Rosebud Boys (Snowbaz fanfic)

Yellow

Snow asked Agatha to the dance.

He found her alone in the cafeteria, after everyone had left. He asked her to come outside with him. They watched the stars for a few minutes. He had yellow roses. It was perfect. It was beautiful. It was everything he thought he deserved, everything he's ever wanted. The bastard.

It's not like I watched on purpose or anything. I was walking past the doors and noticed someone was in there. I followed them out because by then, I was too curious not to. I was not jealous. My Aunt Fiona told me that Pitches never get jealous, they get what they want. What do I want? I don't know anything. My thoughts are foggy. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Am I jealous of Snow? That he got a date and I didn't? Is that it? I only have one other option of what this abyss in my stomach could be. I don't even want to think about that option.

So I need a date to this dance, but I can't get one. My father would never let his son bring a boy to the dance. The only two things about me I can't control and he hates me for them.

Aleister Crowley, what a charmed life I'm living.

To let off some steam, I decide to kill innocent rodents from the catacombs. It's not particularly emotionally fulfilling, but it's something, at least. I'm all caught up in my schoolwork, and in violin (strictly to annoy Snow), so I might as well eat. Besides, it's comfortable in the dark.

En route to the catacombs, I notice two things; One, Simon Snow is following me, very closely and not at all sneakily. Two, the place in the woods where I got stabbed by a unicorn still has my blood on the tree. Disgusting. One would think the dryads had a little more incentive to keep their home blood-free. But enough about my humiliating struggle against a glorified horse. I still haven't a clue in the slightest what Snow's doing out, especially following me.

It's taking all of my self-control not to turn around, fangs out, and make him soil himself. The expression on his face would be worth getting cast from the Book, if I'm being honest.

Oh, and one other thing I noticed: Bunce is following Simon, not bothering at all to hide her disdain for being there. She's not as obnoxious as Snow, but she's annoying by association. They think they're being quiet, but I can pick up on every word of their conversation.

"Penny, I swear to God, he's planning something," Simon whispers

"Simon, I swear to God, he's NOT. Let's leave. It's cold, and if you get sick, it'll be my fault." Penny has some sense in her head. I wonder why she chooses to hang around with the likes of Simon Snow, Pretentious Airhead and apparently, Savior of the World of Mages.

"But what if I'm right?" Simon presses. I almost laugh out loud.

"When are you ever right? If he was plotting something, you'd be scoring better in your classes." Now this I audibly guffaw at.

"Low blow," he mumbles. My day has been made better. I'm going to save this conversation forever in my mind.

The sun is sinking behind the treeline. It would be a beautiful sight, if I cared about that type of thing. The wooden entrance to the catacombs is ~incidentally~ left open behind me, just to let me hear any more conversations between Snow and Bunce. Hopefully they don't find it too out of character.

I walk down the same path I usually do. Down the bigger corridor, second left, fourth right. This is the path to an abandoned wine cellar. One part of the wall here is newer than the rest, a slightly lighter gray mortar coating the bricks. This particular part of the tunnel is right underneath the moat, so there's nitre everywhere. There's nothing special about this vein of the catacombs, but once, very long ago, I swore that I smelled old blood-HUMAN blood- coming from this direction. Eventually I figured out that somebody had been bricked in behind the new part, so I lounge about in this part to throw my stalkers off. They's been trailing behind, so they won't know I've stopped. Hopefully they'll walk right in. That would be amusing.

Unfortunately, Snow is more perceptive than I anticipated and they wait outside.

"See, I told you. He's in there." Simon is audibly crossing his arms in indignation.

"Okay, but that doesn't mean he's plotting. Maybe he likes hanging around in the dark, away from you." I'm beginning to believe that Penny knows I can hear them.

"Very true," I respond, hopefully loud enough for only Penny to hear. I think I succeeded, as she snickers.

"Can you hear me?" She whispers. I reply with a "Yes."

"Of course I can, you dolt, you're right behind me." Simon is out of the loop on this one, as per usual. Maybe he lacks the same hearing capabilities most humans have.

"This utter prat," she mumbles.

"Perfectly normal, I'd say," is my answer.

"Finally you agree with me," Simon sighs.

Needless to say, I'm going to replay that moment in my head for the rest of my life.

After about five minutes of silence from the three of us, Penny manages to persuade Simon to head back into the castle. This time, I follow them. It was a nice change of pace. I take a shortcut into the castle so that I'm back before the two of them. The look of shock on Simon's face is the last thing from the night that I truly want to save in my mind.

I am woken up in the morning by Snow panicking about the dance. The god damned dance. He's pacing the floor, hands in his hair, face flustered, and magic boiling. I'm not woken up by sounds so much as movement, but neither of those was what drew me out of bed this morning. No, I was awoken by the obnoxious amount of magic in the air.

"Snow, unless the Humdrum is sitting outside, there is no reason I should be waking up to you blowing a fuse." I can hear the malice in my own voice.

"Shut your mouth, Baz. I didn't ask for your opinion," he growls through gritted teeth.

"And I didn't ask to be woken up, or for your attitude, for that matter, so either calm down or go kill something." I flop back down into my tangled sheets, hoping that the conversation would be over. Of course, it isn't.

"Fuck off, Baz." He seems to calm down a bit when I don't answer.

I can't fall back asleep, so I'm stuck listening to Simon talking to himself. From what I can tell, he has nothing to wear for the dance. Of course. He's never had anything nicer than £20 jeans.

I feel badly, learning this. I like to parade around, making sure he knows that I have more than he ever will, but truth be told, it's a dick thing to do. I am a complete arse to him sometimes, but it's all for a reason.

So that's why, after he leaves, I find one of my spare suits and leave it on his bed. It's a navy blue one, which would fit him nicely. It's too small for me now, anyway. I think blue would look nice on him.