My Better Half (Sequel to My Cup of Tea)

Chapter Three

When Agatha asked him to come along to this stupid party, Baz almost had a fit right then and there. He was so bloody tired of pretending to be her boyfriend––of kissing her and holding her hand. He was so tired of having to keep up with these appearances. He was sure that, one of these days, it would all just drive him absolutely mental and he wouldn't be able to control whatever bile came out of his mouth. 

Just like it had a year ago with Simon.

He still thought about that night. Often. It was probably pointless for him to keep running things over in his head (obsessing over it) but he couldn't help it. Even a year later, he was still helplessly in love with Simon Snow. It didn't help that Agatha liked to talk about him all the time––that she asked incessant questions wondering why they weren't friends anymore. Sometimes, when she saw something that reminded her of Simon, she pointed it out. Baz would have to grit his teeth and pretend not to be interested in it. Pretend like the mere mention of his name wasn't breaking his heart over and over again until he was positive that he didn't even have a heart anymore. Not a functioning one, anyway. 

The only good (or maybe bad) thing to come from all of this thinking was that he saw how wrong he had been. Now that he was "with" Agatha, he knew that Simon's choice was sound. There was no way that he would have been able to keep up appearances with Agatha while still trying to maintain a relationship with Simon. It just wasn't logical. 

That didn't mean that Baz was still fuming about it. Simon had made the good choice––because that was just who Simon was. Good. But it hadn't been the right choice. Baz hated him for making the choice, even if it was probably for the best in the long run. He still resented Simon for giving him up. For moving on. Whenever he thought about what Simon Snow might be up to, he pictured him lazing around his flat with a beautiful girl under his arm, cuddling on the sofa. She probably stopped by the cafe almost everyday, too, when she could. He probably wrote cute little notes for her on the cup instead of her name. Maybe he loved her. Maybe he told her so. 

So when Agatha insisted that he come to this party, he wanted to break down right then and there in the dress aisle of Harrods. He wanted to throw a full-on tantrum because his life was just so fucking unfair and miserable that he felt like he was suffocating. Or maybe like he was being swallowed whole. He went, anyway. He knew that it was the good thing to do. If he had known what would happen, maybe he wouldn't have.

Or, more likely, he would have showed up before he did. Would have gone in a sprint to get there.

As soon as they arrived, Agatha went off to talk to some friends from school. Baz decided that there was no way he could get through this without a stiff drink, so he made his way to the kitchen to pour himself one. When he got there, he saw Simon and Penny standing by the counter. They were just talking, nothing special, but he felt his heart clench in his chest. He stared at them for a minute from the doorway, just watching as Simon nervously poured them drinks. 

Simon looked like he had been kidnapped. Like he was a fucking prisoner of war. He had big bags under his eyes like he hadn't sleep in months. He was so thin that Baz could make out the outline of his ribs, even under his polo shirt. It broke his heart to see him like that, and broke his heart even more when he realized that this must've been because Simon's new girlfriend, whoever she was, had broken up with him recently. Baz had looked a lot like Simon did towards the beginning of the year. It had taken him two months to leave the flat, another month to start showing his face at work again. He told his father that he was ill. He didn't seem to care enough to look into it.

Penny raised her cup. "To getting the fuck over Baz: he's a wanker that doesn't deserve your energy," she exclaimed. 

Simon smiled and knocked her cup with his own. "Cheers." 

So it's me, he thought to himself from the doorway. It's still me that has him looking like that. 

He didn't know if he should be happy or terribly, terribly guilty.

"I'm glad I'm good for something," he said, moving over towards them. 

Simon turned and stared at him for a moment. Those familiar blue eyes searched his own for a moment before Simon yelped, sending his drink tumbling to the floor. He started hyperventilating, turning panicked eyes towards Penny like she knew what to do. Baz watched in horror as he sunk to the floor, pressing his knees up against himself. Penny shot Baz a glare and joined Simon on the floor, running her hands through his hair.

"Remember to breathe, Simon. In and out. In and out."

Baz watched this unfold and realized that this had probably happened before. It seemed like Penny knew exactly what to do and say to talk Simon out of his fit, like she had done this so many times that the cure was etched in her brain. 

Baz didn't know if he should turn and leave or stay and try to help. It was his fault, after all. 

Someone tugged on his arm then gasped at the sight on the floor.

"Simon!" Agatha said, abandoning Baz's arm and rushing to Simon's side. Simon shook his head when she approached him. He turned to Penny again, his head shaking so rapidly that Baz thought it might fall off. 

"You need to get out of here," Penny seethed through clenched teeth. 

"What's wrong with him? I want to help! Simon? Simon, are you okay?"

"You're only making it worse," Penny explained. 

Agatha backed away slowly like she was backing away from a sleeping lion. She grabbed Baz's arm again, pressing herself into him like his touch was comforting. 

"Leave the room," Penny said. "Take Basilton with you."

Agatha nodded and reached for Baz's hand, pulling him with her through the archway.