My Chosen One

Chapter 2: Home

He just told me that he likes me. He just asked me if I wanted to date him. Merlin, I'm already horrible with feelings that don't have to do with romance, so how the fuck does he expect me to find words for this? And yet, in the back of my head, there's a little voice that's screaming at me to say yes, and as I think, my fingers interlaced and my fists in my lap, it gets louder and louder, until I can't ignore it any longer. Fighting hard to keep control of my mouth until the right time, I pull my chin up, look him in the eye, and tell him, "Yes. Yes, Baz, I would actually really like that," and once the words have gotten themselves out of my system, there's quiet in my mind again. And in the room. We both blush, me turning redder than I ever thought was possible, him just turning a couple shades more pink, and he starts smiling like he owns the world.

"Finally!" He whispers to himself, flopping down on his bed.

"What's 'finally'?" I ask him like the unobservant moron I am.

He sits up and stares at me. "How have you not noticed? I swear, I have given you so many signs. How the bloody hell have you not picked up on them?"

I go into defensive mode, and protest, "I don't even know what you're talking about! How would I know if I've seen the signs if I don't know what the signs are for?"

Now it's his turn to sigh in exasperation. "Snow, I've liked you since our second year."

"You- you've- what?" I'm tripping over my words now, and I'm so flustered that I just stop talking all together. Better not to talk than to stutter. At least, that's my opinion.

"I. Have. Liked. You. Since. Second. Year," he says, clearly enunciating each word so that I don't have an excuse to say that I didn't hear him.

I'm stunned by this. He's had a crush on me for this long? And he didn't tell me? Oh. That's what he meant, when he got mad at me for not picking up the clues. He did tell me. I just wasn't listening. Fuck it, I've been so blunt these past five years, it pains me to realise it. "I'm sorry for not getting the message sooner," I say gently, going over to his bed and sitting down. Merlin, even though they're the exact same mattress type, his bed feels more expensive than mine. I put my hand in his lap. He gently covers it with his own, and I keep going. "I've actually thought that way about you too, in the past. When the Crucible was casting us together and you started walking my way, I thought, My gods, he looks so good." Baz hitches up his eyebrow and smirks at me, and, laughing, I add, "Now, I don't know what you were thinking at that moment..." We both double over in laughter, and I realise just how far we've come from our first year, when we were constantly at each other's throats. Now we're (almost) not even bickering. I take his left hand, the one that's draped over mine, and I squeeze it a bit. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to let him know that, yes, I am here, and yes, he is too, and yes, we're dating, in case he doesn't remember this new development. He squeezes back, and I giggle, because I've always liked the feeling of squeezing people. Even if they were just holding hands with me for grace at dinner, I've always squeezed. I do it because I like the feeling of knowing that I can control when someone leaves me. If I hold on tight enough, maybe they won't go. Maybe they'll stay with me forever. And knowing that someone cares about you enough to put up with you forever is a really nice thing to know.

I scoot closer to him on the bed, until our shoulders are touching, and I lay my head down sideways on his shoulder and close my eyes. He puts his arm around me, and, for the first time in (quite possibly) forever, I feel entirely secure. Like nobody's going to see my faults, no one's going to judge me for what I've done, and no one will ever be able to take me away from here.

Sitting here with Baz feels like- well, it feels like I'm finally home.