SIMON
Baz looks happy, really happy, when he comes in the door. He was over at his place, well, his aunt Fiona's place. He sleeps over there a few nights a week, the nights he has early classes to get to the next morning. "I don't need any extra distractions in the morning, Snow." He's still very serious about school, even though we're not at Watford anymore.
I'm happy to say that he spends a lot of time here, at Penny's and my flat, too. It's a relief that he and Penny get on so well. I got a hint of that near the end of our time at Watford, but I could tell that for all of the witty banter and deep magicosophical conversations they had (Penny says that's a real thing), she never completely trusted him. "That's your fault!" she said when I brought it up. "Great snakes, Simon! You go around for seven years, seven years, giving me detailed lists of all the reasons I shouldn't trust him and then you expect me to forget everything you've said overnight because your evil vampire arch enemy is suddenly your evil vampire boyfriend?"
"Kind and misunderstood vampire boyfriend."
"I'll give you nicer-than-he-seemed-when-he-was-genuinely-plotting-against-you vampire boyfriend, but really, Simon!"
But evil or misunderstood, here he is, with an actual smile on his face, and I'm so happy to see him, he's been gone a lot this week, spending time with Fiona. I can't help myself, even before he's got his coat all the way off, I'm across the room, reaching my arms around him to pull him into a big hug. "I've missed you Baz." I breathe into his cheek.
"You too." He keeps smiling and kisses me, tantalizingly, right next to my mouth.
"Why the good mood?" I ask, and that's a mistake, because he's suddenly pulling away from me, smile dimming, and now he's standing with his arm still loosely around me, but somehow apart. He tries to smile again, and succeeds in appearing friendly, but cool, like somebody else's boyfriend.
"Hey..sorry...what..."
He rolls his eyes and moves towards the couch, the arm that was around my waist slipping off, forgotten.
"What are you...why...why were you smiling when you came in?" I try again, lamely. Penny's ceased all her activity across the the room and isn't making any effort to hide the fact that she's watching us, her brow furrowed. I follow Baz but don't sit down, he tries the fake smile again and adjusts his position so that he looks at ease, straight back leaning into the couch, one hand behind his head. I recognize this devil-may-care attitude, and it doesn't bring back fond memories. "Fiona gave me my birthday gift early, since she'll be gone, it's a ticket to the symphony. That's why I was smiling. I haven't been in ages."
BAZ
"Just one ticket, Baz?" Bunce is far too on the ball.
"Mmm." I try for a noncommittal sound, and move my head a bit, in a way that might be construed as a nod.
Her eyes narrow. Simon has moved away from the door and is standing over me. Usually I enjoy looking up at him like this, he's like a tawny god when the light hits him in the right way, it's so good I don't even mind the shades being open, but now his expression is wavering between hurt and suspicious. I have a momentary impulse to stand and embrace him, apologize for hurting him even the slightest bit, and invite him to the concert with me, but there's a tight knot right in the center of my chest that won't let me.
"That seems...odd." He says. "Don't people usually go to these things with someone? Why didn't she get one for herself...or...or..."
"For you, Snow?" I raise an eyebrow. He colors. "Beats me," I say languidly, "This is Fiona were talking about. Maybe she didn't want to waste the money on you. You've never actually heard a live orchestra, have you?"
"What do you think? It's not like they dressed all of us up at the home in our Sunday best and took us into London for a day out, is it?"
"I'd say that's a no then, since your friend the Mage did away with all of Watford's musical ensembles well before we arrived."
SIMON
Even though Baz had good reason to hate the Mage, he doesn't usually talk about him like this in front of me, what with him being like a father to me for so long, and then the way he died. I'm taken aback, but I'm trying to give Baz the benefit of the doubt here. I don't want to be fighting, and this is starting to feel dangerously close. "Maybe I could get myself a ticket and go with you," I say. "It could be a laugh."
"A laugh? It's not a day at the seaside, Snow. You have no idea what you're talking about. You'd do better to stay here and catch up on your coursework."
PENELOPE
Simon is standing, gaping at Baz. I feel myself staring in disbelief too. Baz hasn't been this nasty to him in a long time. And he was so happy when he arrived, it was like he'd let his guard down and now is trying to make up for it by saying the worst things he can think of. He hasn't behaved like this since before he and Simon were together, since the days when he put most of his energy into pushing Simon away deliberately, so that he wouldn't risk exposing his feelings.
Hmmm.
I take a closer look at Baz. Under Simon's gaze he's dropped the laid back attitude and now his right hand is balled up into a tight fist. If he wasn't already so pale, I expect his knuckles would look white. His other hand has moved to his leg and he begins absently, but forcefully, running it up and down his thigh. I look back up at his face, and I think I catch a momentary shift from impenetrable calm to, what is that? pain? distress of some other sort? It's fleeting, but I'm fairly certain of what I saw.
BAZ
Bunce is annoyingly perceptive sometimes. Her dark eyes can be piercing, and she's just flicked them back and forth between my hand, which I realize I've been running up and down my leg, like a nervous schoolboy, and my face, and then softened her gaze. Snakes' sakes, I hope she keeps her thoughts to herself. I deliberately take my hand off my leg and lean my elbow on the back of the couch.
SIMON
Baz's expression is neutral. I can't read him at all. He stays seated for another minute, looking right through me, then he's up, strolling across the room to Penny, where he picks up right in the middle of a conversation the two of them were having earlier in the week about the relative merits of using dialectic pronunciation in spells. She tilts her head at me over his shoulder, and lowers her eyebrows in a silent question. I have no idea what just happened, so I shrug. Baz is clearly planning on ignoring me. My earlier excitement at seeing him is gone. I don't even want to be in the same room with him right now, so I stomp down the corridor to my bedroom, slam the door closed, and pound my fist into the pillow in frustration.
PENELOPE
Baz keeps on talking about dialect theory, but I see his shoulders lower and his whole body relax as soon as Simon is out of the the room.
"Ok Baz." I cut him off mid-sentence "What's going on?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Bunce." His back is stiff again, he looks two inches taller, and he's sneering down his nose at me. Classic.
He used to make me nervous when he looked like this, but I know him too well now. Instead of backing off, which is what he's hoping for, I walk over to him and take his hand. He flinches but doesn't break away. I flinch slightly too. I forgot he would feel so cold. When I pull him gently in the direction of the couch, he only resists for a moment before he's sitting down next to me, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, eyes on the floor.
"So?"
"It's stupid." His voice is muffled. His face is still in his palms, and he's talking to the floor.
"Stupid is coming in here with a big grin on your face and then turning right around and snarling at your boyfriend until he goes and hides in his room. Whatever's going on, it had better be good." I'm getting irritated. He's doing exactly what a small part of me is always afraid he's going to do, attack Simon for no reason, when no one's expecting it. It's what Simon spent years training me to be on the lookout for and despite the fact that I'd largely started ignoring him by seventh year it's still in the back of my mind, even though the circumstances have changed. The annoying thing is, I like Baz now too, and I'm as worried about him as I am about Simon.
"It's not good. I already said that it's stupid."
"Ok. Care to tell me about it?"
He stares at the floor for a full minute before speaking again. "There are two tickets. Fiona gave me two tickets to the symphony. I'm supposed to take Simon with me, but I lied about it, and now I'm a terrible person."
"Why did you lie? Don't you want to take Simon?"
BAZ
I sigh. That's the question, isn't it. That, and why this thing that was intended to make me happy, that did make me happy, is now tying my stomach in knots. Do I want him there?
"No. Yes. I mean yes. Really. I'd love to have him there, if he'd enjoy it, but Simon...he's so...he wouldn't...I can't..."
"Baz, you sound like him." Penny's smiling. "Are you afraid he won't like it? You know he'll try, for you."
"That's not enough."
"You can't ask him to do more than that."
"I'm not asking him to. I'm not...I don't know what I'm doing."
"Why is this a big deal? It's not like you're asking him to defend you in a duel."
PENELOPE
His eyes flick towards me, surprised and annoyed, then away again. "It's a concert, it's music, why can't you enjoy it with him?"
Silence. Baz looks like he's struggling to speak, but losing the battle. It's unlike him to be at a loss for words.
"What are you afraid will happen, Baz? And don't say 'nothing'. That's clearly not true."
Baz has been looking down at the floor or up at the ceiling the whole time he's been talking, but now he turns his face towards me. The only word to describe it is anguished which, honestly, surprises me. I don't feel like we're talking about an anguish-grade dilemma here. "I don't know how to explain this to you. Music is...I'm...It's...Penny, I don't have a soul."
How is this relevant? "Simon says that you do."
"He would say anything just to be nice."
"Because he loves you, Baz." He rolls his eyes and looks away again.
"Do you want to hear what I have to say or not, Bunce?"
I do. This isn't making any sense to me yet, but I want it to. I have to trust that he can make me see why this is a problem so that we can get to work on finding a way to solve it. "Yes, I do. Go on."
BAZ
I'm afraid that the music won't mean anything to Simon, won't make him feel anything, when it means so much to me. It's like fifth year all over again, I'm dying from wanting him to feel the same thing as me, but I'm unwilling to even bring it up because I'm terrified that he won't. I want him to love the experience as much as I do, not because he's making an effort for me, but because he's genuinely feeling it.
And as if that isn't an unfair enough standard to hold him to, there's worse. I'm ashamed of myself for this, but if I'm honest, I have to admit that I'm also afraid Snow will embarrass me. He didn't have the upbringing I did, he won't know know what to wear, how to behave, when to applaud, and I don't want to feel like I'm responsible for chaperoning a seven year old through his first Cultural Experience.
I dislike admitting this to Snow, but I enjoy looking up to him. I like having a boyfriend that I can admire and try to live up to, and I know I'm not being fair to him, but if I take him to the symphony with me I don't want to have to tell him everything he needs to do to get it right, I want him to just get it right. I am unable to think of any part of this I could reasonably explain to him. How much of it can I explain to Bunce?
"You're not going to tell Simon about this are you?"
"About what, Baz? You still haven't said a word." She purses her lips, I'm clearly pushing her limits, and I really could use some help sorting this out, from a (hopefully) neutral third party. (Maybe this is why Simon enjoys talking to his therapist?)
"I don't know how to explain this." But apparently I'm going to attempt it all the same. "I don't know if it will make any sense to you."
"Well, so far it hasn't. Would you please stop stalling and get to the point?"
"The truth is, that no matter what rosy fantasy Snow would like to you believe, I'm 99% certain I have no soul, but when I'm playing music, or completely surrounded by it, the empty feeling is less, it almost goes away. It's like..."
"Like what, Baz?"
My voice is quiet. I don't know if Bunce will even hear, but I don't care. "It's like music is my soul."
Penelope is silent for a moment. Maybe she didn't hear. Then, softly, "Just tell him Baz. He'll understand. He's suffered losses too, not the same ones that you have, but he'll be able to accept what you're saying."
How can I explain to her that I don't want to have to tell Simon this? I want him to just understand it, on his own, and the risk that he won't is too great.
I shake my head. "No Penny, I can't do it."
"Ugh! Baz! You're making a mountain out of a...well...a much smaller mountain. This would be far less infuriating if I didn't like you." I raise an eyebrow at her and she swats at me, but playfully, not like she means it. Fiona could take lessons. "You know what I mean. I don't know who to feel worse for right now, Simon or you. You're both pathetic, but at the moment you're being more pathetic. I can't stand my friends being angry with each other, just go in there and talk to him, all right?"
Friends? That's interesting. Have I made Bunce's short list so,quickly? If I wasn't so preoccupied by my own idiocy I might take the time to be flattered.
I stand up and Bunce gives me an encouraging smile, which disintegrates when I turn and walk straight out the front door.
