Midnight conversations in a bathtub // Simon Snow fanfic

3

Baz

I'd tried to plan for this. I knew the moron was planning something stupid along these lines, and I was determined to change Snow's mind.

The last few weeks I'd been lying awake at night, trying to find the right words - words that would completely bring him to his senses.

But my mind's blank. Once I say no, I can't remember how my rant was supposed to start, and we stare at each other.

"What do you mean, no?" Whatever Snow had been expecting from me, it clearly isn't this.

"Crowley, Snow, I mean you can't break up with me. Not like this." I keep my gaze locked with his. I can see a lot better than he can in this darkness, but I have the irrational feeling that as soon as Snow looks away, I'll lose him.

"You can't just - " he takes a breath, we're both trying not to be loud enough to wake Bunce or Shepard. "You can't stop someone breaking up with you!" His voice is a kind of whisper-shout.

I'm glad that he's mad. Outraged, even. It's better than the Simon Snow from a week ago, who had been almost monosyllabic.

"Well, I am stopping you," I say. "Listen, Snow. You don't want to break up with me, do you?" Suddenly, I'm unsure. I'd assumed this was something about him, not me - but what if... what if I'm the problem?

What if -

"Baz." Snow sounds exasperated. "No, I... "

He sighs, and it practically makes my heartstrings vibrate. (I'm hopeless around him. This complete moron.) "I don't want to break up. You think I want to lose you? I'm never going to find someone like you again, ever. Baz - I mean it."

Well, I try to hide how that makes me feel. I'm glad my voice comes out steady when I say, "so what's the problem, then? And don't go giving me that rot about not being the chosen one. Snow, if you were still the Chosen One - I would be dead. Or you would. Both of us would, as well as the rest of England."

"That's not true," he whisper-shouts. "If I was the Chosen One, I would still be a magician."

"Better alive with wings and a tail than a dead magician," I retort, but with a sinking feeling. This isn't how it's supposed to go. I need to remember the things I'd planned to tell him - he needs to listen.

"You're a dead magician, and you turned out just fine!" He's upset, his knees are knocking into mine and I'm a bit worried about his wings. They're trembling, and if they extend full force I'm probably going to get thrown out of the stupid bathtub.

"Simon." I say. Using his first name used to get his attention, a year ago. Now I'm not sure if he even cares. "You did the bravest, most selfless thing that's ever happened in the history of stuck-up magicians. You sacrificed your magic to save the world. That makes you a hero. That makes you way above my league."

He shifts uncomfortably, but I keep going. "You're not normal - you're never going to be normal, Snow. You have wings. And I don't care that you don't have magic. I don't care if you don't want to do anything, ever again, for the rest of your life. I don't care if you stay on the couch forever. You deserve to do whatever the hell you want."

His eyes are so wide. Pools of gleaming, shining blue. I can't look away, even if I wanted to.

"That's not what I want," he says, and his voice is quieter, now. Unsteady. "I want to live, and I can't. You and Penny both know that. I can't stand you both having to - having to wait for me. I know I'm not the Chosen One - I'm not even the same person, anymore. Baz, you can't be waiting for someone who's never going to come back."

"That's where you're wrong," I say, fierce. "You're coming back, Snow, even if we have to drag you kicking and screaming. It doesn't matter how long it takes. I - these past few months haven't been easy for us - and I know you're used to dealing with so much on your own. But Snow, I can't leave you. You've saved my life so many times, and you can't see what I see."

I fumble for his hands, lacing my fingers with his, and he lets me. "You're still Simon Snow. You're still terrifying in a fight, with a massive hero complex, and you're far too loyal when it comes to your friends. You still eat whatever food you can get, and accept all the punches, too. You're so - you're so alive, Snow. Even now, with no magic and no... chosen one stuff. You're still so vivid, to me. I love your moles and your hair and your stupid face and I love when I can make you laugh." I hold up our hands. "I love this. And I just wish that what we have... I was better at expressing to you that I'm here to stay."

He's still staring, his hands tight in mine, and I have no idea if anything I'm saying to him is getting through to him. I'd remembered half of my speech and improvised the rest - now I play my last, desperate card. "I love you. Simon, I love you, and that won't change."

That's the first time I've ever said it. He makes a small, barely imperceptible sound in the back of his throat, it's so hard not to grab him and pull him to me and kiss him until we both see stars.

I take a deep breath. "I can't keep saying this. So for once, can you just get it into your thick head, Snow. I'm not leaving you."

His eyes are liquid. He's staring down at our interlocked fingers, and he's biting his lip like he does when he's warring with himself. "It's so selfish... me wanting you to stay with me."

"Simon," I lean forwards until he has to look at me. "I want you to be selfish."