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Snow. Simon bloody Snow. I couldn't explain how much I hated—and loved—him throughout our times during Watford. And of course we'd been Cast together during our first year. I remember seeing him and thinking, "Why me?"
He'd ask the Mage over and over and over again to switch roommates with me. "Sir, all due respect but he's tried to kill me multiple times! Crowley, he tried feeding me to a chimera!" he said, smoke starting to tremble from his fingertips.
The Mage nodded. "It's punishment enough that you did not succeed." The smallest of smiles was on his face. I smirked.
Snow looked offended. "What?! Aren't you supposed to be on my side of the argument?!"
We'd have that same argument again and again until we got older. When we had moved on from that, when Snow had given up on trying to trade roommates with someone else, we argued about other things. Snow practicing his stupid forms and shit on my side of the room. My night time visits to the Catacombs beneath the White Chapel. Snow leaving the bathroom a mess in the morning. (It's never going to stop bothering me.) (Snow is a mess. Both as a roommate and a magician.)
But none of that mattered now.
We were in our eighth year at Watford. Our last year as roommates. It felt...strange. This was the end of the end for our stupid little roommate rivalry.
The snow beneath my black shoes crunched satisfyingly. I was thirsty, too thirsty to go back to the dorm and attempt to wait it out. I needed something, anything, to replenish myself enough to last the week. Maybe I'd find a lost deer or a bunch of squirrels.
But I didn't. Instead, I found something—or rather, someone—in the middle of a clearing, the one I always visited when the Catacombs weren't an option. I found Snow there, Simon fucking Snow. Why must he be everywhere? Why can't I get fifteen bloody minutes without him?
Why didn't I want fifteen minutes without him? (Maybe it's because I'm crazy.) (...I'm definitely crazy.)
"Snow." One step.
"Baz?" He was shivering slightly in the moonlight. Cold.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, leaning against a nearby tree.
He met my gaze with a flattened stare; I could easily tell he was trying to keep his guard up around me. "Could ask you the same."
"I asked first."
"And if I don't want to answer?"
I sighed. "Then you don't need to."
Another silent moment passed by. Another step was taken towards the log that Snow was sitting on.
"Don't tell Penelope about this," he paused, "or Agatha. They'll just worry. They worry enough."
"Then this stays between us." I muttered, my hands in my pockets. I was only a couple steps from Snow.
Still so thirsty and I contained myself. I felt my fangs start to pop—I felt so empty and he looked so full… how much of an idiot would I be to not take this chance?
Apparently I was a very big idiot, because I didn't take the chance to jump and drain him. I didn't want to drain him. But I needed to drink something. Now.
“You still haven’t answered my question.” Snow turned to face me, and I could see how soaked his pyjama pants and hoodie were. “Why are you here, Baz?”
He stood and took a step closer to me. “I don’t owe you an answer,” I muttered, trying to not let him see my teeth; it was dark where I was standing, so I was sure he couldn’t see me. “You never answered my question in the first place.”
“Fair." He paused again. "Baz, do you know what you are?” I raised a brow at him. What are you getting at, Simon Snow?
He took another step towards me. One more . I took one back. “Dunno. Tell me, Snow. What am I ?”
Another step forward. “A vampire.” One more back. “I’ve known since fifth year.”
I felt my back hit the trunk of a tree. Snow only had more steps to take forward. “No bloody shit , Sherlock,” I said, “You stalked me for that whole year, Snow.”
A step forward. I was out of space to walk back on. "I know."
"You followed me to the Catacombs after hours every night, Snow." My back was pressed firmly against the tree, nowhere to run to, and Snow still stepped forward. Two steps and we'd be inches away from each other.
He took a step. “I know ,” he grumbled in irritation. The real question was whether it was because of me or because of something other than me... “But here’s another question:
“Baz–do you know what you are to me ?”
I couldn’t tell whether at that moment I looked dead-er than usual, or whether I was flushed. I first saw his breath in the freezing air, then his hand slammed into the wood next to my head. His face was, obviously, inches near mine. The situation–being pinned against a damn tree by him–caught me off guard, and now I could definitely feel my blood rushing to my face. "Wh..What?" My mind had gone blank—no thoughts, head was empty.
"You heard me," Snow muttered beneath his breath. “Do you know what you are to me, Baz?”
I shook my head; I should’ve known the answer. But of course, I needed to play it cool. “What am I to you, Snow? Just a roommate? A rival? Someone that people could view as a villain and not as a being?” Maybe I did know the answer and just blanked at the moment. Maybe I was in denial.
Maybe I was going to bite him tonight.
Or maybe I was going to kiss him.
He leaned in close again, enough to make my heart beat faster and faster. “You know what I mean, Pitch.” Snow hasn’t called me that in a long time. “You already know.”
I just wanted to draw him out, just wanted to hear him admit it. “What could I possibly know what I am to you, Snow?” I felt his warm breath on my lips, that’s how close we were.
“Mine,” He muttered. “You’re mine, Baz..” Snow said softly before pressing his forehead gently on mine. I felt my body relax, before I lifted a hand up to the back of his neck and pressed my lips to his; he felt soft, and I felt like I had ascended to the heavens.
Well , I thought to myself as we kissed, I’ve always been yours, Simon Snow . It took him this long to finally realise it, and I was happy. Beyond happy–elated, even. I never thought I’d be able to really kiss him like this.
He pulled away first, looking shy and even in the dark I could see him slowly turning red as he covered his face with the neck of his jacket. Snow stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away from me, gaze glued to the ground.
“Simon?” I said his name–his first name. His head snapped up to look at me, eyes wide. “Alright?” was the one word that came out of my mouth and he smiled and nodded.
“Alright. You?” I nodded, looking around. “We should get back to the dorms,” I said with a light chuckle. He seemed to agree, shivering slightly. Putting my large jacket over him (I had a hoodie on as well underneath, I was fine.) we walked back to the Great Lawn to Mummers House.
We got back to our shared dorm – this was the last year we’d share a room, share anything like this, like how we do already. It felt strange looking around again, as if I was a first year again with a cold Simon Snow next to me. But we weren’t enemies anymore. I didn’t know what we were anymore. I just knew our rivalry was finally over – rivalry to romance? I could smell the headline from here…It made me giggle. I let Snow get changed first (he was soaked, and I low-key felt bad since I was still mostly dry.) before changing into my pyjamas. It was around midnight and our lights were off, either of us in our respective beds.
“Baz?” I heard him quietly call my name.
He turned in his bed to face me instead of the window. “Yes, Snow?”
“Can you sleep over here? I’m cold,” He mumbled, sniffling. He sounded congested.
I raised a brow, but complied. I got out of bed, folding back the one corner of my blankets I’d actually flipped down. “Scoot over, Chosen One.” I heard him giggle and saw his silhouette move to the side, making room for me. I got under the covers and wrapped my arms around him, my chin on the top of his head while he dragged his right leg on top of my left one. “Getting comfy?” I asked.
“Very,” Snow mumbled into my chest. Despite claiming to be cold, he seemed quite warm. Maybe because I was still clammy from not drinking anything, which I had completely forgotten about when I kissed him. “You’re comfortable.” (Yeah, fuck that. I can wait until morning. I'd actually be crazy to pass up an opportunity like this one.)
“I’m glad you think so, Snow.” I pressed a small kiss to his forehead. “Sleep now, ‘kay?”
“‘Mkay.” Shortly after I heard soft-ish snoring coming from my chest and I drifted off to sleep, the boy of my dreams in my arms.