Chamber by Chamber // Snowbaz

The Stars Taunt Us

Otp Prompt #20: Simon and Baz broke up a year ago, and after all that time, they see each other again at a club. Will an old flame re-spark, or is leaving it put out for the best?

Warning: This doesn't have outright spoilers, but it kind of hints at a few WS things. Also; this is very much not a super fluffy fic. This is a lot more angst than fluff.

*Baz's POV*

It's been a year. A year since I have held Simon Snow in my arms. A year since I've kissed him and told him I loved him. For 365 days, I've barely scraped by in this bloody worthlessness of an existence. And I will be drawn and fucking quartered if I manage to stay sober tonight. I can't stop thinking about how he ended it.

"Baz, I just- I can't!" Simon looked at me like he was tired. Tired of what?
"You can't what, Snow? You can't touch me? I don't care! I love you!" We were shouting in our apartment. We were just kissing when he had pulled away and started to shout. He tugged at his hair then, and his tail was whipping around furiously.

"I can't... I can't do this. Baz, I think I need some... some time. I just can't be with you in the way you want me to be."

"Snow, anywhere you are is where I want to be. I don't care if you don't talk to me or touch me. I don't even care if you look at me. I can't be happy without you," I was trying (and failing) not to cry. He had been crying too, and it felt like the world was finally ending. "Please, Simon. We can work this out."

He paused for a moment, seeming like maybe he wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that we could fix the broken mess that was us. He just shook his head. "I-I'm sorry." He looked away from me. With a sigh, I left our apartment and slammed the door behind me. I didn't go back.

When someone says that they're done with you, they mean it. When someone tosses you to the side like some piece of fucking trash, do you stay and fight for them, or accept that all you are to them is garbage? When someone says they don't give a bloody shit about you... they probably genuinely don't give a shit. Simon Snow told me to leave. Told me that he didn't want me anymore. (Honestly, I wasn't surprised. I had always waited for the day when he changed his mind. He finally did.) I could have stayed and fought for someone who didn't want me or I could have fucked right off. To me, the answer was simple.

I left. When I was younger and living with Simon at Watford, I spent everyday telling myself that it would end in flames. I suppose it finally did. It ended in huge, evil-eyed and hungry flames. It got better after a few months. I got a job as a barista for the time being until I can get a real job. (I made sure it wasn't a coffee shop that Snow ever went to.) Everything was going just bloody fine until this morning, the anniversary of our break-up. I woke up in a sweat from a nightmare (of Snow dying, of course. Irony is the bitch- not karma) and rolled over, reaching for and trying to find Simon. He wasn't there, of course. I went to the shower and cried until it felt as though my lungs would collapse if I didn't stop. (I'm not so sure they didn't.)

Now, here I am, putting on a jacket to go to a club. Not to get laid or dance (I could never be with anyone who's not Snow), but to get completely shit-faced and momentarily forget the pain that comes with loving Simon Snow.

The night sky is taunting and teasing me. The stars wrap around each other, dancing and twinkling together like even the sun itself couldn't separate them. (I went dancing with Simon, once. He was clumsy, and I thought it was cute) (stop fucking thinking, Basilton.) It's clear and the night air is sharp on my face, though I'm too lost in my thoughts to really notice. My apartment is straight across from a good bar that I go to every now and then. (My apartment looks nothing like my old one; I also had to buy all new things. I never bothered picking up my old ones from Simon and I's old apartment.)