Simon's hands are rough and warm. And he smells like smoke— like smoke and something alive and beautiful.
He holds my hand like it's something precious. Even when his pink mouth stops moving, and his words have dissipated into the darkness around us, he keeps holding on. Like he's afraid he'll disappear if he lets go.
"Simon— Snow, let's get you to bed," I whisper. Snow nods, letting me pull him to his feet.
"Baz?" His voice is so small, it sounds like the echo of an echo. I look back at him, and even though it's dark and he probably can't see me, he's looking right into my eyes.
Snow takes a tentative step forward...
...And trips on his own feet. The thick woolen socks on his feet slip on the hardwood, sending his legs flying. Without thinking, I grasp his other hand, just barely keeping him upright.
He stares at me. I stare at him.
And then we both burst out laughing, the noise bouncing off of the empty walls and ceiling, magnified to a hundred.
"You're mumbling," I cast, stopping the sound before it reaches the stairwell and wakes Rhys and Gareth in the room beneath ours. Snow giggles— actually giggles.
"Did you just cast a Dad spell?" Stifling a grin, I shove him lightly.
"No. Watch yourself, Snow." He laughs again before tugging on my hand.
"You wanker. Come on, sock-skate with me."
Something light breaks free from my ribcage at the touch. Because Aleister Crowley, Simon Snow is tugging at my hand. And he wants me to sock-skate. If this is a dream, or a daydream spell, I am going to be royally chapped.
The smile I've been pushing away breaks through.
"Fine."
YOU ARE READING
Something New
FanfikceIt's sixth year, and Simon can't sleep. The Mage has been ignoring him, he failed an assignment, and he can't, for the life of them, find the last of the Six White Hares. Surprisingly, it is Baz-- his insufferable roommate (who is probably a vampire...
