Embrace the Fall

Chapter 1

Simon

    Baz rolls over in his bed and glares at me from across the room as soon as I drag myself out from under my sheets and blearily set foot on the rough, wood paneled floor. I don't know how he does it, I'm certain that he goes out hunting while I'm asleep some nights and yet he's never woken me; not once.

     "Snow, I don't think they can hear you at the Magick school in France," he sneers (somehow his voice is just as scathing as it is when he's fully awake), "do you think you could be any louder? I'm not asking for me, I just don't think anybody should be cheated out of the knowledge that the chosen one is up and ready to start the day off with a bang."

    "Sod off," I moan indignantly. Doesn't he know it's too early for insults? I make sure to throw extra weight into each step as I stomp off to the bathroom to get a shower.

Baz

    Truth be told, I've figured out how to time my sleeping so that I wake up just a bit before Snow every morning. I like the way he looks while he sleeps, and even though I have better night vision than most people (all people. I suppose I don't exactly count as a person), it feels like I'm only really seeing him when the sun begins to rise and its light glints through the slit between the curtains. I can see his golden curls strewn across his head in a direct defiance of any sort of tidiness, and I see his rosy cheeks speckled with moles (sometimes I wonder what he would do if I just walked over and started stroking them. His cheeks, that is. I would lick his moles. Obviously. Is non-consensual mole licking a violation of the anthema? Does it really matter?)

Whenever he actually starts to wake up I just roll back over until I take the first chance I get to tell him that he stumbles around with less grace than a blind, one legged troll. Crowley, I torture myself.

    The shower turns off and a few moments later Snow walks quickly out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Only. A. Towel. Neither of us ever dresses in front of the other; it isn't just habit, it's an unspoken rule. Thank Magic for that, if I had to see his chest glistening wet like this every day I think I'd hit him square in the jaw just so the anthema would give me a reason to leave and never come back.

Snow glances at me quickly, clearly embarrassed, and hurriedly snatches some clothes out of his wardrobe. He must have forgotten to grab them earlier, too intent on getting away from me as quickly as possible. It's only after he goes back into the bathroom to change that I remember to close my mouth. Fuck.

Simon

    Most of my classes are with Baz but today I notice him avoiding me much more than usual. He barely stops to sneer at me and Agatha when he notices us holding hands in the hallway. I get that he probably has a thing for her (a guy'd have to be nuts not to have a thing for Agatha Wellbelove) but for someone who always goes on about having so much more class than I do, you'd think he would at least try to be a bit more subtle.

One time I caught him staring her down in the dining hall, looking up at her through his droopy eyelids (I'm not even sure how he made it seem like he was looking up because he's probably ten feet taller than her) and full on biting his bottom lip. His lips really aren't fair, they're just as perfect as the rest of him, hell, even I thought it was fucking attractive. If I tried doing that people would just assume I had herpes. With that being said, the most Agatha will do, even with me, is give a quick peck on the cheek to say hello or goodbye, so I'm not very worried about Baz and her fooling around.

Magical families are almost never religious, but minus the whole 'God' thing, Agatha reminds me of a Catholic. We're already sixth years and we've never had a real kiss. I would never pressure her to do any more than she's ready for, but I can always hope (and be prepared. Ever since we started dating, I've taken care douse my tongue in toothpaste every morning and scrubbing it like a bloody idiot until I'm sure my mouth smells minty and completely kissable). Baz loves to joke about how I'm never even going to make it to first base, let alone past. Truth is, I can't even find the sodding field.

It is strange though... it's almost as if I rattled Baz this morning. Is he like Kaz Brekker, does he have some intense issue with human skin? Then again, he plays football and he gets plenty physical on the pitch (probably a bit too physical). Maybe I just need to lay off the sour cherry scones. Or maybe Baz doesn't want to fight anymore.  

Right. Scones it is.