SIMON

Baz may not be as evil as I used to think.

Not as bad.

Maybe even slightly ok.

Maybe even quite alright.

The thought is so new and bright it confuses me.

A week ago, half of the football team caught STDs and now they have been suspended - indefinitely, may I add - for poor ethical behaviour. The parents council threw a fit, but what was done was done.

Was there an orgy on the field? Really, who can say? - the rumours are running wild at this point. Some students have attempted truth spells that backfired - they are not the most stable type of spells. Penelope probably could pull one off, but she doesn't care enough to. The faculty probably know what's up. The Mage surely knows what's up. Baz definitely knows what's up, as team captain and general know-it-all. But no one is going to tell me.

Anyways, I am most definitely not contributing to the rumours, I am just, you know, talking to Penny about it. And Penny doesn't count because she is a fortress of secrets made of wisdom bricks. Like, how she hasn't told anyone about that time I accidentally made myself fall in love with a frog and had to kiss it to break the spell. Yea. That was before I had given up trying to teach myself any magickal skills.

Anyway, after the team was practically torn to shreds, with like a dozen people suspended, (obviously including people from the reserve) it meant that the underdogs, the football amateurs, got a chance to play in the school team. And we took it with gusto.

(No one on the faculty really, like, really, cares about Normals' football at Watford, that's why we get a chance.)

"Will you play for the team now?" Pen asks. "Baz is going to be your field boss." she snorts an unladylike snort while drinking her juice, and some of it comes out of her nose. She makes these weird anguish noises trying to make things better.

Does this situation with Baz the team captain make me happy? No, not really?

Will it make Baz unhappy to have me on his team? Yes, most likely.

So am I happy? - yes, I guess I am.

Penny is ecstatic for this opportunity for me. She keeps saying how it will distract me from all the horrible stuff that awaits to happen. She doesn't put it that way, but that's what she means. I mean, I wonder how football can make me forget I have the weight of the whole magickal world on my shoulders, and as wisely as Baz puts it - I am the worst ChOSeN oNe EveR - I imagine that's how he says it in his mind.

I know for a fact that Agatha will regret breaking up with me when she sees me on the field - all professional footballer and such. A heavy weight sneaks up back on my chest when I think about that though. Maybe I don't want Agatha regretting it. Maybe I don't want the chance to get back together. Maybe the possibility will feel like another "have to" on my list of "things to do to be who I am supposed to be" (not in any particular order):

save the magickal world

be brave and strong

carry on as if there is a happy ending for me

make the Mage proud

unbreak myself

...

be with someone as perfect as Agatha (so that maybe their perfectness rubs on me and i become less imperfect)

I am nearing the locker room with a bunch of the other guys when I am suddenly nervous to see Baz. Does he know? Of course he knows. Is he annoyed? Merlin's beard, I hope he is.

Everyone is extremely chatty and literally buzzing with excitement as we enter the locker room, I try to engage as well, but my mind is anxiously looking for Baz. He must be hating this, this change of team, especially the exchange of his tried and experienced teammates with us - the low-lives, the mediocrity.

I find it funny that he was one of the few that didn't get suspended from the team. I think it's a vampire thing. Vampires don't get STD's. I add it on the list of things I know(ish) about vampires so far:

Not afraid of light

Unfairly good looking - had to cross that, can't base my data on one specimen only

Feeds on animals (and possibly secretly on humans? Dunno, not enough data)

Not dead (but not fully alive? How does this work again?)

Cannot get STDs (but can they get erection?) (unexpected thought question. Remove from list. Delete. Altr+CTRL+Z!)

I am still furtively looking for Baz while changing in my shorts and game shirt. The silence that falls like a wet blanket over the locker room is what alerts me to his majesty's presence.

I swivel around with my shirt half on, still looking for the right arm hole, i probably look like a moron. His sneer certainly conveys that as he upraises me with his snobby gaze. His grey eyes are like liquid steel, full of contempt. Merlin he must hate us. Or just me. I am not sure how inclusive Baz is in his hate.

I cock an eyebrow up - it took me ages to learn to do this. But it is worth it.

His lip curls up, like the beginning of a snarl. It is glorious!

And a little terrifying...

I love it!

Then he shares this cold look with everyone else and never returns his gaze to me. I am dismissed by his royal highness.

I am… surprisingly disappointed. I hoped to get more on his nerves. (To get back for all the times he got on mine!)

Well, oh, I will have to do splendidly on the field then!

I do horribly on the field. Mostly because Coach makes me take off my amulet cross necklace and I feel naked the entire practice. Eerytime Baz and I bump into each other my heart skips a beat as if expecting him to bite me and ravish my carcass on the field in front of the team. I am being ridiculous, but is it really ridiculous to be wary and careful with your nemesis, even if there are lots of people around you?

Yes, Penny's voice in my head most definitely says yes.

But I disagree.

Penny is cheering from the bleachers every time I touch the ball. "It's your first time! Of course I'll come!" she said with an eye roll earlier today. Lucky for me, Baz was passing by the hall when he heard this and couldn't help himself: "First time, huh, Snow? Did Wellbelove not deflower you when she had the chance?"

I felt myself go red like a beetroot. First, because it turns out Baz heard Agatha and I were no longer an item, and second because of the use of the word deflower aimed at me… such a maiden term.

I wanted to hurl a heavy book in his head, but instead settled for kicking the wall. I hurt my toe, but it was worth it. (not really)

In addition to the whole being without my cross situation, there is another thing that makes me scramble-brained. And if the cross thing is understandable, the following one befuddles the hell out of me.

My mind can't seem to concentrate on anything that is well, not Baz related. It gathers Baz's whereabouts at ALL times. It captures and stores perfectly clear details on how gracefully he moves, how he can outrun ALL players, how he scrunches his nose and squints when he faces the sun (like he is showing it the finger), how he sticks the tip of his tongue out between his teeth like a little innocent kid before kicking penalties - research for my vampire list, the speed and gracefulness at least, I tell myself desperately. However! It's more than physical erm...research. Whenever someone falls, Baz helps them up. I think I had a small heart attack the first time I saw it. And it is not someone from his usual team. No, it's one of us. The lowlifes. The mediocrities.

And then, I notice something else.

Whenever someone is struggling with a technique…. Baz kinda gives... advice… and *gasp* encouragement.

I think… I think this is a parallel universe or maybe it's the Opposites Day? But when he sees me staring and sneers at me, I know it is most definitely NOT Opposite Day. Things are between us as the universe made them.

The practice ends and I promise myself solemnly to do better next time. Penny still cheers for me when I leave the field, and I am awash with gratefulness for such a good friend. Everyone is even more excited than they were before. We banter and laugh but my heart is not in it. I feel left out for some reason. I haven't received not a tiny shred of Baz's decency. And I didn't know I even wanted it until 2 hours ago. Because I had no idea he had it in him. Has it in him.

Penny waves a paper bag at me and a donut in her other hand, she gestures towards the bag and yells: "FOOD!"

I promise myself to be a better friend to her. Maybe not eat all the scones, ask her more often about Micah and talk less about Baz to her. (she hates it when i elaborate out loud on my suspicions of Baz and what he is plotting. Speaking of suspicions... Could the suspension of half the team be part of his new evil plot? Did he know I would get in the team? Did he orchestrate this all? I should talk to Penny about this! ASAP!)

I run to where she is leaning over the bleachers and when I am approaching I remember my decision of being a better friend and talk less about Baz and more about Micah, so I swallow back all my newest speculations about Baz and his mastermind plot.

Instead I make her laugh with self deprecating jokes about how I sucked today as I stuff my face with one tasty donut.

I think I deliberately stall, not wanting to join the guys right away.

When I finally go inside the changing rooms, most guys are gone. Relieved to not have to interact with these people that now have all received some form of help or niceness or decency from Baz the evil vampire, I take off my clinging sweaty shirt and hurry to the shower. However, Coach Mac calls me before I get a chance to, though. "Snow! Come here, son! I think you have potential - " (not after THIS practice he doesn't),

"Thank you, sir?" I reply with uncertainty, waiting for the inevitable "buuut"

"Pitch!" he shouts looking behind my shoulder and I cringe. No. nononono. Where is this going? Is Baz going to take over from the "buuuut" or is he going to deliver the "buuut"?

Baz is by us in a few strides. His hair is perfect, there is not a bit of him that says that he has been running around for the past 2 hours. He has already taken a shower because he smells like his usual posh self.

It is so unfair, I want to stomp on his shoe, pull on his laces, and maybe rub my sweaty arms over his expensive posh suit. Oh and definitely ruin his perfect hair, muss it with my bare fingers, wrap my fist in his stupid perfect hair and pull -

He doesn't bother to look at me. The arse !

I move into his space just a little more, my sticky sweaty shoulder ruining his jacket. (I hope he has to set it on fire afterwards.)

I feel a satisfied small tugging at my lips but I control the impulse to cackle like a maniac.

He steps to the side and I almost topple after him. It turns out I was leaning. He throws me a quick glance and I see something that surprises me, some emotion very similar to panic. It makes me want to back up, give him space. Something in me responds to that feeling. Something raw and vulnerable. What's happening behind those perfect grey eyes?

I tune to what the coach is actually saying. Uhho. something about Baz taking me under his wing and helping me practice my dribbling.

"We have a game in 2 months" he tells us. "We need everyone in top shape!"

"I.. I .. what? I am sorry," I sputter. "I mean… erm, what? "

"You want us to pair up, sir? Is what the Chosen One is trying to say, Coach. Minus the "Sir", he is not very well mannered," says Baz and his voice is leaking with irony

Meanwhile I am having a small scale anxiety attack. Is this the Crucible 2.0? Pairing us like this? I can't be left alone with Baz after practice! I mean, I do sleep in the same room with him, but the room has the Anathema to protect me from his devilish ways!

The coach grins and nods, "See? You are already helping! Great job, Pitch! Good luck, Snow!" and before I find more words to protest he is off and away.

I stare after him and when I swivel to confront Baz, to yell at him in a dramatic but totally mature fashion a variation of: J'accuse!

He is not there either.

Sneaky, silent moving around skills. Sudden Batman-like disappearing skills - yup. That goes on the "what makes a vampire" list. The extended version. The one I am never showing Pen.

BAZ

I am finally in the safety of our room - away from wide blue eyes and freckly shoulders. I take a long cold shower and think about merwolves. I think about drinking them and even about eating them. (Barf in my mouth a little at this)

I think about their disgusting smell and even more disgusting personalities. By Alistair Crowley and all his minions, how I despise them.

The shower and the merwolves thoughts help. They help with erasing this looping fantasy in which I jump Snow in front of Coach and snog him senseless. The shower turns down my absolutely adolescent horny mood but also turns down my body temperature to an alarming degree.

All in all, we can all agree, without any drastic exaggeration, that my life is hell.

I thought it was hell before, when we had to share a room for years, but now I remember that hell has fucking layers. And I have just advanced to a deeper, hotter level. A level in which I have 2 additional hours a day of untouchable Simon Snow. I have to watch him charm everyone, and suffer through all these thoughtless touches that everyone passes around, like patting Snow's shoulder, and all the back slaps and hugs and everything else... Everyone (except me) is awash with his golden focus, all this energy and charm spent on them. I did not ask to witness this. I did not ask to suffer through this impossible stupid...thing!

And then there are the locker rooms. From now on, I shall come in first and go out last to avoid putting myself through more misery. Like today, I came too late and Snow was half naked. I was not ready to see the dusting golden hair swirling around his navel and disappearing inside his shorts. When did that happen? (Puberty what have you done?)

And freckles, his abdomen is delicately freckled. Can he get more ridiculously attractive?

Do you think I don't have enough fantasies of Simon Snow in my head? Do you really think I need more? I am talking to you, stupid Cosmos. Get down here and offer me an explanation!

I refuse to spend any more time with Snow, I am at my wit's end as it is. "Take him under my wing", how about I take him under my fangs ?

Him and the coach and all the morons that got themselves chlamydia, no, not by sleeping around, but by fucking up a spell. Disgusting. Amateurs. And they are the upholders of magic? Outrageous.

You know what else is outrageous?

Snow's shoulders. And his freckled skin, that looks soft and kissable and definitely lickable. And also his smell. So… fucking him, like the smell you get the second day after sitting by a bonfire, that sort of nostalgic smoke scent.

I rub myself with the towel, hoping to rub some warmth into me. Fighting the cold takes away all fire from me. Now I am just a sad - no longer horny - adolescent.

The only place I get to belong without strings attached is the football field, and now he is taking that away, swooping in with goofy smiles and friendly banter, charming everyone, and of course the magickal bomb vibe that he has going for himself, makes everyone eat from his palm.

( I 'd like to eat from his palm, but I have some self respect.)

I lean on the cold bathroom wall, forehead banging on the wall because facepalming is not enough for the situation that I am in.

I hear when he enters our room. I quickly finish dressing.

There is a moment of hesitant quiet and then the bathroom door rattles. I actually jump a little at the noise.

"Fuck off, Snow! What are you, a caveman?" I lean on the door. "Did you forget how locked doors worked? You first knock, you animal!"

Silence.

Did that work?!

"I talked with Coach." Long pause. "I told him I can't afford to spend more time playing football. Due to me being. You know. Erm… The humdrums target." euphemism for the chosen one . I roll my eyes. Of course he talked Coach out of this.

Relief and disappointment make an awfully conflicting mix of feelings that I am not equipped to deal with right now.

"Glad I won't have to spend another minute with you! Now scatter!"

He snorts, "He offered an alternative which is not necessarily better." His voice sounds right behind the door, like he too is leaning on the other side.

"Do go on, I don't have the whole fucking night to hear your story of woe." I snarl, impatient to get this conversation I don't want to have over.

He huffs in annoyance, but replies nonetheless. "You're stuck with me during pair work at practice sessions. No quantitative changes, but qualitative."

I can hear the smugness of the last words. I am absolutely certain it's directed to his own use of qualitative and quantitative in a colloquial sentence

I press on the door knob unlocking it and opening it in one smooth move. He stumbles towards me, out of balance - he really has been leaning on the door - I reach out to steady him, before he faceplants on the floor, and I don't immediately pull away. (I am not given a chance, really.) He jabs his forefinger at my chest and pokes me several times while he speaks in a 10 year old girl sing-song fashion:

"You're gonna have to be nice to me too, now!"

I stare in shock. My hand is still on his shoulder from when he fell in the bathroom. I still don't move it away. Is it stuck? Did I lose control over my hand? Whatever.

"What? Are you having a stroke? Why is nonsense coming out of your mouth shaped hole?"

He grins unperturbed. He looks manic, excited. I finally manage to unglue my hand from his body and he follows the movement with a surprised eyebrow raised.

"I saw you, Baz! You were nice to people today!" he throws his arms in the air dramatically. "Baz Pitch! Nemesis, vampire, local baddie and style guru - decent! NICE even."

I feel a stupid unreasonable blush creeping over my cheeks. Did I feed too much yesterday? "I am not… nice" I think I spit the word. Nice? Fucking nice? Pitches don't do nice ! I am a responsible teammate - that I am. Not bloody nice! I also really like winning, and the football field is one place where I can't do that alone and antagonizing team mates doesn't lead to winning. Of course, Snow is too daft to understand that, because of all his daftness and curls, for sure.

"Yea you were nice, and now you will have to be nice with me as well, because I know you can! So you'll be my football partner during practice, being all nice in the presence of witnesses, no loopholes for plotting my demise in the lonely afterhours of one on one practice... " he is babbling. Like a kid at a fair reporting all the stuff he sees. There's a wheel and t has shiny lights on it… oh I want a teddy bear… and look there's blue cotton candy... does it come from smurfs? That kind of babble.

"Why do you look happy about it?" I sound angry, I feel angry. I don't know why. It's not like it's his fault that his presence makes it hard for me to just fucking be. And his happiness. I am pissed about this too. The contrast to the anguish that I feel makes me murder-y.

I expect the babbling to go on, but he stops. His smile falters.

He actually thinks before answering. "I don't know… I guess" he takes a deep breath and his exhale hits my face. "I guess I didn't know there was a possibility for us to be friends, and now that I have seen you are capable of decency to EVERYONE except me, I… I don't know. I erm... I want us, you know, to get along. As friends. And that makes me happy, I suppose."

I start laughing before he even finishes. It is bitter. Angry. It is a fuck you kind of laughter.

"You and I will never be friends." I feel sick, like I need to gag. It is worse than when I was imagining the merwolves.

He seems hurt by my outburst and for what is worth, I am sorry. I do not mean to hurt him, I only mean to save me from hurting.

But then, because he is Simon Snow and because he is relentless, like a dog with a bone, the hurt fades and determination sets in: "Why not?" he demands. He makes a step towards me and I back away right into the sink. The Great Simon Snow is backing me into a corner, now physically too.

"Have you forgotten all the times I tried to kill you? I might still do it. By inertia!" I offer weakly..

He makes an annoyed grimace, "But… but did you really?"

I stare.

"Try to kill me, did you really?" he cocks an eyebrow and my mouth falls open - twice today already! He stole this from me! The eyebrow thing is mine!

(It looks so fucking hot when he does it)

"Yes." I don't sound convincing. (It's the eyebrow. It's distracting!)

"I think some of those times were accidents... Huh? How about that?" he seems surprised to hear himself say that. "Like the stairs!"

"You accused me of pushing you off the stairs as an attempt to kill you! You wanted to expel me!" I remind him.

"Yea, I might have exaggerated that one. We were, you know, in the middle of a fist fight.."

We stare at each other, him musing, me fuming.

"Ok. I propose a deal." He says and bounces on his heels. Why is he beaming at me? I don't know what to do with this version of Simon Snow, smiling at me, beaming at me like I have cotton candy or cherry scones in my pockets.

He raises his hands, palms forward, to show he is unarmed and continues. "Not a friendship deal, since you seem so disgusted by the mere idea, but a Truce of Mutual Decency," he sighs, smile fading into a sigh. "I am tired, Baz, I am so, so tired. I have to fight the Humdrum. Why do I have to fight you as well? Aren't you tired of the constant antagonization? Don't you think being decent with each other will be less tiring? You'd have more energy to do other, murdery vampiry things. Maybe put all your energy into the Mage's downfall directly, you know? Leave me out of it?"

I ignore the last part. Yeah. Throwing barbs at him all the time is not the best coping strategy for this temporary crush I have been struggling with and that seems more permanent than temporary with each school year.

However, being nice with each other will also hurt me more. When the thing that you want is far away, it is easy to be angry, to walk around wrapped in barbed wire. When the thing you want is right in front of you, at arm's length, but is still unattainable… well, then it's too easy to crash and burn. And as you know, I am highly flammable.

"No."

I push him out of my way and move past him to the bedroom, cursing all the way. "I think you have enough people charmed by you, I don't want to be another one in line. I do not want to be decent with you, Simon Snow , because you spoil everything."

I can feel a rant coming in but I can't seem to stop it. "Football is what I do to escape - from your stupid face as well - and even there, there you are, prancing around, fucking up my game - "

"What on earth are you talking about? Fucking up your game? You… you…" he grabs me by the shoulder and tries to swing me around, but I am too worked up and he fails, all the while fumbling for words.

I start pacing in the room, I am a wild animal and he is keeping me in a cage. He stops to figure out what he wants to say next. Snow's quest for words is always written on his face. The moment he finds the right word he lights up. I like watching when it happens. The perverted masochist that I am.

"You were… fuck! You were magnificent today!" he finally delivers and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. Eyes wide in surprise at the word he reached for.

I stop in my angry tracks. Magnificent? He went with that?

We stare at each other and then, slowly, gradually, like a brilliant accident unfolding in front of your eyes, the kind that you can't stop yourself from gawking at, Snow snorts a ridiculous laughter. And I join him in it. I giggle and then give out a belly laugh that fills the room.

We laugh like teenagers and it takes me a full minute of belly laughter to realize that we are teenagers. For a moment there, we are not arch enemies, boys destined to kill each other. But teenagers. Laughing with each other at being stupid.

Snow wipes tears from his eyes and wheezes: "I did not know you could laugh. Not like this. Your laughter is magnificent, Baz." I smirk at the self-directed pun.

My cheeks hurt, and I am still in awe that my fangs haven't popped out. I check discreetly with my tongue just in case.

I don't know what to do with this word that Snow is giving me.

Magnificent.

I don't know what to do with praise, with compliments. Especially with his. What does one vampire do with a word like Magnificent? Elope?

I sit on my desk and cross my legs and cross my arms - it doesn't get more closed than this. "I still don't want to be friends," I say. I don't know if he hears the words underneath this declaration, the "I want more" declaration, from beneath the closed stance and the barbed wire. It feels like I am screaming it from the other side of the fence.

But he smiles a tight smile my way. "Not friends then. Truce of mutual decency?" he asks, stupid hope in his voice.

It's the hope that gets me, I think.

I nod even though I haven't given formal consent to my neck muscles to move.

He beams at me and I feel heat rising to my cheeks again. His smile unravels me into a flaming mess.

I close my eyes to not see this. This unfolding catastrophe of wanting and not getting will not lead to anything good but to me in ashes. "Truce." I say, my voice is hoarse. Like that time aunt Fiona and I sang karaoke for 2 hours straight.

"Say the full name, Baz, otherwise it is not official."

I roll my eyes, even though he can't see them, but humour him. "Truce of mutual decency, Snow."

I open my eyes, bracing for this version of smiling Simon, but he looks serious and even grave. He extends his hand to me.

The boy with clear blue eyes and bronze curls offering me a gift.

I take it. His hand is so warm, almost hot compared to mine. I look at us, connected like this. My skin looks ashy in comparison to his healthy glow. I snatch my hand out of his grasp, I want to run away and hide, but I force myself to stay still.

My palm is still burning where it met his seconds ago.

What the fuck have I agreed to?!