Baz:

After Snow's stunt with the crop top, I stayed locked in the bathroom for a good forty five minutes, contemplating the life choices that had brought me to this point.

God, I hated him.

But I hated the most that the aforementioned statement had expired years ago.

The ceramic of the bathroom sink was cool against my overly warm hands, and I braced myself against it for a moment, critically taking in my appearance.

I hadn't changed much through however many years it was supposed to have been. It almost threw me off that I was still myself. The only thing that seemed real in this so called future. Grey eyes, hair swept out of my face, and a permanent scowl settling on my features.

But in this universe, I was so obviously happy, it almost sickened me. I could tell by my eyes, which were just a little brighter. The grin I sported in all of the trashed photos. The fact that Snow was there and mine was obviously enough to keep me cheerful for a lifetime.

Although I wouldn't be surprised if I still gave Snow hell sometimes.

Twisting the tap, I dipped my hands into the water, and quickly splashed my face, rubbing it dry with a towel afterwards.

And then, feeling slightly better, I left the bathroom to return to my laptop, and kick any distractions (Namely: Simon Snow) out.

Also, I hadn't heard a peep from anywhere in the flat for the whole time that I'd concealed myself, and against my better judgement, I was becoming concerned.

I was almost completely sure that it was impossible for Snow to be silent for a whole minute, let alone several. In my mind, he'd always started vibrating and letting out a high pitched noise once he hit the five minute mark.

However, once I re-entered the room that I'd left him in, it became immediately apparent as to why he'd been so quiet. He wasn't here at all. Seemed like he'd finally decided to get out of the flat (although I hoped that he'd decided to change before leaving- no matter how unlikely it is that Snow will ever be aware of my feelings, I found that I didn't like the idea of him wandering around London while so scantily clad).

Although the room was devoid of Snow, his impact was clear as day. For some reason, the git had decided to rip up half of the room. The couch cushions lay on opposite ends of the floor, the drawers of the TV cabinet had been rifled through, and the coffee table was neatly upturned. I'd be laughing if I wasn't so horrified at the mess that had been made.

Had I really been so deep in thought, I hadn't noticed this?

Patting my pockets, I withdrew my wand, and casted a quick 'As you were'. My wand was another thing that had changed. I'd spent a long time looking for it after I ended up in the future, which was odd, since I'd always made a point to have it on me.

It turned out that it was in a vase. Full of water. With flowers in it. I sincerely hoped that that was Future Simon's idea of a prank, because the idea of me being that careless made me worried that I had some sort of brain problem in the future.

As the room righted itself, I peeked through the rest of the flat, finding much of the same. The bedroom was the worst. He'd actually managed to rip a pillowcase in half in his haste. The wardrobe door lay innocently on the carpet, clean off its hinges. The drawers had yet again been emptied, and clothing was scattered throughout the room, including a pair of boxers that were tossed over the lamp (If I'd had enough blood over the last few days, I would have blushed upon realising that they didn't belong to me)

Had Snow gone feral? Finally lost it after all the Mage has thrown at him?

Sighing, I leaned against the door, biting my lip. I couldn't recall saying anything earlier that was past my usual brand of rude (although it was a bit of a blur because of Simon in a crop top)

So what could have caused him to go on a rampage?

With the way that he'd stripped apart the couch…rifled through the drawers…it was almost like…

No.

No. no.

My blood ran cold.

Had I missed something?

No. I was overthinking it. Maybe he just lost his game controller. Or something.

Simon Snow, what are you looking for?

…..()….

Simon:

The soft click of the bathroom door opening and closing snapped me out of my spiralling thoughts. This wasn't possible. If this was what I was suspecting, it wasn't possible.

Baz hates me.

I hate Baz.

But as the latter statement entered my mind, I realised how much of a lie it was. Sure, the wanker could be a pain. He was always nicking my mint Aeros, for one thing.

But I don't think that I'd truly hated him for a while.

And I supposed it added up. My mind always straying to him. The compulsion to always know where he was. Paying more attention to him than my actual (now ex) girlfriend.

Not to mention the overwhelming worry for him that had caused me to follow him on a very potentially dangerous trip to the future.

I was in love with him.

Fuck.

Was I gay? Did this make me gay?

'Stop worrying about that' the slightly more intelligent part of my brain told me 'Go and find more proof before you overthink it'

So look for more proof I did.

I scoured the main room, then the kitchen, cringing when I sent a block of knives clanging to the floor. Hopefully Baz didn't hear it.

But there was nothing. Which was odd, since I knew that I'd be the type of person to put up photos, and clear out a section of the fridge, and give them a drawer to put their clothes in.

The bedroom was last, and I went through the motions of checking the bed, then the wardrobe, breaking a few things in my hurry.

There was a jumble of papers and things under the bed, but my wings got in the way when I tried to squeeze underneath to reach them, so I just left it.

I was just about to give up, when I finally found what I was looking for.

While scouring one of the drawers that Baz had deigned to use for the extent of his stay, and picking up the pair of jeans he'd been wearing on the first day (and perhaps imagining him wearing them), a folded piece of paper fell out.

Upon unfolding it, I let out a breath.

Baz and I. Together at a party. Hands clasped. About to kiss.

It really shouldn't have been a relief.

But somehow, knowing that it wasn't all in my head, and my newfound feelings for Baz weren't unnatural, was indescribably soothing.

With this, my phone password, and the photo in my locket, the proof was undeniable.

In the future, Tyrannus Basilton Pitch and I were in a relationship.

Pulling on a long coat to hide my wings and tail, I stepped outside the flat, walked down two flights of stairs, and sat down in the lobby, photo in hand.

We're in love.

Something bubbled up in my chest, and I resisted the urge to laugh in pure ecstasy.

Just for one moment, I was happy.

I considered running back up to the flat, flinging open the door, and kissing Baz.

Wasn't true love's first kiss one of the ways to break the time travel spell? It'd be a sure-fire way to further reinforce our relationship.

Then I remembered.

This photo was hidden in Baz's pocket.

He didn't want me to see it.

Back at the flat, there were blu-tac marks on the walls. Photos had been there.

I'd thought that one side of the bed had been far too tidy. Baz's things had been there.

The hair gel that I'd found hidden underneath the cabinet the other day, but dismissed. That had belonged to Baz.

Baz knew. He'd ensured that I didn't.

I'd been too caught up in my own pace again. Baz didn't want this relationship to happen.

So he made sure it didn't.