Chosen~ Snowbaz

What it Takes to Fall in Love

Snow slams the door closed behind him and flops down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow. It's hard, but I focus my gaze stubbornly ahead, staring at my textbook instead of my roommate.

"Baz?" He asks, his voice muffled. I don't answer.

"Baz, have you ever been in love?"

Now he really has my attention. "Why do you care?"

"So that's a yes?

In my peripheral vision, he sits up, turning to look at me.

"Baz, how do you know when you're in love? What's it like?"

Finally, I give him what he wants, swinging my legs over the edge of my bed. I send my best glare his way. "What do you want to know?"

"Because I think I might be, too."

"Well, yeah, you've been in love with Wellbelove for years now."

He has the audacity to look surprised. "Agatha? No, I'm over her."

"You don't say." I'm doing my level best to sound bored, but in reality, I'm quite curious. Who is this mystery person who has caught the eye of the Chosen One himself?

"Just answer the question. What's it like being in love?"

I sigh. "It's a crushing weight on your chest. It's all consuming, and it's hard to breathe whenever you see them. Most of the time, it physically hurts to be near them, and it hurts more to be away from them. If you really have it bad, you hate them for what they do to you, how much they put you through.

"At first, you want to be with them, want to be close to them, and you're jealous of anyone else who is. But if you ask me, you aren't truly in love until you just want them to be happy, even if 'happy' for them is a world in which you're dead.

"On the other hand, though, you jump at the chance to touch them, to talk to them, even if the only way to do that is to hurt them. And later, you cry yourself to sleep because of the pain you caused them. The pain you're causing them. It's either the best or the worst thing that's ever happened to you—you can't decide. Sometimes it's both.

"That's love, Snow. To answer your question."

I lie back down awkwardly, flipping onto my side to face away from him, though I can feel his eyes fixed on my back.

"So you're in love with someone, then?"

"Figured that out all on your own, did you?"

Silence. Then: "With who?"

"With whom, Snow." I correct automatically. "And it's none of your business."

"At least tell me why you love them. What they're like."

My voice is quiet, and I close my eyes to try and pretend it's not him I'm talking to. "He's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. He's just so..." I wave on hand around vaguely, searching for the right word. "Perfect. Sort of. I'm not claiming he's a godsend or anything—I mean, some people think that, and he usually acts like he is, but he's always happy, and gentle, even when he's punching somebody's lights out. That said, he only hurts people in self-defense, or someone else's defense. And he's alive. God, he's so alive."

I turn my head to look at him, straining my neck, and see that he's staring at me in rapt attention. "And he hates me. Yeah."

I'm pretending to be asleep, hiding the blush on my face, when he eventually says something. "So you're like me, then."

At first, I think he said 'so you like me,' and I nearly have a heart attack. "What!?"

"I said, 'so, you're like me, then,'" he repeats.