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Simon was asleep, or well, he really wanted to be asleep. So, he burrowed his face into his pillow and squeezed his eyes closed tighter. If he kept his eyes closed, then he was still asleep, and he did not have to go meet with the Mage about his poor grades. If he was still asleep, then that failing grade was still just a nightmare and not something that actually happened. If he was still asleep, then he wouldn't have to face Penelope after another failed studying session. He didn't understand why, like his magic, everything he studied slipped out of him like smoke. Up until the test, he could answer any of the questions Penelope threw at him, but when it came to the tests, even though he could swear he knew the answers, his mind was blank, except for the overwhelming panic and self-hatred.
No, don't think about that, Simon. Just go back to sleep. If you're asleep, it doesn't have to be real.
Simon preferred not to think, because thinking led him to dark places in his own mind, places he wasn't sure how to escape on his own. He simply slammed the door shut on those places and locked it, not letting himself wander there. Because once there, everything was dark and energy was hard to come by. He didn't want to worry Penelope or Agatha, so he simply did not think. Therefore, he never entered those dark places. At least during the school year. His summers at the care homes were a different story, but neither Agatha or Penelope needed to know what happened there. And with their most recent breakup, Simon wasn't sure if Agatha wanted to.
The bed Simon was in was so incredibly soft (his sheets usually felt grittier than this) and the body next to him was just so cool (it cooled down Simon's body, which was always overheating), that he just didn't want to wake up. He could sleep here forever. Stay next to whoever this was forever. Simon always ran hot, often waking up drenched in sweat and uncomfortable. It was why he wanted to leave the window open, even when the temperature outside was below freezing, maybe even especially when the temperature was below freezing, but his stupid vampire roommate wouldn't let him.
Simon sat up quickly, heart pounding. He couldn't really remember last night well, but he didn't normally wake up next to anyone. He heard someone shift and groan next to him. Simon stared at the door of his room. He was in Mummers. He was in his room, but this was not his bed. He refused to glance to the side, both dreading and wanting Baz to be there.
His question was answered shortly when Baz grouchily said, "Snow, lay back down. It's not time to be up."
"Baz," Simon said, eyes still on the door. This was bad. This was really bad. Had the Mage come in? No, surely not. Simon may sleep like the dead, but ironically, Baz was a very light sleeper. He would know if the Mage had come in, but if the Mage had seen them in the same bed, he would pull Simon from Watford faster than... anything. He would lock Simon away somewhere to personally train, and despite being the Mage's heir, it felt like Simon's worst nightmare. His breathing picked up again. The Mage could not know, could never know. Simon had to get up and go visit him. The Mage had said whenever he first woke up and Simon was very awake. "Baz."
"It's Saturday," Baz said, not opening his eyes. "Go back to sleep."
"I have to see the Mage," Simon said.
"He can wait."
"No, he can't. He's the Mage!"
Baz groaned, and his eyes finally opened, but only to glare up at Simon. This was familiar, and it eased the tightness in Simon's chest. Simon could handle Baz glaring; he wasn't sure how to handle Baz cuddling him.
"What could he possibly want first thing Saturday morning?" Baz asked, "It better not be another mission."
Is that where he was last night? A mission? He didn't remember being on a mission, but his head felt a tad achy, so maybe he had hit his head and someone, probably Penelope healed him. The Mage probably didn't but if it was bad enough...
"Why are am I in your bed?" Simon asked.
"I don't know, Snow," Baz said, eyes on the ceiling. "You came back from some mission. You looked like you got hit by a truck."
"The Mage didn't heal me.”
"No, I did. You had a concussion, and I was planning on monitoring it, because I wasn't sure the healing spell got rid of it, but you refused to lay down, so I had to pin you to the bed, and I guess I fell asleep at some point."
"You healed me?"
"I just said that."
"Thank you.”
"Don't thank me. The nurse wasn't in her office, because it was two am. Could you come back at reasonable hours, Snow?"
"I don't really get to decide that."
"Snow." Baz sighed. "Just get back in bed."
"I have to go see the Mage," Simon said, finally moving so that his feet dangle over the edge. He should stand up and get dressed and go to the Mage's office, where he will be berated and screamed at and called all kind of names, just to come back here where Baz would call him stupid and the worst chosen one to ever be chosen. And Simon would have to bite back and lock that door to the dark thoughts so that Baz didn't know that the things he said actually bothered him. He would probably get fussed at for the mission he couldn't remember, even if it was a success because he either went off or used his sword when the Mage wanted him to use actual magic, and if he did use magic, the spell didn't work like it was supposed to, because Simon's magic never did what it was supposed to, just like Simon. His magic and he were both failures that disappointed everyone.
"You never answered my question about that," Baz said, sitting up.
Simon hadn't stood up yet, feeling weighed down by the thoughts he tried to shut away. They were harder now for some reason. He was tired, but not physically. If he tried to sleep, he wouldn't. It was more metaphorically, or tired in his brain, in his whole being, like he was mentally tired and it made him physically tired, but not sleepy tired. Simon wasn't even sure if he knew what tired meant anymore. Or if he could explain what it meant to him right now. He never did answer that question, because he would have to admit to his perfect roommate that he failed another test, that his mentor knew he failed another test, and that he would yell at him for being so stupid and worthless and broken. The Mage had called him broken after the mission before this one, and Simon wasn't sure if he knew what to do with that. He certainly felt broken, but it didn't seem like the Mage was even trying to fix him. Maybe he couldn't be fixed.
Baz huffed behind him, and Simon could feel his gaze burning against his back. "I-I failed the last test we had."
His roommate behind him was quiet for a second. "Okay? And why does the Mage need to talk to you about that? I get you're his heir, but surely that can wait for a normal time. After lunch maybe?”
"He said as soon as I wake up."
"What if he isn't even up yet?"
"Then I'll wait outside his office."
"What does that do? He could just set up a normal time."
"It's about proving I can listen to him since I fail at everything else!"
"You do not."
"I do too."
"You do not!"
"Do too."
“Do not."
"Baz, come on. I'm giving you the taunts. Just get it over with so I can go about my morning. I have to go speak to the Mage, who is only going to reiterate how broken I am and that he doesn't know how, or maybe doesn't care, to fix me. And then come here and hope that you're not in the room, so I can cry my eyes out and then go back to pretending I'm fine, because I'm the Chosen One and I'm supposed to be better than this, and I'm not. But I also can't be anything but okay because everyone needs me to defeat the Insidious Humdrum, and I'm probably going to die, because my magic doesn't work right, and it's all my fault if I don't defeat it, but I never asked for this." Simon's vision went blurry, and he whispered, "I never asked for this."
Baz was quiet again, and Simon tried to fight back the tears, but just like that stupid test, he failed. They burned hot as they slid down his face, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He just wanted to lay down and pretend he was asleep and maybe never wake up. "No, you didn't ask for this, and it's not fair." Simon's eyes squeezed shut as more tears slipped out. "I know it's not fair, Simon, and the Mage isn't being fair to you either."
Simon bit back a sob as he whispered, "He has to be hard on me. I'm not good enough on my own."
"You don't need him," Baz said. Simon opened his mouth to argue. "No, Simon, you don't need him. You, Bunce, Wellbelove, you can figure it out on your own. It doesn't seem like he does much to help you anyways, considering that this isn't the first time I've had to heal your injuries, and if I'm not, then Bunce is."
"How do you--?"
"I've been watching you for a while now. You're just too oblivious to notice."
Simon blinked, his vision was still blurry, but the darkness in him seemed to have faded for a second, as his brain tried to process what Baz was saying. "The Mage can't show favoritism.”
"Of course not, but he already does," Baz said, "No one else can miss so many days of school or accidentally explode so many buildings or in general. No one else has to go sit outside his office, waiting for him to pay attention to them, for a chat he wanted to have."
"Are you trying to make me feel better?" Simon asked, swiping at his eyes roughly. Baz reached around Simon's side to grab his hand gently. His cold hand wrapped loosely around Simon's wrist. In doing so, he leaned enough that Simon could see his face from the corner of his eyes. Simon stared at the wall in front of him, once again trying not to think. Thinking led him to bad places, led him to spilling some of his darkest secrets to his enemy, to a teen he was probably going to be killed by in the future. Simon had seen Baz practice magic. It would be a miracle if he survived more than thirty seconds against him. "What are you plotting?”
It was a stretch, an attempt at getting back on even footing, familiar ground. Baz was not gentle with him. Baz did not stare at him with soft eyes and a gentle frown. It should be narrowed eyes, curled lip, and tense shoulders.
"I'm not plotting, Snow," Baz said, eyes rolling, "And I am trying to make you feel better. But you interrupted."
"I need to go."
"No."
Simon blinked. "No?”
"You're staying here, and you're resting. You were just healed from a concussion. You don't need to be going anywhere. And you certainly don't need to be yelled at while you are still injured.”
"You healed me," Simon said, "I am no longer injured.”
"While I appreciate your faith in my magical abilities, I am not a doctor," Baz said, "Besides, the Mage would probably expel me for daring to use magic on his precious heir, so what he doesn't know doesn't hurt him."
"He'll be mad."
"I know. That's why me healing you is a secret, Snow. Can you keep it?"
"I keep a lot of secrets from him."
"Name one."
"I don't want to be your enemy."
"What?”
"He told me first year that we were going to be enemies because your family is one of the Old Families, and because of that, we couldn't be friends. But I want to be your friend, and I did back then. I tried to ignore him, but you seemed to hate me on principle, so I gave up. And let him think he won."
"Can you keep another one?"
"Sure.”
Baz shifted behind him, so that Simon was sitting between Baz's legs. His silk pajamas looked oddly perfect next to Simon's ratty sweatpants. His arms wrapped around Simon's ribcage, and he lightly tugged so that Simon was leaning against his chest. Baz's chin hooked over Simon's shoulder. Simon's hands rested on top of Baz's, and it should feel weird. They were enemies, and enemies didn't cuddle. But it felt nice. Simon felt safe, and the darkness faded further into his mind, enough that he could lock the door again. His eyes fluttered closed, and his head tilted back and to the side to lean against Baz's.
"I love you," Baz said.
Simon's eyes opened. "No one loves me."
"That's not true, Snow, and even you can't possibly be so dense to believe that."
"They love the Chosen One.”
"Yeah, well, I've already told you that you're the worst Chosen One to have ever been chosen." Normally, that would hurt, but there was a teasing lilt to Baz's voice, as well as a sort of sincerity. "I love you because you're Simon. You could be a Normal, and I'd still love you.”
Simon laughed. "You wouldn't have met me if I was Normal."
Baz kissed Simon's neck, and it was just then that Simon noticed that his cross necklace was missing. He must have lost it during his mission, but he also found himself not afraid. He didn't think Baz would bite him, and not even just because of the Anathema. "That is probably true." Baz hummed, pressing another kiss to Simon's neck. "I have loved you since Fifth Year, and I thought I could never tell you so.”
"What made you tell me now?" Simon asked, whispering, eyes closing again of their own accord.
"You."
"Me?”
"You needed to hear it," Baz whispered, "You sounded so broken and so... tired. And I wanted you to feel better. Maybe knowing I love you is not enough, or maybe you'd rather not know, but I do. I love you so much, and I only want to see you smile, even if it's not at me. Your happiness is more important to me than anything else."
"The Mage will take me away if he sees us like this.”
"I will come find you." Baz pressed another kiss into Simon's neck, and he shivered, both from the kiss and the words. "I won't let him take you from me.”
"Promise?"
"I promise," Baz said, "Now come to bed, Simon. It's too early to speak to the Mage."
"Okay.”