crowley: a snowbaz fanfiction

to magick or not to magick

SIMON SNOW
He's wearing the jeans again. The dark ones that are just the right amount of slim and just the right amount of loose. And his hair is just how I like it, with a few pieces of perfect raven black strands framing his face. It's still a little weird to see him-and myself- without a Watford uniform on.
And don't get me started on Watford. I do miss the place, though I'm not ever able to go near it again. I think Baz knows, because he gets quieter than usual when the subject comes up.
I did get to keep the uniform, however, even after all the times Baz has told me it's not healthy to have a daily reminder of what you are missing. Magick. Especially since I used to wear it every day, even on breaks, in the words of Baz.
In fact, he didn't even let me go to his graduation ceremony. Despite being the top of his class, I didn't even get to congratulate him. (And we all know he likes the attention).
But I wish he wouldn't be so protective. It's not that I don't like it, I just don't know how to give back to Baz, for all he's done for me.
Except for that time when he pushed me down the stairs. Or kissed Agatha. Those times he just gave me broken bones and a broken heart.