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It’s been dark. It’s been dark in his life for a long time. Ever since he was a little boy, losing his mum to enemies that turned him into one of them. It was dark and the light wouldn’t turn back on, no matter what he did. He was young, alone and scared. No one talked to him about what had happened, about what was happening and about what was going to happen. No one knew. He just had to wait and see. He just had to wait. Wait to see if there’d be any change. For a while, he thought maybe the change would be light, bright, taking away some of the dark. But it didn’t happen. The change made it darker. He wasn’t aware it would be possible, he didn’t think it could. Life got darker. He was getting older and knew that it’d only get darker; soon he’d be less and less human. He’d be a monster.
Then the light came. Not from within him, as he had hoped. It didn’t change him. But it was there. Light. Light in his life. He went to school and was put in a room filled with brightness, all because of one boy. So much light. Light he couldn’t touch. Couldn’t quite reach. He couldn’t let the light in his life, it was forbidden. His dark was too strong, too much to try to let in the light. The dark consumed him, lived within him, was part of him. Was him. He couldn’t be friends with the boy that was so much. He was light; not just his golden hair and his bright smile, his laugh as well as his anger and aggression. For someone’s anger to be bright, to be so golden, shows they are so alive. The boy is golden in every aspect, but mostly the magic within him was so bright. Too bright. Burning.
That wasn’t the main reason, though. The reason was that he was all that was bad with the World of Mages, all that was bad for his family. He had to hate him. He ought to. It was what he was taught. That was how it was supposed to be.
So he did. (He couldn’t. Not like he was supposed to).
At first, all he wanted but couldn’t have was to befriend the golden boy. He wanted to let the light this boy shone upon the world to be his, he wanted to walk in the light and let it take away the dark. But he couldn’t. Because the boy was the Chosen One and he hated the Chosen one.
When he got a bit older he realized he didn’t just want to be his friend. He wanted to love him. The light. He wanted to feel the rays of sunshine on his skin, he wanted to make this brightness his. He wanted to be with the Golden boy. He wanted to touch his golden hair and kiss the bright smile on his lips, he wanted to hold his hand and count his freckles. But he couldn’t. He’d burn if he came to close.
He did burn. He did get too close. Had too many feelings, stepped towards the light. And it burned him. Without the boy being aware.
Ironic, isn’t it, the boy shining so bright being called ‘Snow’, as if everything he came upon wouldn’t melt. He wasn’t Snow, he was the opposite. He was the sun.
He was the sun, and Baz was crashing into him.
And then he did step into the light and did not burn. The light washed away some of the dark. And not from a distance anymore. And it was brilliant, blissful. Magical, one could say. For a time. Until the light became dim, and stopped shining as bright. It didn’t go out, but it wasn’t as bright, it wasn’t the same anymore. No smiles, no jokes, even the anger wasn’t as bright. Because Snow had been through too much, too young, too quick.
Baz was worried, that maybe his darkness had affected the boy. He knew it was worse than that. It was the magic going out, the brightness disappearing, because the boy couldn’t feel it anymore.
In America, Baz thought that the brightness was returning. Sometimes he’d get a glimpse of gold, coming from Simon. With his wings spread wide, a grin on his face, the wind through his curls. You’re so golden, Baz would think then. It wasn’t like old Simon – not like Watford Simon – but it was a good, new Simon. A bright Simon. And then the vampires happened and they both nearly died and bright Simon disappeared, which was to be expected and normal, everyone’s brightness dimmed after the attacks.
He knew Penny couldn’t possibly know that they were having the most important talk of their relationship right that moment on the beach, but he hated her anyway for interrupting. He wondered what Simon was going to say, he wondered whether it was a good thing she interrupted. He knew the chance was high that Simon was going to dump him, right there on the beach. Maybe Penny saved the day, literally, gave him an extra day in this relationship. (He wasn’t aware she’d already given him extra weeks. Neither was she, when she told them she’d booked a holiday to America).
The flight back to England was terrible, and all Baz could feel was the darkness within him. All he wanted was to grab Simon, hold on to him, beg him to give him some of the light that had made him feel better, feel something. Simon was nervous the whole trip, anxiety written on his face, ready to save the whole magical world even though he did not have any magic anymore. Baz wished he could give it back to him, wished he could tear out his own magic and hand it all to Simon, wished he could give Simon what he wanted. He told Simon to try to get some sleep, so he’d have all the energy he needed when they landed. He wasn’t sure if he said it because he meant it or because there was a small chance that if Simon went to sleep he’d rest his head on Baz’s shoulder, and Baz was craving the contact. So close. Simon was always so close. But so unreachable. And the pain was worse, worse than the years hauled up in a room together. Because back then Baz knew it was impossible. Now, he knew that something was broken, but he just didn’t know how to fix it.
(Simon did end up resting his head on Baz’s shoulder. The warmth radiating from him reminded Baz of the first sun rays in springtime, tentatively trying to warm the earth but not yet committing fully).
The drive from the airport to Watford is filled with anxiety. Everyone is nervous about what they’ll find when they get there. Penny only said their adventures in America sparked some reaction in England and now there were creatures at Watford, trying to overrule the mages. Baz isn’t sure whether it’s vampires again, or some other creature, or everything. He did hear the explanation, but Penny wasn’t sure about what her mum had said on the phone and Baz’s heart hadn’t been in it. His heart was still on the beach. Waiting for Simon to finish whatever he was going to say. He is stuck in that moment and he can’t get out. He feels so much dread. Darkness. Because it could all be the end. So quickly. And he wouldn’t know what to do with himself then. Would he go back to America and live in Lamb’s kingdom? He knows though, that whatever happens, he will stay as close to Simon as he’ll allow him. Because he doesn’t know what else to do. He once said Simon was the sun. He still is. And if Baz is not with him, not crashing into him, he’ll orbit around him. At a safe distance, but still. Close. He will orbit, forever.
The fight is bad. There’s not just vampires, but many other creatures, trying to kill as many mages as possible. All adult mages are fighting, and they have the upper hand. There’s no way these creatures are going to win. He knows that if Simon still had his magic, his dangerous magic, he could defeat all of them in a second. But he doesn’t, so it’s taking all the mages together (plus one dragon-boy with a sword) and their power to defeat the magical creatures on the lawns of Watford School of Magic, close to the tower in the top of which Baz grew up, always in the golden light Simon displayed back then.
While he tears off vampire heads, blows up pixies and sets trolls on fire, he watches. He watches Simon fly and use his sword with as much power and commitment as he used to pour into his magic and sword fighting during these situations. Simon is swift, ruthless and so beautiful. And while Baz is fighting the darkness around him, trying to defend the mages and knowing that it could mean the end of life as he and his friends know it if they lose, he watches Simon be golden. He is shining. He is so goddamn beautiful.
(And Baz thinks that no matter how much magic Simon has lost, he’ll always shine compared to Baz, not just in fights like this, but at any moment)
It’s weeks after the fight at Watford. Life is more or less back to normal. Baz and Simon are not better. Not worse. The same. Them.
The darkness is still there. But Simon is turning brighter. Something in America (or during the fight) changed him. Baz notices he’s making more of an effort. He doesn’t lie on the couch whole days, he doesn’t drink that much cider anymore, he doesn’t ignore Baz or Penny. He flinches still, sometimes, when either of them use magic. He cries sometimes. And Baz loves it. He doesn’t love that Simon is hurting, he doesn’t love when Simon cries. But he loves it because it means Simon is letting himself feel, it means Simon is alive. It means he’s returning. Not returning. He won’t be back, won’t be his old self. No one could, no one should, after that. But it’s a version of Simon. Still golden.
And as the brightness returns, the smiles and the laughs, the charisma and the tempers, the beauty and the sadness, Baz is confronted with his own darkness again. It had never disappeared. Never even faded. But because he was so focused on getting back to the light, bringing back the sun, he forgot about it. Now he sees it again, contrasted against the boy sitting next to him on the couch, yelling at him from opposite ends of the kitchen, walking next to him on the street, lying next to him in bed (they share beds now. They haven’t talked about the beach, they haven’t talked much, but they’ve moved forward. They share beds now. Sometimes).
He knows they need to talk. He knows it’s not just Simon that needs to talk and that needed to confront the dark. Baz knows he needs to say things out loud. But Simon is just- so bright. So bright. Too bright? Pulling him towards the light. Golden.
Baz opens his eyes. It’s a summer morning and they didn’t close the curtains properly last night. A beam of light reaches the bed, shining exactly on Simon’s face, lighting him up, bathing him in a golden light. He doesn’t need it though. He’s golden from himself. Almost too bright, for Baz.
(And you might not have your magic anymore. You might not shine in the way the magic made you. You’re still so bright, Simon. Too bright for me. While I’m here, broken, you’re so bright, the sun, waiting for me in the sky.)
Simon opens his eyes and studies Baz the way he has been doing for the past few weeks. As if there’s more to him, something for Simon to discover. Something that’s hidden and one day Simon will find out what. Baz doesn’t want him to. It’ll break them. Simon reaches out his hand and caresses Baz’s cheek, smiling softly. He’s beautiful. The sunbeam amplifying how golden he is.
“You were going to break up with me, on the beach, weren’t you?” Baz says out loud. He thinks he’s saying it in his head, but he hears it in the air. He’s said it and there’s no turning back. Simon stops smiling. The world doesn’t break. Not yet.
The boy in the golden lighting nods. “Yeah”
“Do you still want to?”
“No”. The reply comes so strong, so loud, and so fast, so bright, Baz knows it’s real. If Simon had magic he could feel the reply. He doesn’t need the magic, though. It’s clear, it’s bright – like everything Simon does or is, and Baz knows now.
“I was wrong. I thought you wouldn’t want me, or deserved better, after I lost my magic. But I’m over that, now. It’s not easy, I still doubt a lot. But you’re here, aren’t you. You could’ve left. So many times. Do you want to?”
“No.” The reply is breathless, quick, easy. True.
The space between them is closed easily as their lips meet, saying so much they don’t know how to word. They’re both scared, because loving someone means hearts can get broken. Being alive means being able to die. Being open means being vulnerable. Starting something means it can end. Continuing something means it can go different ways.
But Simon is light and Baz needs the light. Baz needs to let go and fly, he needs to meet Simon, waiting for him in the open sky, to take the leap and both walk into the light. To live. To be. Alive. Golden.