Chamber by Chamber // Snowbaz

Some-bud-y to Love

COC #15: Floral

Baz decides on a way to profess his love to Simon through flower combinations.

~ Forgive me if I get some flower things wrong. I'm not an expert. Enjoy! ~

Right. So. It's fifth year. And apparently the world conspired against me and decided to not only take away my mother and make me a vampire, but it also decided it would be a bloody wonderful idea to make me have feelings for the person I'm destined to kill. Of course, I could just simply ignore and/or wank away the problem like a normal human being (normal vampire?) but it's bloody hard when said recipient-of-my-feelings won't stop fucking following me to see what I'm plotting. (Does figuring out how to lowkey snog him count?)

It's unnecessarily grandiose to profess your feelings in flower arrangement form, but what can I say? I have an affliction for flair. (I am, after all, a flaming homosexual.) I've decided that I simply will not be able to continue the next four years with unrequited love without spontaneously combusting. (God, wouldn't Snow just love that?) So I've ordered an arrangement of flowers to give to him that communicates exactly how I feel. He should know what it all means- we've been studying flower meaning in Magicks class lately. (Although he might not pay very much attention, come to think of it. Oh well.) If this doesn't work, I'll probably just... I don't know. Die. From gay panick, perhaps. Maybe I'll pull a heartbroken lover and stake myself.

The flower arrangement is comprised of seven different flowers, each meaning something different. Red Carnations for love (the obvious one) and admiration. (Of course I admire him. Not that I'd ever tell him that. Although I suppose that's what I'm doing now, isn't it?) Hydrangeas for heartfelt emotion and perseverance. (He perseveres as I persevere- just on different tasks.) Soft purple Lilacs to symbolize first love. (And only love. If I ever love another, colour me surprised.) White Lisianthus to represent an everlasting bond. (Of what? Love? Lust? Hate? One can only wait to see.) Baby's Breath to symbolize everlasting love. (A bit redundant, I'm aware. I just want to get the bloody point across.) And last, but certainly not least, Anemones, which are said to bring luck and protection against evil. (Which makes me think about what evil I'm protecting him from- the rest of the world or me?)

Right now he's sitting at the desk pretending to write an essay for Magick Words and I'm pretending to read a book. I quietly put the novel down and go to pick the bouquet up from a drawer in my desk. I suppose now is as good a time as ever. I stand up and walk over to stand at his side, waiting for him to notice me. (What else is new? I've always vied for his attention, good or bad.)

When he finally turns his head towards me, I can feel my body practically yearning to blush. I haven't fed recently though, which I thank Merlin for. (Vampirism has its perks at times.) He looks from the flowers in my hand back up to my face. "Here, Snow." I state simply, handing the flowers out to him. When he doesn't accept them, I toss them on his desk. He jumps back as though I've just thrown the Humdrum himself onto his fucking desk.

"What the bloody hell is this, you tit?"

"Flowers, Snow. Ever heard of them?" He rolls his eyes but stays back, magic rolling off him in waves.

"Are they poisoned?" He asks.

"Wha- no!"

"Spelled to hurt me when I touch them?"

"Spelled? Crowley, Snow, no."

"Then what? What's your angle, Baz?" He eyes me warily as he inches closer to the flowers hesitantly. Just look at the arrangement I want to tell him. (I don't, of course. When have I ever been straightforward?)

"I don't have one, Chosen. I just-"

"Wanted to kill me with flowers? What kind of sick joke even is that?" I throw my hands up in defeat and I sneer at him angrily. (Even when he's mad - or especially when he's mad - he can drive me crazy with his bronze curls and blue eyes.)

"Never mind, Snow! Never fucking mind..." I trail off, huffing to the door.

Before I can slam the door and fully leave the room, he turns to me, looking desperate.

"What am I to do with them?" I could tell him now, I suppose. I could tell him to look up meaning and pay attention in class. I could tell him I love him. Maybe tell him to put them in a vase and water them, understanding my undying love for him as he takes in their beauty.

Instead, I look him in the eyes and say, "Shove them right up your fucking arse, for all I care." And I slam the door in his face.