy chuckled, "I can't do that right now, you have to pay for what you've done."
"I didn't do anything!" He protested, which gained him a punch in his stomach. He gasped for breath. "Please..," he whined.
"You didn't do anything? Oh, well, let me think…," Davy sizzled at him. "Oh yeah, there's that one time you FUCKING STOLE MY GIRLFRIEND," he raised his voice, shaking Simon up.
Simon realized what Davy was going after, his heart started beating faster and faster. He couldn't escape, he knew it. This was going to end up really bad.
"I-," Simon started. Davy punched him in the stomach again, his face red from aggression.
"Don't fucking talk to me without permission!"
Another punch, a little higher this time, in his face. His vision started to blur and he couldn't concentrate anymore. He tasted blood. Simon felt himself weaken, he tried to stand up straight, but his legs were trembling too much.
"Fuck you!" Punch.
He fell on the floor.
"Fuck your girlfriend!" Kick.
"Fuck everyone you know!" Kick.
Bad. Very bad. Dark. Very dark.
Just when he nearly passed out, on the edge of consciousness, he heard another voice.
"HEY!"
Somewhere, another punch could be heard, very loud. But this time it wasn't Simon who got hurt. Another body hit the floor, no sound coming from it.
"Oh my god, Simon, what did he do to you?" A voice, familiar, reached out to him, tried to pull him from the dark.
"Simon? Please tell me you're okay! Simon?" Hands shook him gently, making the darkness fade away a little.
"Simon," the voice broke into a sob. Simon blinked to expel the dark, and a face appeared in his vision. He would recognize those eyes, those cheekbones, that hair, everywhere.
"B- Baz?" He whispered with a small voice. Baz immediately looked up, tears in his eyes. He launched at him, pulling him off the ground and into a hug.
"Oh god, you're alright, you're alright. I- I thought I lost you, Simon," he rocked back and forth with Simon in his arms, bawling. "I thought you were gone."
Simon, confused and hurt, just responded: "I thought that too."
Baz let out a soft chuckle, pulling away to look at him. He gently stroke his face, wiping the blood and hair out of his face.
"Don't ever do that to me again, okay?" Baz looked at him seriously, holding his face. "I mean it."
"Baz," Simon just said. He wanted to tell him so bad, but he knew what was going to happen, and he didn't want to ruin their friendship.
"It's all my fault," Baz kept going. "I should have come sooner. I knew something was up. I knew it."
"Baz," Simon repeated. "Baz, it's okay. You're here now, you saved my life."
The dark-haired boy studied his face, still stroking his cheeks softly, with a glance of something Simon had only seen a few times before. He seemed to struggle with something, seemed to wait for something, seemed to try to get courage to do something. He felt Baz's eyes trail over his face, and stop at his mouth.
Simon looked at Baz's lips. He wanted to kiss him. He was going to. He was-
And then Baz kissed Simon.
And the world exploded in colors and fireworks. In flames and volcanoes. In fountains and geysers. Water flowing over in fire, gold flowing over in ink. Day in night. Sun in moon.
Simon had never felt this before, this feeling in his chest. Baz's lips moving against his, his hands still wrapped around Simon's face. Their mouths fitted perfectly, as if nature made them for each other.
Everything was hot. And he was so cold. He hadn't realized how long he'd waited for this moment. And then suddenly it was over.
Baz pulled away, his hands no longer on Simon's cheeks.
"What- I, erm- I'm just gonna- Yeah, sorry," Baz said, stumbling to his feet. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…"
Simon quickly stood up too, he wasn't going to let this moment pass. They stood across from each other, Baz's cheeks red and his eyes fleeing.
"Simon, I-"
"Shh," Simon said, stretching out his hands for Baz's face this time. He grabbed his cheeks and pulled his face down, and once again their lips met.
"Simon," Baz whispered against his lips.
"Shut up," Simon murmured. "I'm trying to kiss you."
The kiss was slower this time, deeper. Baz moved his hands up to Simon's chest and let them rest there. Simon still held Baz's face in his hands.
"What the actual FUCK?"
They quickly broke apart and looked towards where the voice was coming from. It was Davy, sitting on the ground. Oh yeah, totally forgot about that.
Davy's face was swollen, Baz must have hit him hard. Good.
"What the fuck? Are you two gay? Fucking faggots!"
Baz's expression filled with anger and he stormed at Davy, but Simon jumped between them.
"Snow, get out of the way, I'm gonna hit that twat," Baz said demanding.
"No, Baz, just let it go, leave him be," he said.
"Yeah!" Davy added from behind him. "Listen to your fucking gay boyfriend!" That didn't really help.
Baz tried to push past him, but he took his hands. "Let's get out and leave him here. He probably can't even walk."
The dark-haired boy threw an angry glance at Davy, but when he looked at Simon, his look softened. "You're right, let's go to our room and leave this stupid party."
"Not before I danced with you."
Baz
They had kissed. Twice. And now they were dancing. And this was all happening, not just a dream.
He looked at Snow, who was looking at him too. They were slowing (Simon wasn't that bad after all), Simon's hands on his shoulders and his own hands on the other boy's waist.
The golden-haired boy still looked bad, a bruise on his face, but he was smiling. And this time his eyes were smiling too. Could it be that Simon had really wanted it to, and not only Baz? Apparently.
Other people were staring, but the duo didn't care. They only had eye for each other.
Baz interrupted the happy silence between them. "This music sucks."
Simon giggled, shaking his head. "Sorry," he said.
Baz planted a little kiss on his forehead, saying: "It's not your fault that this party sucks."
"It doesn't suck," Simon protested.
"Simon," Baz said. "You just got beaten up. And there's only One Direction and Justin Bieber music. I think that qualifies as a party that sucks."
"I didn't know you knew One Direction?" Simon teased him. Baz rolled his eyes.
"And it doesn't suck," Simon continued. "Because I kissed you. Twice. And now we're dancing."
Baz smiled at him. "Technically," he said, "I kissed you first. So you only kissed me once."
"Let's change that then," Simon said, and he pulled Baz down again and planted a deep kiss on the other boy's lips. "Two against one, I win."
"I didn't know this was a competition?"
"You bet."
"Make that," this time Baz cupped Simon's cheeks and let their lips collide again, "Two against two. It's a draw. We both win."
And so they went on for a long time, not paying attention to the others. They both agreed that this was the best party they'd ever been too, even with the beating.
Simon
They were both laying on Baz's bed. Simon wrapped around Baz, with his head in the other boy's chest. Baz was gently stroking Simon's back.
"Baz?" Simon looked up.
"Yes, Simon?"
"I think I love you."
Baz looked surprised, but definitely not unhappy. "I- I love you too, Simon."
Their lips met for the last time, and then they both closed their eyes, ready to sleep in each other's arms.
"Baz?"
"Yes, Simon?"
"Goodnight."
"Sweet Dreams, Simon."
the end
