Breathless...

𝗟𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗱

Sorry for taking forever everyone who's nice enough to read, vote, and comment !

I'm exhausted-

Also this is unedited, please correct any mistakes you find <3

Penelope's POV

Simon and I head down to the Lawn in silence. He's looking at his feet, eyebrows in a knot. Most likely worrying over Baz. He did seem rather. . Aggravated. Quite unusual from his typically cool, indifferent attitude.

"Si, what's got you so on edge?" I ask gently, having to tap his shoulder to catch his attention since he's so lost. Maybe something happened between the two. . . I mean they used to fight all the time— maybe they still do. My stomach immediately curls at the thought of Simon in a fight with Baz. Baz's aggression even during the time they were enemies was a bitter pill for Simon to digest. . There's no way he'd handle it better now.

"Oh- um. . Uh- it's just, ya know, Baz." He blusters, blearily. He looks tired and panicky all of a sudden. Perhaps they did get in a row. I didn't want to believe it, but why else would Simon be so. . troubled regarding his boyfriend.

"Yeah, why exactly are both of you on edge?" I ask picking my words carefully, trying to extort a straight answer out of him. Why won't he just tell me something happened? I really hope this isn't like the last time they fought. It took weeks for them to resolve a simple accident and minor miscommunication. (Granted, Agatha kissed Simon and it looked like he initiated it from Baz's perspective. It was messy but still, they could've talked it out.) They both drowned in their own guilt and self-loathing.

"I don't- I don't know," he says wiping his eye strangely and sniffling.

"Simon—why are you crying? What did Baz do?" I ask, beginning to worry since Simon doesn't cry too often. . . I hate doubting Baz, since he is my friend and I know that he loves Simon more than anyone (except me,) possibly can. And only Baz could make him cry, and mostly just during first year. I haven't seen Simon cry since— well. . . I can't even remember.

"I'm not—I swear to Merlin! I just- I. . ." He grunts, sighing at the same time. "Just the fuc- I mean. . ." He stops mid-sentence in confusion and shock, "Wait— why would you say Baz?" his eyes narrow at me defensively.

"I just don't know anyone else who affects you like this, and you just mentioned that it is related to him." I try reasoning, but Simon won't hear it. I've offended him. . .

"Why the fuck would I be mad at him, he hasn't even done anything—" Simon starts, frustration and anger seeping into his voice. "And why would you suggest that it's his fault? He's nothing but nice to you!"

I gulp. "It's not about me; he isn't always nice to you though." I point out. And I know I've already hit a nerve while he was previously upset, but I just keep striking more. My heart pangs at my unusually petty actions. I don't like being proven wrong, or shown down. And even if Simon might need support right now and not this. . Well, sometimes we realize we're hurting other people and we gather all our strength and force out an apology—other times our egos coil around us and we turn defensive instead. This is one of those times. When I know I'm not being the best friend Simon needs me to be, but I can't stop myself just because I feel attacked, I'm Penelope. . I'm never wrong. Not that I would ever admit it even if I was.

"Penny, seriously?" Simon demands, his livid blue eyes burning into mine. "If you're going to insult Bazzy, I'm leaving." He says with enough conviction and bitterness that I'm certain he will. For a second I think, what's got him so touchy? Then I realize that I pushed him while he was nearly crying. I practically summoned his reaction—

"Si, I- I'm sorry," I choke out. "I just— I don't get it. You said you're mad about Baz when I asked what was wrong. . So I'm assuming you two fought; and I know that he isn't too nice around you, especially when you guys fight— I mean you were enemies after all, and this is Baz we're talking about. He's just like that."

Simon sighs exasperatedly after flashing his rage in his glare. "What the fuck are you talking about, Penny? I never said I was mad at him, I was acting off because he's having a. . Difficult day," he says brushing a hand through his tight curls, looking towards Mummers. "And I just don't know how to help like this, and fuck I should probably be with him right now."

Then he turns to face me again, "Also, I don't know what the fuck you think our relationship works like, but he doesn't fight me. He backs down and listens even when he knows I'm wrong. . He won't push me right then. He waits for me to calm down, then tries to talk shit out. . . If anything, I'm the one picking useless fights and being a dick—so don't ever say that about him." And he's being deathly serious. I'm surprised Baz gives him all the gentleness he's saying he does, but I guess I have to take him for his word. I mean. . Baz is nice to me, but we didn't have the same antagonistic history. I don't want him treating Simon the way Agatha did.

I nod at Simon, still looking skeptical, since he glares at me harder. Then someone swallows behind me. Close enough for me to hear—

I turn around immediately and the shock and regret is painted on my face.

Baz side-steps me and walks into Simon's waiting arms. Simon's worry and concern is written all over him, his brows pinched and lips tight. He holds Baz's waist as Baz steps into his embrace, burying his head in the crook of Simon's neck. He looks severely disoriented, his arms limp at his side. Simon whispers something in his ear which makes him stand straighter. . I think the bending was hurting his neck. He still has to bend however, as he presses his forehead against Simon's. Simon gently runs his fingers through Baz's silky black waves.

"Let's sit down, so that we can get this sorted," Simon says, his previous anger lingering in his husky voice.

We're in a more private, secluded area in the Lawn, so Baz doesn't hesitate to lay his head in Simon's lap. Simon continues playing with his hair and whispering softly to him. I see it immediately. Baz is soft around him. He's submissive and calm and accepting, whereas Simon is living fire. (It's not that Baz doesn't still find great amusement from poking fun at Simon—it's that he's comfortable being himself, as well.) Baz is generally subtler about his emotional turmoil, he hides it. . . But his vulnerability gleams in his silver eyes as Simon presses his lips to his left eyebrow.

"Baz, I'm-" I start, but I get cut off.

"Don't bother, Bunce. I don't give a fuck if you think I'm a git." Baz hisses, his silver eyes turning cold from vulnerable. I really ruined things with him like this.

"But, I don't think that. I just misheard and it was just confusing." I explain, but he simply scoffs. Great. Just great.

'Can you just get over it, Baz?! I'm worried about Simon, okay?' Is what I want to say next. But I bite my tongue.

"Well, will you two explain this?" I ask, handing them the scroll. Baz rolls his eyes at me.

Simon snatches the scroll and tears the ribbon, flinging it open. His eyes distractedly skim over the paper and he mouths the words he reads.

"Oh. ." He says, a grimace tugging on his lips. "Bazzy Boo? Look at this."

Baz takes one quick glance and an infernal rage swirls in his silver eyes. It's a scowl weaved from pure, burning hate.

"What is it?"