sorry the wait's been a while! enjoy part 2 :)
Part II: Ah! The element of surprise
It was strange, being around Baz and not wanting to sock him in the face. Simon wasn't used to it at all.
Penny insisted that Simon should remain cautious – Baz had basically tried to off him enough times before – but for some reason, Simon couldn't help but trust Baz.
Maybe it was the way that Baz had stopped ratting on Simon for leaving his pyjamas on the floor. Or it could have been how he actually helped Simon with some homework without complaining about Simon's stupidity.
Whatever it was, it was kind of freaking Simon out – mainly because he actually enjoyed this newfound civility. He could almost imagine being Baz's friend, sometimes. He was really a lot more like Penny than Simon had originally realised; they shared the same sarcasm and love for learning and proving themselves. If Simon was best friends with Penny, why couldn't he at least get on with Baz?
So he started making more of an effort. Nothing over the top, but just simple things: he paid attention to every detail of Baz's movements during their experiments, so Simon could copy him perfectly. He put his towel on the radiator like Baz always told him to instead of leaving it on the floor. He even tolerated Baz practising his violin after nine in the evening.
"You're really good at that," Simon said once, during a pause in Baz's playing, "I never told you before."
Baz's gaze flittered from his music book to Simon, and back again. The hand that was holding his bow froze. "Err...thanks?"
"You're welcome," Simon said promptly, turning back to his laptop screen.
He liked the way Baz blushed at the compliment.
It was dark. Simon was following Baz, hidden by the shadows of the night, but he was sure Baz knew he was there. He didn't know where they were headed – all he knew was that Baz was up to something and Simon was going to find out what it was.
They weaved through the corridors, down passageways that Simon hadn't even known existed. Baz came to an abrupt halt just before a door and whipped round.
Simon didn't even have time to hide, much less invent an alibi. He opened his mouth to speak, watching apprehensively as Baz started forwards, taking slow, menacing steps closer and closer...
In the dim light of the corridor, Simon could just about see Baz stepping towards him, a feral smile on his face. He watched with something akin to awe as Baz's left hand came up to touch his face, his right hand resting on Simon's waist.
Baz's hands were so cold against Simon's skin that he felt like he was on fire.
Simon, the air seemed to whisper, and it was coming from Baz's mouth. Simon.
Simon leaned up; Baz closed in.
"Simon."
He tilted his head just a fraction so that their lips could touch –
"Snow."
Simon woke with a jolt. His entire body jerked, and one of his hands flew to the cheek that he had been certain Baz was touching.
He opened his eyes. The dark-haired boy from his dream stared back at him, with a look on his face that was far too similar to the one Simon had just pictured in his head.
"You're such a heavy sleeper," Baz complained, "Hurry up or else we'll miss Chemistry."
Simon was sure he'd never gone so red in his entire life.
"You go without me," he mumbled, thinking that he'd better take an ice cold shower before his lessons, "I'll catch up."
Baz raised an eyebrow, but followed Simon's instructions. Simon felt half relieved, half disappointed that Baz had listened. He called out just before Baz left the room, "Baz?"
"What, Snow?"
"Did you...did you call me Simon? When you were waking me up?"
Baz locked eyes with Simon. Again, the image of Baz swooping down to kiss him reappeared in his head. But something in his grey eyes hardened, and he said, "No, Snow. We aren't friends, remember?"
Baz's hair was getting long.
Simon didn't even know why he had noticed. It wasn't like he spent all his time looking at Baz (even though he was extremely jealous of the perfect way Baz swept his hair back over his forehead so that it fell elegantly, highlighting his cheekbones) but Simon supposed it was difficult not to notice when your Chemistry partner started tying his hair up into a bun.
It wasn't even a big deal; Simon knew he was being stupid. But he just couldn't help but peer at Baz out of the corner of his eye when he was supposed to be concentrating on some boring titration experiment. Gazing at how, when Baz's hair was tied back, Simon could actually see the sides of his face and his light stubble. He almost reached out to tuck in a lock of Baz's hair that had come loose from his bun.
Simon was rudely extracted from his reverie when Baz put down a bottle of an unidentifiable substance with a loud thump on the table. "Are you stuck?"
"What?"
"Are you stuck on the experiment again?"
"Wha – no. Sorry, just daydreaming."
Baz rolled his eyes. "Listen, I'm aware it's Valentine's Day and all but that doesn't give you a free pass to do fuck all. Wait until after school for your sexual whatsits with Agatha."
Simon frowned, "I didn't even realise it was Valentine's Day. Plus, Agatha dumped me, so. No 'sexual whatsits' for me."
"She did?" Baz said incredulously, and then changed his tone to a more casual one, "I mean – I didn't know that."
"Yeah, something about needing to focus on school or whatever," Simon shrugged, "We were always better off as friends anyway."
"Right...friends." Baz muttered, and that was the end of the conversation.
Simon, for his part, went straight back to staring at the side of Baz's head. I'm so screwed, he thought, but he couldn't care less.
Simon hated Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. Absolutely hated him.
It was bad enough that he'd recently come to the awful conclusion that Baz – no, Pitch – was actually very attractive. Simon had had no less than five dreams that featured some version of Baz and him together, and he was honestly starting to get a little sick of it, mainly because he knew his feelings would never be reciprocated.
No, the thing that was really pissing him off about Basilton Pitch was that the boy was currently holding hands with Agatha Wellbelove: Simon's ex-girlfriend.
Simon was all too aware that it was a bit rich for him to be angry at Baz, because he'd been a rubbish boyfriend to Agatha – no doubt Baz would be a lot better. But that didn't stop his blood boiling in his veins as he watched the pair, standing together on the edge of the football pitch, looking picture perfect.
Baz laughed at something Agatha said, and she beamed back at him, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger. Simon's hands clenched into fists, and he sprinted all the way back to his room, glaring at the ground all the way.
"You weren't at dinner," Baz noted the minute he came through the door. Simon was lying on his bed, arms crossed tightly so that he closely resembled an angry corpse.
"Well observed," Simon replied, wishing his bed would just swallow him whole.
He listened to the sounds of Baz taking off his football boots and jumper. "Why?"
"Wasn't hungry."
The noises Baz was making stopped, only to be replaced by a burst of laughter, "Simon Snow, not hungry? What is the world coming to?"
Simon wasn't laughing, and a moment later, Baz noticed.
"What really happened?"
Slowly, Simon propped himself up with his hands so he could shift his glower from the ceiling to Baz. "What were you doing with Agatha?"
Baz raised an eyebrow whilst tidying his desk. Simon felt the urge to take him by the chin just so he'd look at him. "Agatha Wellbelove?" Baz asked casually.
A flare of irritation sparked in Simon's chest, "What other Agatha goes to our school?" Then, when it became evident that Baz wasn't going to reply, "What were you doing with Agatha on the pitch?"
Finally, Baz turned to look at him, an infuriating smirk on his mouth, "How is that any of your business?"
Simon suppressed a growl and got up, stomping over to Baz, "Agatha's my friend, Pitch. I don't want you messing with her."
Baz tilted his head back with a cool, superior look, "Are you jealous, Snow? Trying to get back with her?"
"No," Simon said, his voice raising in volume, "I just don't want you near her –"
"She's not your property, Snow," Baz pointed out, lip curling upwards. Simon wanted to punch him, or kiss the look off his face – maybe both. Both sounded good.
"Stop interrupting me," Simon's hands clenched into fists. Baz didn't miss the movement.
"Going to beat me up? Thought you were better than that," Baz had the audacity to chuckle, "Perfect Simon Snow, good at everything except his lessons –"
"Shut the fuck up, Baz."
"Little Simon Snow with his sidekick Bunce and his trophy girl Wellbelove –"
"They aren't –"
"Too bad, Snow. You saw Agatha with me on the pitch, right? She wants me. Not you."
"You lay a hand on her and I'll –"
"You'll what, Snow? You gonna use the headmaster as a way of getting out of trouble again? Oh wait, you do that all the time –"
Simon had had enough. Faster than light, he clapped a hand over Baz's mouth.
Baz didn't even flinch. Instead, he narrowed his grey eyes. Then – "Ouch! What the fuck, Baz?"
He had bitten Simon's finger, hard. Baz must have had fairly sharp teeth, because when Simon inspected his hand he found two bright red lines marked into his skin.
"You're a fucking psycho, Baz..." he trailed off. Baz had reached out to cup the sides of Simon's face between his hands. His palms were cold against Simon's burning face, like ice melting into flames. The movement might have been violent, but Baz's touch was soft, tentative – not forceful.
He thought about pushing Baz away, considered punching him right in the face. Instead, he leant into Baz's hands, tipping his head up and forwards. Baz met him halfway, and his mouth closed over Simon's.
Baz's hands might have been freezing, but his lips were warm. Smooth and pliant, moving seamlessly against Simon's. Simon moved his hands to rest on Baz's shoulders almost of their own accord as he kissed him furiously, slipping his tongue across the sharp edges of teeth that had just bitten him.
Baz tasted like chocolate, dark and rich. His scent was woodsy – Simon had already known that – but up close, the smell was amplified, like they had suddenly been transported to a faraway forest. Simon pulled Baz's plush lower lip between his teeth, almost as retaliation, but he was too careful, too slow to be vengeful.
Baz pulled away first, eyes wide. Simon wished he could lean back in and kiss him again, but he stopped himself.
"Why did you do that?" Baz looked like he was in a trance.
"You kissed me," Simon said defensively, "So I kissed you back."
A pause. "I wanted to," Baz said. Never before had Simon heard him say something that was so unabashed, so honest.
"So did I."
The next pause was longer. Simon took the time to study Baz – his face, usually quite pale, was flushed, his lips were glistening, red as cherries. His grey eyes were blown wide with – confusion? Desire? Simon wasn't sure, but he expected he was in a similar state.
He decided to speak. "Listen, Baz. I'm not – I mean, I don't know what I'm doing. I never really do, and you know that. I thought I was straight and you were with Agatha and I –"
"I'm not with Agatha," Baz interrupts, "She just fancies me, that's all. I don't like her that way."
"Right. Well, the point is that I'm at a bit of a loss. You've always hated me, I've always hated you, and that's the way we're used to being."
"That's not the way I want to be."
Simon is almost stunned into silence by his honesty. Almost.
"Then why didn't you say anything before? Why didn't you just – I dunno, be civil? Nice? We could have been friends at least –"
"I don't want to be friends," Baz said loudly, then lowered his voice as if he'd realised what he just said, "I mean, I want more. I know it's not fair for me to expect that of you and that's why I'm so – such a dick to you. It's just easier that way."
"What's easier?" Simon asked incredulously, "I don't understand you – one minute you're yelling and insulting me, next minute you're kissing me and telling me you want to be – what, my boyfriend?"
"It's easier not to love you if I try to hate you!" Baz burst out. He was shaking all over. Simon had never seen him look so affected by anything, "I get it, alright Simon? I get that you think this was a mistake. It's fine. I'll just – I'll leave you alone."
"What – Baz?"
But Baz was already shoving his feet into his shoes, not even bothering to do up the laces as he swept out of the room.
"Wait!" Simon called just as the door slammed.
He looked at the door, at the spot Baz had just been standing. Simon placed a finger to his lips and swore.
a/n: sorry for the angst! the last part should be up soon, please review :)