The Sound of a Breaking Heart

                                    

                                          
It's early morning when Baz makes his way back to Simon's tree. He fell asleep there by the water, letting the waves wash over his feet and lull him into a more pleasant slumber. It must have been some sort of collecting point for the currents and tides because when he woke up he found himself surrounded by small objects that had washed up from the water. They were silly little things––a necklace, a photograph, a doll. He wondered how they all had gotten to the shore on Neverland. They certainly weren't from Neverland. They looked a lot like things he would find at home. The morning light looks lovely on the water and part of him wants to stay and watch it as it shines across the startling blue surface, but he knows that he should get back to Simon. He doesn't want him to worry. 
                          
Since Simon showed him the secret knob, it's easy enough for him to get in. He expects to find Simon still asleep on the bed, but the blanket is a mess and the bed is empty. Faintly, he hears sniffling from upstairs. His smile drops and he rushes up the wooden steps and finds Simon hunched over at the small table near the makeshift kitchen with what looks like a calendar in his hands. Baz comes up behind him and drapes his arms over Simon's shoulders, giving him an awkward hug from behind. 
                          
Simon freezes for a moment and then turns to face Baz. It breaks Baz's heart to see the tears in his eyes––the evidence of his sadness streaked down his face. He brushes away a few tears with the pad of his thumb and crouches down so he and Simon are the same height. 
                          
"Simon," he whispers, keeping his hand cupped on Simon's tear-stained cheek. "Simon, what's wrong?"
                          
Simon doesn't answer him with words. Instead, he sobs and wraps his arms around Baz, sending them both tumbling to the floor. He rubs soothing circles on Simon's bare back as Simon heaves against his chest, his hands scrambling to find purchase in Baz's soft shirt. 
                          
"It's okay," he says, not really sure if that's true. "You're okay. Whatever it is, it'll be alright." 
                          
Simon pulls off him and shakes his head, digging his knuckles into his eyes to fight the tears back. He rubs his nose on his forearm. "It's not. It's not okay. I've fucked everything up. Again." 
                          
Baz frowns at him and winds a hand in Simon's bronze curls, feeling how soft they are. He lets one slip through his fingers. "What happened?"
                          
"I had a fight with Penny. She left and she...oh, God, Baz, what year is it?"
                          
He's very confused. This whole time, he's gone on thinking that Simon doesn't care what year it is. That Simon doesn't want to know how long he's actually been in Neverland. A part of Baz understands this, especially considering how old Simon must be based on his vocabulary and knowledge about normal life. And he doesn't want to tell Simon because he doesn't want to make him more sad than he is, but he also knows that he can't deny Simon's request to know. So he keeps one hand in Simon's hair and the other on his cheek and brings them both into a seated position. He lazily runs his thumb in circles on Simon's smooth, wet skin. 
                          
"Are you sure you want to know?" 
                          
Simon nods.
                          
"It's...it's 2020, Simon."
                          
Simon doesn't say anything for a moment. He bites his quivering lip and looks up at the ceiling. There are fresh tears pooling in his eyes and Baz thinks he might start crying again. And this is the part that Baz has never been good at––helping people through things. He can read emotions pretty well, but his own always stay pretty hidden. Kept safe under a layer of sarcasm and biting wit. For Baz, helping people and showing his own emotions made him too vulnerable for his liking. His father always told him that. To keep his emotions under a cloud of scowls, sneers, and half-hearted eyebrow raises. But Simon is about to start crying again and Baz's heart breaks at the thought of just watching when he knows that he could at least try and help. So he clears his throat.
                          
"Are you...okay?"
                          
Simon nods. "I knew it. Penny left me a calendar. But I couldn't be sure..." Simon holds it out for Baz to look at. The circled date is, or at least was, the right date. 
                          
"Do you want to talk about it? Any of it?" 
                          
Simon shakes his head. "No. No use, is there? I need to show you more stuff, anyway. You haven't even met Ebb yet." 
                          
Simon starts to climb off of him but Baz knows that he's deflecting. Because Simon always deflects. Because Simon Snow didn't come to Neverland to escape growing up––because he came to Neverland to escape himself. Baz understands this, now. All of the games and the fights with pirates are a way for Simon to occupy his mind so he doesn't have to think about anything. So he doesn't have to think about his old life and what he left behind in London. And the realization makes Baz's heart ache for him. And break for him. Because Simon Snow isn't some careless boy who's good with a sword––he's broken and beaten and battered. 
                          
Baz realizes that he didn't need Simon Snow to come and save him. 
                          
He needed to save Simon Snow. 
                          
So Baz grabs his hand. "Hey," he says, softly. "I want you to talk to me about this. Please. I want...I want to understand. I want to help." 
                          
"There's nothing to say. We got in a fight about something stupid and she left me a bunch of papers about my past."
                          
"What about your past?"
                          
Simon looks like he wants to fight Baz, but he gives in almost instantly. His shoulders slump forward. "My father. He said...I always thought my mother died in childbirth. He made me feel so guilty about it. But I was wrong. She was killed."
                          
Baz lowers his gaze. It hurts to see Simon so sad. "Oh."
                          
"He killed her, actually."
                          
Baz looks back up at him. "What? How? Why?"
                          
Simon shrugs. "Dunno. I couldn't...it was too hard for me to read it. But he was killed for his crimes because she was from a noble family. And...what if I'm like him, Baz?"
                          
"Simon, you are nothing like him."
                          
And he really does believe that. 
                          
"I've killed before."
                          
"Pirates and creatures. Evil things. You're a hero."
                          
"No I'm not!" Simon shouts, floating up into the air a bit with the outburst. He flushes, embarrassed, and comes back down. "I'm not a hero. I'm just a boy with a sword playing make-believe."
                          
Baz shakes his head at him. Grabs Simon by the shoulders. Forces Simon to look at him. "You have been through hell. Okay? You've been through hell so many times over and you survived. And you are incredibly strong and brave and ridiculous and beautiful for it. And I'm so sorry that your father was such a dick, but you know what? It doesn't matter. You couldn't be anything like him if you tried because you realized he was evil and you got away. He was a bloody pirate, too, Simon. Just like the ones you've fought and beaten. And you've beaten him and he's gone and you are nothing like him."
                          
Simon stares at him for a moment, mouth hanging open, then surges forward and catches Baz's lips in his own. It only lasts for a moment––just long enough for Baz to quell his surprise and kiss him back. When Simon pulls back, he has a watery, tear-stained grin on his face. 
                          
"Let's go on another adventure, shall we?"