Otp Prompt #20: Simon and Baz broke up a year ago, and after all that time, they see each other again at a club. Will an old flame re-spark, or is leaving it put out for the best?
Warning: This doesn't have outright spoilers, but it kind of hints at a few WS things. Also; this is very much not a super fluffy fic. This is a lot more angst than fluff.
*Baz's POV*
It's been a year. A year since I have held Simon Snow in my arms. A year since I've kissed him and told him I loved him. For 365 days, I've barely scraped by in this bloody worthlessness of an existence. And I will be drawn and fucking quartered if I manage to stay sober tonight. I can't stop thinking about how he ended it.
"Baz, I just- I can't!" Simon looked at me like he was tired. Tired of what?
"You can't what, Snow? You can't touch me? I don't care! I love you!" We were shouting in our apartment. We were just kissing when he had pulled away and started to shout. He tugged at his hair then, and his tail was whipping around furiously.
"I can't... I can't do this. Baz, I think I need some... some time. I just can't be with you in the way you want me to be."
"Snow, anywhere you are is where I want to be. I don't care if you don't talk to me or touch me. I don't even care if you look at me. I can't be happy without you," I was trying (and failing) not to cry. He had been crying too, and it felt like the world was finally ending. "Please, Simon. We can work this out."
He paused for a moment, seeming like maybe he wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that we could fix the broken mess that was us. He just shook his head. "I-I'm sorry." He looked away from me. With a sigh, I left our apartment and slammed the door behind me. I didn't go back.
When someone says that they're done with you, they mean it. When someone tosses you to the side like some piece of fucking trash, do you stay and fight for them, or accept that all you are to them is garbage? When someone says they don't give a bloody shit about you... they probably genuinely don't give a shit. Simon Snow told me to leave. Told me that he didn't want me anymore. (Honestly, I wasn't surprised. I had always waited for the day when he changed his mind. He finally did.) I could have stayed and fought for someone who didn't want me or I could have fucked right off. To me, the answer was simple.
I left. When I was younger and living with Simon at Watford, I spent everyday telling myself that it would end in flames. I suppose it finally did. It ended in huge, evil-eyed and hungry flames. It got better after a few months. I got a job as a barista for the time being until I can get a real job. (I made sure it wasn't a coffee shop that Snow ever went to.) Everything was going just bloody fine until this morning, the anniversary of our break-up. I woke up in a sweat from a nightmare (of Snow dying, of course. Irony is the bitch- not karma) and rolled over, reaching for and trying to find Simon. He wasn't there, of course. I went to the shower and cried until it felt as though my lungs would collapse if I didn't stop. (I'm not so sure they didn't.)
Now, here I am, putting on a jacket to go to a club. Not to get laid or dance (I could never be with anyone who's not Snow), but to get completely shit-faced and momentarily forget the pain that comes with loving Simon Snow.
The night sky is taunting and teasing me. The stars wrap around each other, dancing and twinkling together like even the sun itself couldn't separate them. (I went dancing with Simon, once. He was clumsy, and I thought it was cute) (stop fucking thinking, Basilton.) It's clear and the night air is sharp on my face, though I'm too lost in my thoughts to really notice. My apartment is straight across from a good bar that I go to every now and then. (My apartment looks nothing like my old one; I also had to buy all new things. I never bothered picking up my old ones from Simon and I's old apartment.)
Every Saturday the bar has a new theme. Tonight the theme is Western, judging by the ghastly amount of spurs and fringe I see as I walk in. People line dance every which way, and a few truly tabled people beckon me over to dance with them. (If I'm not as hammered as them in the next hour, I might just set myself on fire.) I make a beeline straight to the bar and order a scotch, flat. I need as much undilute alcohol in my system as I can get tonight.
Just as I down my third drink of the night, I look over to see none other than Simon fucking Snow in the middle of the crowd. I think of the stars again.
*Simon's POV*
I did not give him permission to look so fucking good a year after I broke up with him. I came to this godforsaken bar hoping to get away from just the very thought of Baz. Now here he is, handsome enough to make all of the stars in the night sky bow down to him. He doesn't see me yet, which is good because I have a little bit longer to just stare at him. His jeans fit him perfectly (as always), and he even manages to make a t-shirt and jacket look posh. (In a bloody good way.) Half of his hair is tied up in a bun, the rest falling down in crazy strands.
Penny wanted to come out with me tonight, but I insisted that I come alone. I told her I needed to get over Baz. (I don't see how that can fucking happen when he's right here in front of me.) In the past year, I've either been sleeping, eating or crying. When I broke up with him and he stormed off... I didn't think he'd actually stay gone. I thought he'd stay and fight. And when he didn't, I at least thought that he would come back to get his stuff and I could get him to stay. But he never came back. I spent the first month crying into his shirts and inhaling his scent of cedar and bergamot that he left behind. I spent the second month laying on our couch, waiting for him to come through the door. I spent the third sleeping excessively, even when I wasn't tired. The fourth, I went out looking for him. I looked at nearby coffee shops, book stores and even at his aunt Fiona's. (She shut the door in my face right after cussing me out.)
I spent every month after that eating, crying and sleeping. Barely getting up long enough to change. After a year, I thought maybe it was time to come out again. (I was wrong.) But here he is, looking as beautiful and Baz as ever, and all I want to do is curl up in his arms and be guarded from the rest of the world.
But before I can walk over and talk to him, he sees me. He holds my stare for a few moments (his eyes as grey and perfect as ever) before he abruptly gets up, nearly knocking the bar stool over, and gets lost in the crowd of sweaty bodies. I need to try and find him.
*Baz's POV*
Stars. I'm seeing stars. I can't see straight, I can't think straight. When I met Simon's eyes, he looked sad. (Sad? Sad.) He looked hopeful. (Yes, I think it was bloody hope that I saw there.) He looked like a chubby, kicked puppy that hadn't seen the light of day in years. (Good. I hope he fucking regrets dumping my bloody arse.) (I also hope he's having a good life. I hate myself.) I told myself I wouldn't dance. (I'm not good at any dance that isn't a waltz.) I promised myself that I would glue my arse to the bar stool and drink until I couldn't walk without falling every few seconds. I promised myself that I would drink until my head throbbed and I couldn't even think anymore. It turns out that seeing Simon has the same effect.
As soon as he started walking towards me, I sprang up (stumbling a little) and bolted into the crowd. I can't talk to him. I can't look at him without wanting to snog him silly and then hit him and then bite him, and then snog him again. (After all these years, my feelings for Snow are still warped.) Now, even though I can barely see because of the tears in my eyes, apparently I'm dancing seductively to a country song about girls with a man. A man my age. He's good-looking yes, but I'm not sure how I got here. How I started dancing. (Maybe I am a little drunk.) The man has his hands on my hips, and my arms are around his neck and I feel his breath and he's close close close.
But as soon as the music switches to the next song, he's gone and the song is now a slower one. I don't know where to go when I see Simon standing ten feet away from me, standing perfectly still, staring right back at me. I refuse to lose my cool more than I already have. I keep my face perfectly still and I don't move my feet, even as he takes a step closer. I don't run. (I don't run to him or away from him, which are the two things my heart wants most right now.) He's still so beautiful. So heart-breakingly alive.
As he gets closer to me, it's like everything else freezes; for just a second. Everything else melts away, and it's just me and him. The slow music plays far, far away and the only heat I feel is the heat radiating from him. He smiles such a sad smile that I have to smile back. It's a smile of strangers; a smile two people might share when not seeing each other for years and years. (Every day away from him felt like a year.) But right now- right this very second- time is slowing, just for me. Just like a gift (and a curse). It's a gift and a curse as he gets so close that I can smell his breath. A gift and a curse that I can feel his heart thrum, and see the specks of ordinary dark blue in his ordinary light blue eyes. A gift and a curse as he wraps two arms around my neck, pressing impossibly closer. I hesitantly (which takes everything in me) wrap my arms around his waist and press my forehead to his as we sway back and forth to the music playing light years away.
Looking into his (extra)ordinary eyes, I see all of the love that was there once upon a time. I see stars twinkle and waltz in his eyes. The stars in his eyes tease me, flicking all down my face. From my eyes to my mouth, then back to my eyes. Simon leans forward and up on his toes in my ear and says "I love you Baz," and as he pulls back, he ever-so-gently pushes his lips against mine. Here he his, saying the things I've wanted to hear for years, kissing me and doing that thing with his jaw, and I don't feel it. He broke my heart. Ripped it from my chest, danced on it, and then kept the pieces for himself. It was a fate worse than death. I can't feel it. This is wrong.
*Simon's POV*
Aleister Crowley, this is so right. Morgan, Methuselah and Morgana. Everything from the past, even back to our Watford days, have been leading up to this. Fireworks. It's like if all of the planets, the sun and every single star combined and exploded. That is this kiss. His mouth is soft and cold, just as I remember it. My heart is full of so much love, and our bodies fit back together like puzzle pieces. Apparently Baz is the very fucking air I breathe, because as soon as I pressed my lips to his, it's like my whole body bloody sighed. Like I was filled with oxygen, and I could finally finally release it again.
Which is why, when he springs away like I've burned him, it feels as though all of the air is ripped from my lungs. He stumbles back and looks at me the way he used to when we were back at Watford. With disgust, revulsion and a little bit of sadness. His eyes fill with tears as he takes off out of the bar. I chase after him, trying to call after him, but he doesn't turn around. I'll never be as fast as him by running, but I have wings. I didn't have Penny make them completely disappear this time- just veil them. People were running into them all night, but when I saw Baz, I mostly just didn't notice. But now I lift off into the sky, flying over him and trying to remain as discreet as possible. (Penny would have a bloody fit if she saw me being so indiscreet about it. But all I care about right now is Baz.)
Looking above my shoulder, I see the stars light up the night sky in unison, like they're working together. Like they should never and could never be separated. I'll bet the stars aren't as stupid as me; they probably never yell meaningless things at each other. They look so beautiful together... they're taunting me.
*Baz's POV*
I run and I run and I run until I can't run anymore. I just have to get away. Away from Simon, away from the bar, away from the memories. I run like I'm trying to get away from all of London itself.
*Simon's POV*
He finally stops on the top of a hill. He falls down and his chest heaves like he's out of breath- I think he might be crying, too. I just need to talk to him. I land down a few feet from him as he rolls over on his back, staring up at the sky. I walk over to him, but he doesn't look at me. He just keeps staring up.
"Baz?" I ask gently. Softly; like I'm carefully stepping on glass.
"Don't, Snow." He says simply, sighing. My heart tightens.
"But, Baz-" I push.
"Simon... please. Don't- just... just not right now." I nod and stay silent as I lay beside him, trying to ignore the way it hurts my wings. I don't try to reach out. I simply enjoy being by his side without him pushing me away. I can't make him love me if he doesn't... but I sure as bloody hell won't give up on us this time.
*Baz's POV*
Simon is lying beside me. I'm looking at the sky. At the stars. At us, in a way. Just like stars, we feel thousands of miles away. It feels like we'll never come together again. (When two stars collide, it either makes a bigger star or a black hole. We made... well, we just made a bloody mess, didn't we?) We stay like this for a long time, staring off into the night, not saying anything. The stars still dance together; orbiting each other without crashing and burning.
The stars taunt us.