Chamber by Chamber // Snowbaz

Longing

COC #1: Sun/Moon

~ I'm absolutely exhausted from all the prompts, but I'm so happy have done them! Enjoy :) ~

"What are you painting?" Snow asks curiously; less of a growl than usual. I'm painting us, I want to tell him.

Instead I say, "The sun and the moon Snow, what does it fucking look like I'm painting?" He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything, still staring at the canvas in front of me. He came into our room in a huff while I was painting (it's the weekend) and sat on his bed, tossing and turning.

"What's wrong now, Snow?" I asked him. He sighed out of his nose but turned to face me.

"Crowley, Baz, just everything. Agatha broke up with me, first of all. And then-"
"Chosen, if I gave the illusion that I actually wanted to hear what was happening in your pathetic life, then I'm truly sorry. Kindly keep two and three to yourself." I wanted to hug him. I just kept my eyes glued on my painting.

"You are such an arsehole," He promptly turned around and we didn't speak again for the next half hour.

I suppose I shouldn't have thought that I'd get another hour without him speaking to me. Merlin, I didn't even get another half hour. He's standing a bit closer now so I can feel the steady thrum of his white hot magic pulse the air around me. I lean a bit back from the painting (and toward Snow. No surprise, there) so that I can study it. I have the sun at the top of the canvas, its red and orange flames licking the sky around it. The clouds near it are aflame just from being a tad bit too close to the sun. On the bottom half of the canvas is the night sky with a moon in the middle. It radiates light, but not nearly as much as the sun. It looks as if it's aching to escape from it's prison with the stars just to join the sun in all its flaming glory in the morning.

But of course, if the moon were to actually touch the sun, it would end in flames. Because every bloody thing the sun touches (or let's be honest, even looks at) turns to fire and ash. Simon is so bright. So beautiful. Every fucking part of me aches to join his world; to get closer to him. Touch him. It's gravity- I'm drawn to him. But of course, the moon and the sun will never actually collide. (Because that would be too bloody much to ask for, now wouldn't it? To collide with Simon?) In my painting, I tried to portray the longing there. The insurmountable fact that they will never be together no matter how much they may want it, because if it were to happen, the sun would inevitably end up killing the moon in a fiery explosion of tears and smoke.

"What is it called?" Simon startles me from my thoughts. (He does that often. Usually to pick a fight, though.)

"What's it called?" I ask him, incredulous.

"Yes, Basilton. The painting. What is it called?" As I turn to face him (in all of his fucking shirtless glory), I consider telling him that it's called Us. Or perhaps, The Story of How I Stupidly Fell In Love With the Sun.

Instead, I say, "Longing," He furrows his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side.

"Longing?"
"Yes, Snow, Longing. As in the sun and the moon long to be together. Can you get that through your thick skull? Or is there even a brain in there to get to?" I don't even phase him with my harrassment. He just keeps staring at the painting for a moment before looking back at me.

"I know what longing means, you git. But it's just that... well it's just so good."

"Well I should hope so; I did spend my young years developing a taste for painting."

"No I mean..." He trails off for a moment thinking. His (extra)ordinary blue eyes feel as though they're blazing right through me and trying to see into my soul. (If I even have one, that is; it's an ongoing debate.) "What do you know about longing, Baz?" Ah, Snow. The eternal idiot.

I let out a dry laugh before turning back to the painting. "You'd be surprised, Simon." I mutter under my breath. From behind me, I hear him take a sharp breath in. Shit. He wasn't supposed to hear me say his name. He taps me on the shoulder and when I turn around, he's looking at the painting closer.

"So the sun is really bright and hot?" He asks me. I scoff but answer is question.

"Yes, Snow," He crinkles his nose. "That's generally how the sun works."

"And the moon wants to be with the sun, but it can't because otherwise it would burn?" I'm surprised he actually understood. Although I suppose the title might've given it away a bit.

"Yes," I whisper. I stand up so that I have a few inches on him again. It was just simply unnatural seeing him look down at me. "Well, although that was a nice art session, I really must be getting to bed, Snow." I start walking to my bed, but Simon stops me, looking angry.

"You called me Simon before," He insists. I roll my eyes at him, trying to move to my bed, but he still doesn't let me go.

I let out a long disdainful sigh and say, "No, I didn-" I feel his lips pressed against mine hungrily, with urgency, prying my lips open to gain access with his tongue. My mouth happily obliges. He has me by the tie with one hand, his other tangling in my hair. His mouth is as hot as the sun; just as I had suspected. He's doing this thing with his jaw, and it is absolutely fucking arousing. He pulls back suddenly, but not far. As he speaks, his lips still brush against mine.

"You aren't burning, are you?" I pull back a little, confused.

"What?" He smiles a bit.

"We just 'collided'. You were just with me. And, um," He stutters over his words, back to the normal blushing fool I fell in love with. "Well you didn't burn, now did you?"

I laugh back a little with him and pull him in for another kiss- this one gentler. Softer. I pull back and pause for a moment, theatrically looking lost in thought. When I look back up at him, his eyes are curious. "No, Simon. I guess I didn't." And I pull him back in.