Snowbaz Oneshots

It's 2AM, It Feels Like Summer

Welcome to a completely self-indulgent, fast burn, strangers to butterfly saviours to lovers, ode-to-wonderful-mothers fic. I hope you enjoy! The nature lover in me exploded all over this one, lol.

Summary: Baz and Simon's mutual love for nature brings them together, however unconventionally.

Read as you see fit here- warnings for feelings of loss/Baz and Simon coping with losing parents, as well as mild/canon-level-or-less language.

Title from "Happiness is a butterfly" by Lana Del Ray, because even though I think the vibe of the song is much less peppy than this story's is, the song's title was super fitting and the lyric from the song was super fitting, so I had to, lol! I also listened to a few other songs while writing: "Open"/Khalid, "What A Man Gotta Do"/Jonas Brothers, and "Just Like Heaven"/The Cure, if anyone's looking for reading tunes that fit the story :)

Simon

The first day of summer has finally hit, so I grab my brand-new licence, start my car, and head off to Second Street Arboretum.

Since this month was the last one of my senior year, I was so busy and exhausted due to schoolwork, I could hardly tell right from left on a good day. My sleep schedule hasn't been too pleased, either. But I'd promised myself that once spring came in March, I'd carve time out of my schedule to visit Second Street, regardless of school. And so, from March on, I started coming regularly.

I pull into the parking lot and step out of my car. I can already smell the flowers surrounding the pond a couple dozen feet away. It feels nice to get to come here with no other obligations hanging over me, on a completely empty summer morning.

My mum used to take me here every other day after school, during the weather-appropriate months. Hop in the car, rosebud boy, she'd say every now and then upon picking me up. You look like you need some sunshine, honey.

She would point out flowers to me as we walked through the arboretum, telling me what each one stood for and whether they were annual or perennial. I couldn't retain much of it, despite how I loved the sound of her voice in the open air. Now, I wish I had- I wish I'd paid closer attention, or written things down.

As I walk today, I feel the hole in my chest, filled with loss. I stroll past every manner of thorny bush and pastel flower in the familiar park, imagining up meanings for each one, thinking of Mum. (When I get to the stone path, I even find a pink petal lying untouched on the grey rock, so I pocket it for Gran. Since I've started staying with her, I've noticed that she keeps a bowl of petals on the kitchen table. And I think it makes her happy to know that I'm visiting the arboretum, remembering Mum.)

It doesn't take me long to make my way to the greenhouse, and I pop in, carefully manoeuvring through the butterfly curtain and feeling the humidity hit me.

The place is deserted for the most part, with just a couple of visitors and a couple of employees. I recognize the people who aren't here to work- the greenhouse is my most frequented part of the park, and they seem to haunt it pretty often, too. And standing in the back corner, holding a big bucket of plant food, is the guy who just started working here a month or so ago. He's got his long, black hair in a bun today, and he waves a wave almost too tiny for me to see before turning back to his current job. I rip my gaze from his direction a couple of seconds too late.

We've never spoken- I only know his name because of the tag on his shirt. Baz.

Okay, maybe I've been coming here so often for two reasons.