If You Must

All That We Are Is Music

A quick author's note:

There is a little sexual innuendo later on in this chapter, but it's nothing worse than anything in Rainbow Rowell's books (which is to say not very bad at all).

That is all, you may Carry On with your regularly scheduled fanficiton reading.

-Lefty

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Baz

I play violin until my fingertips are raw.

I play violin until my bow arm screams, feeling like it's about to fall off at the shoulder.

I play violin until I'm choking on rosin dust.

I play violin until there's nothing in my head but endless sonatas and concertos and arias and etudes and airs and music, music, music.

I play violin until I cease to exist.

---

Simon's in the shower when I get home.

I set my case down behind the couch, kicking off my shoes as I do so (I left in such a hurry I didn't bother with a coat)(the day's warm enough that I don't need one anyway). I think about eating (I didn't have any breakfast), but then decide against it. My stomach is still in knots from last night. Eating's overrated, anyway.

"Simon?" I call out, wandering into the bedroom and knocking on the door into the bathroom.

"Hey, Baz," he replies, voice echoing and disjointed over the noise of the shower. I push the door open, then lean one shoulder (the one that doesn't ache from endless music-playing) on the doorframe, crossing my arms.

"You alright?" Simon asks, poking his (soggy) head out of the shower (which is completely pointless, because I can see him just fine through the glass)(my adorable fucking idiot). Those blue eyes shine out from under his mop of wet hair like twin diamonds. I nod once, trying to act nonchalant.

"Yeah. Violin helped."

"It always does. Do you want to talk about it? Your nightmare?" There's worry laced in the breezy tone of his voice. The thought of my nightmare has me repressing a shudder. Biting my lip, I avoid his eyes.

"Maybe... later. After breakfast." Simon nods, sticking his head back under the water. I watch him, my eyes travelling along all of his smooth curves and sharp edges and freckled skin.  He catches me staring and grins lazily at me over his shoulder.

"Are you going to stand there the whole time?" He teases. I smirk at him (the normalcy of the action makes me feel a bit better).

"Yes," I reply simply, not moving an inch.

"Baz, I'm in the shower." He's practically giggling, and it's just so fucking adorable I can hardly stand it.

"Your point being?" I drawl, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm naked." I have to repress a snort.

"Simon Snow, I've literally held you naked in my arms. So I repeat: what is your point?" Simon blushes, looking a little flustered.

"Well, I... would you rather join me?" Bright blue eyes meet my gaze, sending a shock through me.

I lean my head lazily against the doorframe.

"Mmm... no, I took a shower before I left." Simon puts a soapy hand on his hip.

"So you're just gonna stand there?"