wiped out! - snowbaz

3 - baz

        

everything is hurting, and he is panicking. it feels like his head is going to explode, blood beating and his ears, dark spots clouding his vision.

this always happens. he will implode, destroying himself from the inside out, and then there will be nothing left. nothing but a shell.

okay baz. focus. you can do this. breathe.

simon snow. oh god, he's messed up. simon probably hates him now, probably despises his very existence. why did he have to ruin everything? why? goddamn it.

all because of some stupid, stupid bruises.

and he's trying to let them heal, but his father can't seem to control his temper, and he keeps making new ones. and now snow hates him. the only friend he ever had.

-----

he walks home. it's a long walk, but he figures that he needs the exercise. baz's parents actually have a kinda ridiculous amount of money, like so much that you'd expect baz to be driven to school in his father's jaguar every day, but baz would literally rather die than be stuck in an enclosed space with his father for half an hour. although, in fairness, baz would choose death over a lot of things. he quite likes the idea of dying.

baz lets himself in the side door and slips off his converse. he's not supposed to wear them to school, but sod what his father thinks. he much prefers his stepmother.

the truth about baz's family is that they're not as perfect as you might think. for instance, baz would rather like to set fire to his sister mordelia while she's sleeping. and his father is, quite frankly, a bit of a knob. his stepmother's alright, but every time mordelia calls her "mummy" with that awful simpering voice, baz is reminded of his mum. and how it's his fault she's dead.

she died in childbirth. "complications" is the word his father always uses. that's baz; a complication that nobody really needs. the worst part is that he honestly believes that- that his mother's death is his fault, that nobody needs him- and nobody's there to tell him otherwise. so maybe he'll go on thinking that until he dies.

"basilton? get up here."

baz's stomach immediately falls to his toes. if his father is shouting down the stairs at him, something bad's gonna happen, because his father is one of those "come downstairs if you want to talk to me" people. (baz kinda hates it, honestly.)

"basilton. i had an... interesting call from one of your teachers this afternoon. apparently you've been fighting in school. explain yourself."

he stands there, silver hair catching in the dim light from his desk lamp, making his face look eerily dark. but baz can still see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"it wasn't me that was fighting, dad- i was just there, i didn't-"

"i don't bloody well care if it was you or the goddamn queen of england. do not stain this family's name more than you already have. understand me?"

baz nods, but his father reaches out and grabs him by the throat.

"understand me?"

"yes."

"yes, sir."

"yes sir."

and then baz's father spits in his face.

-----

baz is crying before he even reaches the bathroom. why does simon bloody snow have to ruin everything for him? he didn't ask the new kid to take a shine to him. he hasn't even been nice to him! goddamn it.

mordelia is hanging in the doorway.

"why are you crying, basilton?"

"sod off, mordelia."

"i heard daddy telling you off. is it true you hit someone?"

"no, mordelia, just sod off."

"daddy was ever so cross earlier. he threatened to throw you out."

"mordelia, this is your last chance to sod off back to the firey depths of hell where you belong before i throttle you."

"you're not allowed to be rude to me. i'm telling mummy."

"you do that."

"i am. i'm telling on you."

"go and bloody tell then, mordelia. i hope it gives you immeasurable joy."

mordelia runs out of the room. baz sinks to the floor. he's so goddamn tired of this game- pretending not to care and then actually caring so much that it hurts.

-----

"hey."

snow steps onto the bus on monday morning, carrying a big cardboard box and a nervous smile.

"morning snow. listen, i-"

"i'm apologising, not you. i'm sorry. for prying."

he hands baz the box.

"for you."

baz opens the box. inside are three vinyls in their covers. danger days, three cheers, and...

"hey, what's this one?"

"vessel. by twenty one pilots. they're my favourite band, and i thought you might like them."

"thank you. thank you, simon."

"you called me simon!"

"no i didn't. shut up, snow."

"arrogance doesn't suit you, basil."

so baz has his friend back, and that's pretty damn awesome. but the only problem is that baz has feelings, and baz's feelings like to pop up when they're unwanted.

like now.

because simon snow is actually pretty cute. with his blue blue eyes and his freckles.

damnit.

-----

a few weeks later, snow invites baz to his house after school. so at break, when snow's off buying scones with the bunce girl, he calls his stepmother.

"basilton?"

"hi, uhm... i got invited to a friend's house after school tomorrow. can i go?"

"i suppose. what time will you be back?"

"uh... eight?"

"fine."

snow appears behind him, grinning and holding a napkin. baz can see three golden scones dozing in the paper, and he can't resist. he plucks one out of snow's hands and takes a bite. delicious.

"hi, baz. you're in my maths, right?"

penelope bunce is stood awkwardly next to simon. she's carrying at least half a dozen chunky library books and she has bright purple hair.

"yeah, i think so."

and it's awkward. so awkward. simon stands between them, carrying the conversation and pretending that it isn't painful. but then bunce mentions sherlock, and baz's head immediately snaps up. he grins.

"hey, you watch sherlock? i love that show!"

"oh my god, do i. i ship johnlock like- hell, i luxury cruise johnlock."

"johnlock is the ship of dreams!"

and then baz finds himself laughing and making all these little references that simon doesn't get and suddenly the bell is ringing and he's made another friend.

maybe he should just try to forget that simon's cute. just maybe, his feelings won't get in the way. not this time.