OTP Prompt #32: Simon and Baz travel back in time to their sixth year at Watford
~ Hello, my loves! This prompt is for @jellyjaranime! I hold this one very close to my heart, because lately I've been feeling very similar things to the ones I write about in this part. It turned into something that I didn't expect it to. I sincerely hope you all enjoy this one! I would recommend listening to some songs while reading. I would say:
- I Can't Make You Love my by Bonnie Raitt
- Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word by Elton John
- Anxiety by Julia Michaels
- I Can't Breathe by Bea Miller
- Breathe Me by Sia
- Breathin by Ariana Grande
- Animal by Troye Sivan
- Naked by James Arthur
Without further ado, enjoy! ~
TW: This is angsty, and it does have a lot of in depth descriptions of anxiety.
*Simon's POV*
I don't think I knew what I was doing when I decided this would be a good idea. (Actually, I knew exactly what I was bloody doing. I just couldn't really... tell anyone.) It was just all getting to be... too much. And I thought that if I... did what I did... that maybe I could- I dunno. Show Baz that we are better now? It sounds stupid thinking about it now, and I don't know why I did it. I always fuck everything up, and even I know this was too much.
I knew Baz wasn't happy; how could he have been? I know I told him I'd be a terrible boyfriend and he said okay, but I don't think he was expecting all this. I was at the point that I wanted to cut out my own fucking tongue because I couldn't just communicate. I couldn't really say anything. I couldn't break up with him, I couldn't tell him I love him, I could barely even say 'pass the cider'. And it was driving me crazy. I don't quite know how to explain what it is I feel for him.
I just know that when I see him, my heart feels like it stops and gets revived all at once.
When I hear his voice, I feel like there's no better sound in the world.
Even if we're just sitting next to each other, it feels like we're the only two people in the world. Like as long as I'm with him I - we - can do anything.
Every bloody time I'm with him, I feel infinite. I wish I could put those things I feel into words for him. (Even if I don't even know what they are.)
But I couldn't. I never can. And so that's why I thought that maybe I could show him. I could show him that even though I may be a complete bloody fuckup - a disaster - that it's better than it was when we were still fighting at Watford. Because anything is better than fighting, yeah? So I had gone to Penny, acting like a complete loon. I don't think she could make much sense of me, and maybe that's why she agreed to help.
"Pen, please!" I had begged. I was pathetic- even to myself. My hair was a bloody mess from tugging on it so much (Baz used to tease me for that. He hadn't in a... long time.)
"Simon, I love you, and you know I would do anything for you. But I just can't help you-" She was standing firm and resolute, but I knew I could wear her down. I had to.
"Yes you fucking can! Penny, I have to show him that I lo-" I could feel my breathing starting to quicken and my thoughts begin to muddle, so I cut myself of. "That I care about him. And this might be the only way," I moved closer to her, reaching out to take one of her hands. "Please." Something in her eyes changed when she saw that I almost said I loved Baz. (Of course I do- how couldn't I?)
She nodded slowly - and barely - but it was there. She was going to help me. "Fine. Of course I will, Si. Let me go through some books and see what I can find."
And that brings us to today. Penny found a spell that could spell Baz and I back to when we were in Watford. I begged Pen this morning not to tell Baz what she was doing, and she very reluctantly agreed. I thanked Crowley ten times over. There was only one thing I had to do. (Which doesn't sound like much, but it was more than I had been doing, lately.)
I had to go over and hug him. And as I had walked over to him, something pulled at my gut and my head was spinning.
It's too much. It's too bloody much to touch him, and you know it. He's fucking pushing you- you feel guilty about not touching him so you are when you're not ready. He doesn't want you, my brain kept telling me. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. I couldn't look at him- I knew if I did I'd back out. Every step was harder than the last. (It shouldn't be so hard to just touch my fucking boyfriend. It shouldn't be. But it is.)
I could feel his eyes on me before I saw them. (It's like that with him. I can feel the tosser's eyes on me no matter where I go. It's bloody infuriating, is what it is.) I was at the foot of our couch where he'd been watching the telly while I took down a cider and focused on not combusting. (Baz taught me that word. At first I thought it was condescending of him. Then I realized it was right nice of him.)
I sat down on the couch next to him and looked at Penny over my shoulder before moving in closer. (When I felt his muscles tense as I leaned in to wrap my arms around him, I tried not to think too much about it. If I did, then. Well... my thoughts spiral faster than they used to.) After a minute, he hesitantly put an arm around my shoulders.
It wasn't that bad. It wasn't that bad. Which, I s'pose, is progress.
The worst part is the best part. I don't quite know how to bloody phrase it (I was bad before I had lost my magic. After is a whole new story), but I don't get it myself, really. All I know is that when he wraps an arm around me, the fire that sparks where his skin touches mine is simultaneously the most terrible and the best thing I've ever felt. It makes me squirm in my skin, but it also makes me squirm in my seat. (My therapist said that was normal, before I quit talking to her. Nothing about me is... normal.)
Just when I thought maybe he was going to say something (he had that look that he always has when he wants to jump me. I can't always tell in what way, though), I could feel Penny's magic wrap around us. "Time After Time" I heard her voice cast softly. (It was a bit shit feeling magic again. It only reminded me of how much I miss it. How much I miss my old life. How much Baz must miss it.)
The last thing I saw before we were pushed back in time was Baz's fearful expression. And I hope that what he saw were my hopeful ones.
...
There comes a day in everyone's lives when they feel
Worthless.
Useless.
Like things won't get better.
Like they fuck up everything with everyone- including their boyfriends.
And it looks like today.
We're here now; back in Watford. (My chest constricts and it takes absolutely bloody everything for my breath to stay steady. We're outside, but the walls feel like they're closing in on me. Is there enough oxygen out here or is it just me?) I'm hand in hand with Baz, and we're standing directly in front of an absolutely gobsmacked set of teenagers in the middle of the pitch. Namely, sixth year Agatha, Simon, Penny, and Baz. I had forgotten how beautiful Baz was- is.
*Baz's POV*
I had forgotten how malnourished Simon was in school. He's beautifully, perfectly built now. I like to keep him well fed; his extra padding is bloody wonderful to hold when he lets me. (He doesn't often let me.) In front of me stands the broken boy whom I love (and have always loved, it seems), only he's much younger and not broken. (Although maybe he was always a little bit broken. I think I was, too. Who's to say I'm not, still?)
Simon's hand twitches in mine, and I don't know if that means he wants to let go or if he wants to hold on tighter. But I don't want to push him, so I go with the former and let his hand go. If he wants it back, he'll take it. (He doesn't.) The young students before us still stare, open-mouthed. Not surprisingly, Bunce is the first one to speak.
"How is this possible? Crowley, I just- time travel?! I don't understand! What the-"
"Fuck. What the fuck is what she's going for." I say. Well... past me, I suppose. (For clarification, we'll say past Baz is PB and past Simon is PS. Merlin... a sentence I never thought I'd have to utter.)
Simon is still immobile, glued to his spot and pathetic. (Not pathetic. He's never quite pathetic, the tosh. Just standing there and looking pretty.) I try and shake out of my stupor, gripping Simon by the upper arm as I turn to everyone else. "If you'll excuse us, a moment." I can't help the sneer that plasters itself onto my face. Seeing PB... well it's not pleasant. I know what goes on in his head. I know that one day... he doesn't even get to fight with Simon anymore. That's the future he gets. We let our father down. I can't look at him.
Despite everyone's protestations and confusion, I get to guide Simon away off to the bleachers. "Snow, what the bloody hell did you do?" I try to be soft with him now, I do. I do. It's just so bloody hard sometimes. (At times I think maybe if I started to not put up with the things that he does... maybe he'd stop. Get better. Then I realize I'm just an insensitive prick.)
Simon shifts his weight from one foot to another- a nervous habit. He also turns his head to the side, looking anywhere but at me. I ignore the pressing my heart feels. I'm used to it by now. He tries to stutter out an excuse, but only choked noises come out.
"Well, I- Penny she, erm. I just thought that maybe if I - if we - came back..." He trails off. I can't tell if it's because he doesn't understand what he's done or if it's because he simply fancied a break in conversation. Either way, I'm not having it, but I'll tolerate it for now. We just need a plan to get back home. (Sometimes I feel like maybe I don't have a real home, anymore. It used to be Watford. Then it was Simon. And now that it's as though I've lost both... well I think perhaps I've lost a bit of myself, too.)
"Whatever, Snow. How do we get back?" I can't help but run a hand through my hair, and when I look back over at the younger group, I see that PB goes to do the same thing, but his hair is slicked. It's always been an anxious habit of mine, I just couldn't do it then. I've since stopped wearing it like that. (Simon says he likes it better unslicked. And after all, who am I to deny him? No one. I'm no one to him. To deny him.)
He's still not looking at me. (Which I suppose is no different than how it was before.) "Penny said... well Penny said the only way to get back was to learn something. But I, um. I dunno what that is, exactly." He's flushing now.
"Let me get this straight. You had Penny spell us to the past without knowing exactly how to get back?" He nods sheepishly. "What a trademark Simon Snow move." I know I shouldn't be rolling my eyes at him. It's dreadful form, and I'm sure it does nothing but make him worse. Distance him even further from me. But at this point, he's just a dot on the horizon. How much further could he possibly bloody get? Even so, I know I'm being insensitive. But how could someone be so thoughtless? So... impossible. I know it's because of his brain. I know that. It's just that for so long, I thought he had been perfect. (Despite what I said.) I thought that nothing could touch him. He was always happy, always- perfectly him.
When I was younger, I was convinced that the sun didn't have a dark side. That Simon kept shining, no matter what, all the time without fail. But now that we're older - and all of the... things have happened - I realize that even the very brightest things have to have a dark side. And Simon is no exception.
*Simon's POV*
I think we should be back to the present now, because I've already learned two things since we've been here.
I should've thought this through a bit more.
Baz talking to me like maybe I'm not so perfect makes me feel those feelings again. The ones that I can't tell if they're good or bad. (I hope to Merlin every day that the good side wins. It wins less and less, these days.)
"S'pose we should go talk to them," I point over at the younger versions of ourselves and look at Baz. He looks like he wants to murder someone. (Someone probably being me. I'd deserve it, I guess. Crowley, it would be nothing compared to what I've put him through. I think maybe I'll put him out of his misery when we get back. Just... not yet. He's still mine. For a little bit, at least.)
"S'pose we should, Snow." His eyes narrow at me before he wanders back over to the others. He hasn't mocked me or called me Snow in months. He must be right pissed. This plan isn't working, yet. Of course it isn't working, the voice in my head whispers. After all... you came up with it, didn't you? He'll never see how you feel now. You don't even know how you feel.
I try to push the thoughts deep in the back of my mind as I stomp off behind Baz to talk to the others with him. I just have to bloody remember that right now, it's just us against them. We're still with each other. On each other's sides. And I've learned that on days where it's hardest to be with him - like today - are the days where it's most important I do.
When we get back over to the group, they're huddled in a group- PS and PB are even standing side by side. It seems like they can't tell if we're dangerous or not. (Sometimes I dunno that, either. I feel dangerous, sometimes. Dangerous to myself. To Baz.) They turn around, and I can't take my eyes off of PB. It only just reminds me of how wrecked I was for the git, back then. (Crowley, I'm still wrecked for him. It's just different, now.)
PS starts talking first. (It's uneasy to hear my voice from before I broke. I was just cracked before... I think I'm more like a broken toy, now.) He directs his attention to my Baz. (Not surprising.) (Is he still my Baz?) "I see you're no different than you are now, prat. Posh. Rude. A bloody-" Penny slaps her hand over his (my?) mouth at the same time that Agatha presses a soft hand to his shoulder.
"Si. Come on, now is not the time." I can tell he's having a hard time calming town. Well, I can feel it more than see it. His - my - magic is starting to overflow. I don't remember what that feels like anymore. What my magic feels like. I only know what it feels like to be around it. And it feels absolutely suffocating.
Before I can let my thoughts spiral, I look at PB. His jaw is set and he looks away from everything else. Then I look at present Baz, and he looks the same. I don't know what's worked me up most- the fact that Agatha is still touching PS or the fact that both Baz's think I don't love him. That I don't care about him. Merlin I was so bloody stupid. (I'm still so bloody stupid.)
Whatever has got me worked up makes me take a step in front of Baz and toward PS. "Don't you dare, you bloody areshole-"
"Simon," I look back to see Baz laying a hand on my shoulder. He's pleading at me with his eyes, and it's the only time he's ever asked for anything, so I stop myself. I settle on letting out a huff and running my hands through my hair. PS and PB look at me bewildered, Agatha seems mildly uninterested (mainly looking at my Baz), and Penny doesn't look surprised. She's probably already figured out we're together. (Are we really, though?)
"Ha! Seems you went soft for me in the future, Snow." PB smirks and looks at his nails, cool as ever. But I can tell now that he's tense. He's still got his jaw tensed and his shoulder muscles are tight. (It's funny how I can tell all these things now, when we're not good, but I couldn't then when I spent all my time stalking him.)
My Baz lets out a scoff and turns to PB. "Quite the opposite, actually." I try to ignore the way his words constrict something in my chest. (Of course I've gone fucking soft for him. He just doesn't know that.) PS and PB throw uneasy glances at each other, and no one says anything for a long time.
"Why the fuck are you being nice to... him?" PS spits. (I really was just a ball of emotions and anger and magic. Looking back at him, I think maybe- maybe losing my magic was for the best. Maybe everything was.)
It takes everything in me not to growl. (Old habits die hard.) "Because. We're... well, we're, erm-" Baz cuts me off.
"We're on fine terms at the moment, Snow. That's why. I see I remember you correctly- full of hot air with nowhere for it to go." PS flushes bright red and doesn't dare look back at PB. (Fine terms my fucking brain says. You did that, you numpty. It's your fault that's all he knows to say.) It's deadly quiet for much too long.
"So... how far into the future are you guys from?" Agatha asks, all bright smiles at Baz. He all but fucking slaps her.
"About four years from where you are now." I say.
"So what brings you here?" PB asks us. I can't tell if he knows that Baz and I are together now. Chomsky knows it's probably better if he doesn't. If he knew it might change things... we might not end up together. (We still might not. Or maybe we still would, but it would be better. P'raps more functional.)
"I fucked up. Again. As usual. What else is bloody new?" I mutter. I can tell Baz wants to put his hand on my shoulder, but he doesn't, for sake of the group in front of us. (Even then, I don't know that he would. Even if we were alone. I bloody well hate that.)
"It's not all your fault, Si," Baz says to me. So quiet I think only PB and I can hear him. The others just look at us, wondering what he's said. "You just did what you thought would... help. It's- it's my fault. I should stop pushing you so much." I'm taken aback. Baz doesn't apologize. To anyone. And especially not when he's right! He says it all too loudly and everyone hears, this time. I can tell Penny's puzzled it out, Agatha still seems interested only in my Baz, PB is looking away with tears in his eyes, and PS is oblivious as ever. (Baz says I still am.) He hasn't put together shit.
PS turns to PB and gives him a shove. Hard, but not hard enough to push the always-perfect Baz. If anything, that makes PS angrier. (I really was a mess of unresolved feelings back then. And the worst part is that I still fucking am.) PB gives PS a shove back and they start cursing at each other.
"What the fuck is future you doing, Baz?! What is your plot?" He growls. Crowley. I don't want to relive all these fights. PB just brushes PS off like he's a flea.
"How should I know, Snow? I've not yet been him. If anything I'd say you were doing something. Defending me. What the fuck is that, Snow?" PB is getting angry as well. He doesn't often get angry, anymore. (I think I almost miss it. It may even be better than the... nothing we have, now.)
"Piss off!" They're both in a strop now, in a real fight. Tumbling on the ground, wondering why we're being nice to each other. (Baz told me once that he used to fight with me just so he'd get to touch me. I don't think this one is an exception.) While Penny attempts to separate them, Agatha turns to us.
"I think maybe you two should leave for a moment. Until we calm him - you - down." I nod. When I look over to get Baz, I see that he's already walking away from me.
*Baz's POV*
I can't breathe. I don't know why, or when it started. All I know is that I'm outside, and all around me is fresh oxygen for the taking, but I can't fucking breathe. Everything is spinning. (Is it supposed to be spinning? No one else looks like they're spinning. Perhaps I'm spinning out of control.)
When I watched the fight break out between PS and PB, it was all too much. Because even though they were fighting, PB still got to touch him. PS still acknowledged him. And then I looked over at my Simon. (I don't think he can be considered mine, anymore.) And he was staring at them, not seeming to think anything of it. But he was still staring and my chest was constricting and I couldn't breathe. And he didn't notice until I was walking away.
Simon is the one that panics. He's the one that goes out of his mind. He's the one that can't handle things. Not me.
So when I walk away, feeling like the walls around me are crumbling, I can't help but feel like a failure. Again.
Because I can't communicate with Simon.
Because I don't know how to fix him.
Because I can't keep trying to tiptoe around him. To be perfect.
Because I don't even know how to fix myself.
Because I- I love him and he doesn't seem to give a shit about me.
Something stings my eyes and wets my face, and for a second, I think it might be raining. But it's not. I'm just... crying. Fucking hell. I'm crying. And I'm shaking. I try to take in a breath; to take control of the situation. (Because that's what this all is. A situation. My life is a cosmic joke.) But when I try to breathe, everything feels too tight. Too shallow. It physically hurts to take a breath in.
"Baz!" Simon calls after me. I think he might be running after me. I can't tell. I can't think. What's happening? This doesn't happen to me. "Baz, are you okay?" He's still a good amount of space away.
"Fine, Snow!" I choke out, while I speed up my steps to get to the woods. It takes everything in me not to collapse to the ground. But I can't have Simon see me like this- it might make him spiral.
But I'm walking to the Wavering Wood.
And I'm trying to breathe, and failing miserably.
Everything is still spinning.
You're a failure. You fail your parents, yourself. Even your fucking boyfriend.
Failure. I'm a failure, and- I can't breathe. I'm clawing at my throat, desperately trying to get anything into my lungs.
I think, for a moment, that I should let myself suffocate.
Then I'm falling.
*Simon's POV*
All of my thoughts about myself and how fucked up I am leave my brain as soon as I see Baz hit the ground. It doesn't matter that I hate myself. It doesn't matter that sometimes I think I hate him.
All that matters is Baz and helping him. (Maybe it's some residual feeling of needing to be heroic. But I think it's just because I... care about him.) (Fuck it all, I love him. And I think if I lost him I'd have nowhere to go. No home.)
I don't remember how I got right next to Baz, but it happened faster than I thought I could run. He's on the ground in a ball, sobbing. I don't think he can really breathe. (I think he's having an anxiety attack.) His breathing is labored, and I noticed as he was walking that he was staggering. I don't know what started this, but I know that I need to finish it for him.
Because he always sits with me through mine. So I'm going to strap on a pair and keep my goddamn thoughts in check to help the bloke that I love. Because he never needs me, and right now he really, really needs me.
I crouch down next to him and put a gentle hand on his back. His shirt is nearly bloody soaked all the way through, he's sweating so much. (More than he ever did at football practice.) His head snaps up and his breathing is still much too quick. His eyes don't look like his. They look terrified. His eyes aren't the colour of a blue-grey deep sea or wet pavement. No. They're the colour of those heavy rain clouds, ready to break and give way to a storm. (You know how the longer those hold water the darker they get? Baz's are the darkest.)
"Baz love, what's going on? It's okay... it's okay, I'm here. Tell me what's wrong." He tries to choke out an answer, but he doesn't have enough breath to force the words out. His voice lets out another strangled sob and my heart breaks for him.
"Snow, I- I can't do it anymore," He's taking in sharp breaths between each word. But he's breathing a little better since I've started rubbing circles on his back. I stay quiet and let him continue when he's ready. "It's too much. I just... I love you so bloody much, and I know you don't feel the same way. And that's okay. It's just that I've been trying so fucking hard to always be there for you. To pretend like it doesn't hurt when you can't look at me. To pretend I'm fine when I try to touch you and you act like it burns. But it's not-" He sighs and lets out yet another sob. (I think I've started crying, too.) "It's not fine. I'm not fine. Clearly."
"Baz, I know that I'm impossible. I know that I'm a complete fuck up. But-" But I'm trying not to freak out about the fact that you love me. But I need you. But I fucking love you too. But, but, but.
He just shakes his head and continues to take in sharp shaky breaths. "I know I shouldn't tell you this, Snow, but it's so hard. So hard to be perfect for me. For my mother, for my father, for... for you. For everyone. I know that I have to be- but I... I can't."
We want what we don't have. It's just human nature, I s'pose. We want Winter when it's Summer, Summer when it's Winter. And I want Baz. I want Baz so bloody much that it hurts. And I don't have him. Watching PS and PB- I know I had him once. I had him when I wanted not to, and now that I don't have him - not really, not in the way I'd like - I so desperately want him.
And that is the only reason that I can work myself up to say, "Baz, I don't want perfect. I... I want you." It's the closest I'll get to saying the three words I want to, for now. Even though Baz is still breaking down, and I'm still crying myself... when he looks at me, it feels like something - a very small something - has been fixed.
He cries harder, but doesn't look away from me. "That's all I needed to hear... Simon." He whispers. It feels like it did all those years ago when he first said that.
After a time of soft touches and some snogging (which is sort of new, I s'pose. And not that bad. Actually, I'd even say it was good), we start walking back towards the fighting sixth years we had left. Before we get back into view of them, Baz gives me a soft kiss on the top of my head. And I let him.
"I can breathe, now." He whispers. And even though he might just be talking about his anxiety attack, the words feel like so much more.
I think maybe I've learned that I'm not the only fucked up one. Oh- and also that I love Baz. (I'd say that I'm just learning that now- but I think I've known for a time.)
*Baz's POV*
I think I've learned that it's okay for me to break down. In fact; I think it might've helped us. I'm not saying that I want to make it a habit... just that I don't think Simon was lying when he said he didn't want perfect. That he wants me. So maybe we're not as broken as we think we are.
Just as we get into view of the others, I see that PS and PB are standing awkwardly at each other's sides, sparing a few glances at each other now and then. Poor PB is still pining. PS is still oblivious. Not much has changed, except for the fact that, apparently, Simon feels the same way.
I'm just about to start talking game plan with Bunce when I feel the pull of her magic in my stomach. Only, she's not cast anything. When I look at Simon, he seems as though he can feel it, too. Silently, he laces his fingers through mine. I suppose we'll leave the past group to deal with their emotions themselves. (We kind of figured it out, eventually. At least a bit anyway.)
The last thing I see before Simon and I are transported back to the flat living room is Simon's hopeful expression. The last thing I hope he sees is my peaceful one.
Maybe this trip wasn't such a terrible idea, after all.