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Baz hadn't expected the day to go like this at all. He had expected to go back to his flat by himself, like usual. He had expected to read some more of his novel, he was reading the original Dracula and it was just starting to hook him. He had to expected to go to bed like normal, ignoring the familiar ache of longing he felt in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw him. 'Him' being probably the most attractive guy Baz had ever seen and could ever want to.
Simon Snow went to university with Baz, and Baz hated him. Well, not really, but if Baz was good at anything, it was pretending. Pretending things didn't bother him. Pretending he hated Snow. Pretending that he wasn't hopelessly in love with a classmate that didn't know he existed. Pretending it didn't make him weak in the knees when the sun filtered in from their Anthropology lecture hall's skylight, making his bronze curls look ethereal. Pretending he didn't want to explore the other boy's body, licking and sucking bruises onto every treacherous territory of moles he could find. Pretending that just looking at the mole over his left eye didn’t make mouth water just enough to be worrying. Pretending he wasn't completely taken by the smattering constellations strewn across Snow's nose and cheeks. Pretending, above all, that he didn't care.
In short, the day played out in a way that was unexpected, but not in the least bit unpleasant.
With no plans over his autumn break Baz found himself to be going more than a bit stir crazy just sitting around in his flat all day. He tried to get out, honest, he did. He went for walks, and the crisp air was refreshing, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to stop his hands from shaking, his feet from tapping, his breath from quickening. He tried going to the nicest library in town, but the silence was stifling.
As he was headed home, he caught a glimpse of some children flying kites, and he smiled. He used to love flying kites. Especially when his mother would take him on picnics and let him hold the spool on his own. Perhaps swayed by his own nostalgia, Baz's feet seem to carry him to the park of their own accord. He'd be fine, he wouldn't make a fool of himself, he didn't even have a kite.
"Basilton!" Baz pivoted and immediately regretted it. Snow. Snow was waving him over and looking genuinely happy to see him. He sighed and thought about how he hated the power Snow had over him as he made his way over to the shorter boy. "Baz, where's your kite?"
Baz swallowed, "I don't have one."
"I have an extra! I brought two because I couldn't pick between them, so you can use my other one," he crowed, looking proud. Snow led them to where his things were resting. His bag, he must have just finished studying; a thin navy blue coat, much too flimsy to be protecting anyone from the especially harsh weather they'd been experiencing; his two kites, one was plain red with floral patterns, much like a particularly gaudy Hawaiian shirt, and the other seemed to be taupe and decorated with sparkles; and a bag of assorted jelly beans. Baz heaved a sigh. There was no way he could get out of this unscathed. With a shining grin still on his face, Snow handed him the red kite.
"Have you ever flown a kite before?"
Baz scoffed," I am an expert. My mother used to take me to the park all the time, before-" His voice petered off and he could feel the tips of his ears pinking.
Before the familiar guilt and shame could drown him though, Simon asked, "Would you teach me?" His bronze curled flopped down on his forehead as she stared at his torn canvas shoes, the aglets missing and the ends of the shoelaces fraying. Baz couldn't say refuse, no matter how badly he wanted to get out of the situation, if only to spare his dignity.
"Yes, Snow. I'll teach you." Baz knew that he had made the right choice when Snow's whole face lit up. Baz found them a good and windy spot, and pretended not to notice when he saw Snow shivering. He didn't want to have to pretend he didn't care today, it hurt too much. Baz suggested he retrieve his jacket, and Snow blushed. Baz was convinced Snow hated him. Why else would he blush aside from torturing Baz? Simon returned then, wearing his coat and shivering less, minimally.
Baz instructed Snow to walk about 50 feet away, with the taupe kite in hand. He did as he was told, holding the delta uncertainly. Baz called to Snow to release the kite and before Simon knew it, the kite was up and flying. He slowly walked back to where Baz was standing, staring up at the sky with his mouth hanging open in childlike wonder. Baz gulped and looked away. He handed the spool to Snow, before expertly launching the borrowed kite.
They spent nearly an hour just flying their kites, with Baz sneaking secret glances at Snow. At the constellations formed by the decadent moles on his neck and face. At the way the fallen leaves swirled and twirled their around Snow's ankles as if performing an ancient and long since forgotten dance. At the way the afternoon sun made his hair spun gold. At the way Snow's tongue was stuck out just a bit, and his right eye was scrunched up in concentration. He ignored longing he had for that tongue to be between his own teeth, to just be close to the boy he was hopelessly in love with.
He looked away and shook his head as if to rid himself of his own traitorous thoughts, just as he heard Snow shout. He looked over just in time to see his kite careening towards Baz's own, narrowly missing the material. Snow was running with the kite, trying to control it, but by the time he had regained control, both of the kites were hopelessly tangled.
Normally, Baz would've just scoffed and poked fun at the mess Snow had made, but today he just couldn't. He glanced at him and instantly felt bad for even thinking about doing that. Snow looked wrecked. He looked distraught and dejected, and as if he was on the verge of tears.
"Snow? Snow, it's okay," Baz insisted, approaching him.
It was all Baz could do to keep himself from pulling the shorter boy into his arms and consoling him; he looked up at Baz with such sad eyes, "But I ruined it. We were having a good time, or at least an okay time, and I ruined it. And I'm so sorry because I just want you to be happy because you look so angry all the time or maybe that's just when you see me because I'm pretty sure you loathe me and- and I'm babbling." Baz nodded and Snow scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly. Snow ran his hands through his hair, mussing it, and still looking as if someone had killed his puppy.
Without a single thought, besides 'fuck it,' Baz grabbed ahold of Simon's wrist with a quick, "Come on." He left no room for question, and left the tangled kites behind for some lucky child and exasperated parent.
Baz knew exactly where he was going, so he allowed himself a few moments to just take in the appearance of the boy he was dragging along behind him. It made him a bit sad, actually. His jeans were too short at his ankles, along with being torn and frayed in various spots; his shirt had a tear in it near the hem and it looked nearly worn to threads; his shoes seemed to be about an inch away from death, the canvas top torn and separating from the rubber sole; there were a few clearly visible holes in his coat, and the zipper didn't work correctly; and he didn't seem to be wearing socks at all. Of course, none of this detracted from his beauty at all, but Baz worried. He was a worrier. Baz knew that Snow's parents had passed away; his father's death being only a few years ago. He knew that Snow was on numerous financial aid programs and even a few scholarships. He knew that Snow lived in the dormitories on campus year round because he couldn't afford a place of his own. He knew that Snow worked three jobs just to get by, to keep himself clothed and fed, and to continue to pay what was left of his tuition expenses.
He also knew that Snow volunteered at a petting zoo, in the goat pen with a woman named Ebb. He knew that Snow needed to keep his grades up to stay on the scholarships, and was up to all hours of the night studying. How did he know all this? Well, people talk, and Baz sits near Snow's best friend, Penelope in their shared Psych class. Penelope sits and talks to Agatha, another friend of Snow's, mostly about Snow. Baz is quiet, and, well, he doesn't mean to listen in. But Penelope stage whispers, so it's really not his fault.
He was only able to look away when Snow grumbles something and moves so that they're properly holding hands. Baz could've sworn something inside him exploded. He approached the small café and felt a frown mark his face as he had to pull his hand away from Snow's to open the door.
"You're..taking me out..for coffee?" Snow sounded incredulous.
"You seemed sad. We're getting coffee. That's all. And I'm buying. Because it looks like your wardrobe has seen better days, and it's probably not good for you to eat Ramen for every meal. So you're getting a scone, too. Now go find us a table." Snow looked dumbfounded, but his eyes were bright, and he did what he was told. He plopped down at a small table in the corner, by the vents, trying to warm up a bit, or at least stop shaking so violently it looked as though he were seizing. Baz returned within minutes holding two coffees and a sour cherry scone(Simon's favorite), just in time to catch him blowing into his hands for some sort of semblance of warmth.
"Crowley, Snow," Baz muttered.
"How did-how did you know-"
"Forget it. Just eat. Don't act like you've had anything but Ramen and jelly beans all week," he narrowed his eyes. Snow blushed and looked down at his lap, before gratefully tucking into the scone. Surprisingly enough, they didn't just sit there awkwardly, and Baz tried his level best not to scowl. They struck up a conversation about their shared classes, both speaking of their degrees and possible future careers although, "I don’t like to think about that," said Baz, on the topic of his future, and Snow asking Baz, "have you met Penny?" Upon Baz's reluctant agreement, Snow launched into story after story of her. He told Baz of the time he got lost in Ikea, and Penny had to call his name over the intercom. He told Baz the story of how they became friends. He even told Baz of the time Penny came to him sobbing in pure happiness when she received the news that her long distance boyfriend, Micah, was finally moving from America to Watford, and of the time they had had their worst fight, that had ended with both of them in tears, their voices hoarse. Baz couldn't even say he was annoyed. And if he occasionally looked troubled, it was only because he was trying his hardest not to stare dreamily at Simon.
As the sun started setting, and their drinks had been cold for over an hour, Snow gasped.
"Come on, Baz, oh, come on! I have to take you somewhere," he urged. Baz complied, nearly freezing up when Snow grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the shop. He tried to ask where they were going numerous times, but Snow wouldn't budge, insisting that it was a secret, "you're lucky I'm not making you shut your eyes."
They ended up back at the park, on the big hill with the carefully tended flower garden. It was communal, and sometimes it even had fresh vegetables growing in it. He let Snow tug him down by his hand, and they sat together on the hill, eyes to the sky.
"I love watching the sunset," Snow whispered, as if the painted sky would shatter into shards of pink, blue, purple, and orange hues. Baz pretending he didn't notice that he and Simon were still holding hands, but when Snow squeezed his hand, he squeezed right back. "I come out here every night. It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Like you, Baz nearly said. They sat there in amicable silence as the sun began to descend behind the horizon, Baz on the left and Snow on the right. Before long, Snow leaned his head onto Baz's shoulder. Shaking off the shock, Baz let it happen. Simon let go of Baz's right hand and exchanged it for his left, and Baz used his free hand to hesitantly wrap around Snow. It felt right, he couldn't quite explain it. As the last of the sun receded behind the skyline, Snow lifted his head from Baz's shoulder and looked to his left just in time to catch Baz staring at him. Baz blushed, But Simon just laughed briefly before putting his hand on Baz's cheek. He leaned up and ghosted his lips across Baz's. Baz dropped the arm he had wrapped around Simon in surprise.
If we're doing this, we're doing this right, Baz thought quickly before cupping Snow's cheek and kissing him properly. It was messy and too short, all bumping noses and chapped lips, and it was perfect. He could feel Snow smiling against his own mouth. Sooner that either of them would have liked, they both pulled away. Baz sat there as if in a daze, and was quickly pulled up by the arm.
"Walk me home?" Simon asked sweetly. Baz smiles, and nods as Snow links their hands. Campus isn't far, and Baz doesn't have a problem with the dark. He was going to offer anyways, he didn't want someone like Snow wandering home by himself in the dark; it made Baz uneasy.
They approached Mummers Hall, speaking softly about when they would get together again.
"So, I'll see you Friday, then?" Baz asked nervously.
"It's a date," Snow said, leaning up to kiss Baz once more.
Baz smiled to himself, "See you then, Snow."
"Baz, wait. You can call me Simon, you know," he added before disappearing inside the building. Baz nodded to himself. He'd remember that. He walked to his flat, the faint smile on his face lasting well into the night.