My Better Half (Sequel to My Cup of Tea)

Chapter Seven

When Baz saw Simon's contact flash up on his mobile, he expected...

Well. He wasn't sure what he expected.

Maybe, since he had seen how thin and how tired Simon (and seen that scar on his forearm) maybe he expected that it wouldn't have been Simon at all. Honestly, when he saw his contact, his stomach sunk to the floor and he felt bile reach up his throat. He thought it was Penelope calling to say that Simon was dead. That it was his fault.

So, when Simons' voice came through, he felt relief wash over him. It quickly subsided again when Simon said that he couldn't be alone. Then, Baz didn't care that he'd told Agatha they could grab lunch. He cancelled his plans with her almost instantly and shot out of his apartment in a desperate attempt to get to Simon as quickly as possible.

He had no idea what had been going on in Simon's life over the past year, but he knew enough from just looking at him to be scared. He wasn't sure Simon would tell him about it, but he wanted him to. He wanted to comfort him and make him feel better. If he could. But he also wanted Simon to keep it to himself because there really was nothing Baz could do to make him feel better. Knowing about what had happened to him (what he had done to himself and why) might have snapped Baz's heart in half.

Simon was already in the cafe, sitting down at a table. He smiled when he saw Baz come in and held up a cup.

Baz raised an eyebrow in confusion but sat down across from him, eyeing the cup suspiciously. 

"I got you that candy bar thing," Simon said, sliding the cup towards him. 

"Pumpkin mocha breve?"

Simon shrugged. "Yeah. Thought it was the least I could do. Y'know, for just barging back into your life."

Please. Barge in whenever you want. Take me away from everything completely.

"Is it poisoned?"

Simon chuckled and rolled his eyes, fiddling with his hair nervously. "'Course not."

Baz took a tentative sip. It was good (and it didn't taste like it had been tampered with). He smiled at Simon, a small corner-of-the-mouth smile, in appreciation. "I can't believe you remembered."

"Hard not to. It's basically a liquid candy bar."

It was silent for a moment. Simon kept running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. It had gotten longer, like maybe he hadn't cut it the entire year. 

Baz cleared his throat. "Are you...are you okay?" 

Simon quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why do you keep asking me that?" 

Baz didn't know if he was allowed to say that he'd seen the scar on his arm. He didn't know if that was crossing a line or something. And, if he did mention it, it would be obvious that it was a memory he had retained from the party. Simon was wearing a jumper, now, sitting across from him. A lovely blue jumper that brought out his eyes. The blue of the jumper tugged at the life in his eyes, bringing it closer. Last time Baz had seen him, his eyes had looked so dead that they were almost grey. 

"Nothing." 

"You can tell me," Simon assured him. "As friends, I think we should be open with each other, yeah?"

Baz nodded. "I suppose. I just don't want you to get, well, uncomfortable. So when I say this, or anything for that matter, if it makes you at all uncomfortable, you can just tell me to bugger off and I'll drop it." 

Simon nodded. 

"I saw that scar," Baz said, trying to choose his words very carefully. "On your forearm. I noticed it when we shook hands. And then, when you called me today, I got a bit worried that you might not be okay. Physically." 

Simon sighed and looked down at his drink. He hadn't touched it. "You thought––I––what? What did you think happened?" 

"What?"

Simon tugged at the sleeve of his jumper. "I just...did you only come today because...because you thought I was––"

"No," Baz said. He wanted, more than anything, to take Simon's hand in his own. "I would've come regardless. But I worried."

Simon looked up at him like he wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not. 

"Simon, of course I'm worried. I think I'll always worry about you. Care about you. Even if we're just friends. Hell, I was worried about you even when we weren't friends. And then, when I saw you...if we're going to be friends, proper friends, I need to know what's going on with you."

"What do you mean? Like a daily check-in?"

"No. I just mean that you need someone. Christ, it doesn't even have to be me, but you do. You need someone who you can call when you're feeling 'suffocated.' I...I wouldn't mind it, being that person for you. And you have every right to tell me to bugger off right now, but I can't help but feel that maybe there's a reason we found each other again. And I haven't a clue about what's been going on in your life and why you're like this, but I'd like to know and I'd like to help. If you'll have me."

Simon looked at him for a moment. He looked at him for a while, actually. Baz had been speaking rather quickly and Simon was generally not very good at processing words. "Okay," he said. "Yeah. I'd like that. I mean, I don't want to, like, burden you with my stupid shit––"

"It's not stupid. Nothing is stupid. It's your mental health and every factor is very important. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." 

Simon smiled at him, the light (his life) reaching his eyes again. "Are you sure? That you––you––want this? Want to have to handle this?"

Baz nodded. In fact, he'd never been more sure of anything in his life.

Yes, he was miserable because he wasn't dating Simon anymore, but this still felt like something. At least, now, he'd be able to be involved in Simon's life. He could be the person who helped get Simon out of his flat when he felt stuck. He could take him on adventures to get his mind off of...whatever his mind was stuck on. Baz would cross every line for him. He would lay down his life for him.

In some ways, this was a promise. A promise that, no matter what, they could be there for each other. It was a promise that Baz was more than willing to stay true to.