16. She Doesn't Wellbe-love You

                                    

                                          
A/N: Sorry this is short y'all. Life is hard rn. Promise I'll update some juicy actually good content on the weekend.
                          
Simon
                          
Dr Wellbelove drove Agatha and I back to their place in London for midterm break. A few weeks ago it seemed like a good idea, but ever since the ball Agatha seemed distant. To be fair, I never went back to the ball after Baz kissed me. I forgot. I just went back to my room and sat on the shower floor for the better part of an hour contemplating the last six years of my existence. Upon reflection, not coming back for Agatha was a bad move on my part but my mind was otherwise pre-occupied. But Agatha still spent the whole car ride to London sulking and ignoring me. Dr Wellbelove didn't seem to notice. 
                          
When we arrived at the townhouse, the dining table was laden with a delicious display of roast vegetables and a large rotisserie chicken. Likely the amazing work of Helen, the Wellbelove's housekeeper. Agatha's parents stirred up pleasant conversation. 
                          
"How's school going, Simon? Agatha tells us you're on the football team, which position are you playing?" That sort of thing.
                          
Agatha acted peculiarly agreeable to me around her parents. Throwing loving smiles at me and taking my hand under the table. But the look in her eyes didn't reflect her actions. Her usual warm brown eyes were bitter and resentful like cold coffee. I pushed the thought of a potential fight away and continued on the chicken.
                          
When we finished our meal, Dr Wellbelove returned to his study and Mrs Wellbelove to her room. Agatha made a fuss over being tired and wanting to bed but I could tell she was restless so when her parents were out of sight I followed her down the corridor to her bedroom in an attempt to explain myself. 
                          
"Agatha?" I asked as I knocked.
                          
"What is it Simon?" her voice frustrated. 
                          
"I just wanted to talk."
                          
A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "About what? You ditching me at the ball? Just leave, Simon. I'll get over it soon enough and then you can have your happily ever after back."
                          
"Agatha, look-" I stepped further into her room, raking my hands through my hair. "I didn't mean to. It's just that Baz-"
                          
"Baz what Simon? Looked suspicious? You thought you saw a fang? Give it up already." She turned to her mirror, exasperated, and dragged a brush harshly through her already tidy hair.
                          
"He was staring at you!" I shouted.
                          
"Everyone stares at me Simon. But I chose you. That's what counts. You know that."
                          
"You don't get it."
                          
"Oh, don't I?" her voice thick with irritation. "You and Basilton have been feuding since 1st year in some absurd battle for dominance. And as soon as he sets his sights on something you think belongs to you, your claws are at his throat."
                          
"I don't think you belong to me." I pleaded.
                          
"Don't you?"
                          
"No, Agatha I-"
                          
"I think we need a break, Simon."
                          
"But-"
                          
"Go to Penny's or something."
                          
I stood in the doorway for a long while before I realised she wasn't joking. So I close the door, go to the guest room and ring Penny.
                          
"What do you mean your mum doesn't want me there?"
                          
"She's in the middle of exam marking, Simon. She's afraid you'll knock something over, or go off."
                          
"I'm not going to go off!"
                          
"Simon, I don't think you have much authority over that. Anyway, Agatha will probably wake up and forgive you."
                          
"Unlikely."
                          
With no success at the Bunce household, I pondered how bad of an idea my last resort was and concluded it would be better than spending two weeks with my ex-girlfriend. So, I headed silently to the kitchen and flipped to the back of Mrs Wellbelove's diary to the address book. 
                          
Bunce, Davidson, Flemington, Grimm.
                          
I copied the address down onto the back of an old receipt and shoved it into the pocket of my jeans. The next morning at 6am I caught the first train from London to Winchester, then a taxi to the driveway of the address on the back of the receipt.
                          
***
                          
Baz stands in the doorway looking as cool as ever, despite his comically out of character Dachshund pyjamas.
                          
"Care for a croissant?" He asks.
                          
My stomach growls in response. "Yes please."