“Great,” I mutter as I walk into our room and see Simon on his bed, “You couldn’t have been out saving the world or getting killed or something?”
Simon barely even glances at me. But he whispers something that sounds strangely like “I wish” before rolling over on his bed, away from me. I pause. Simon is always up for a fight. Something’s got to be wrong. I’m tempted to ignore him and just go to my desk, enjoy some quiet and try to get homework done. I should be doing that. That’s what everyone would expect me to do. I walk towards my desk and sit down.
After ten minutes I can’t stand the silence. It’s growing bigger and bigger in the small room, a buzzing annoyance. Simon’s never this quiet. No matter what he’s doing, he does it loudly. Eating, sleeping, talking. Everything. But now he’s barely making any noise. Even his breathing seems quieter than usual.
I finally spin around, frustrated and fed up and stand up, “What in Crowley’s name is wrong with you?” I say. Simon looks up at me, his expression gloomy and his eyes dull.
“What do you care?” he asks with venom. Venom I know isn’t just aimed at me today. Simon’s mad at the whole world and I can’t help myself, I want to know why. I cautiously walk closer to him, making sure he’s not going to suddenly pull out his sword and attack me. I wouldn’t put it past him, even with the Roommate’s Anathema. If anyone could find a way around that it would be Simon, probably by sheer luck though. I sit at the edge of his bed and he glances at me, curiosity breaking through the fog of sheer misery in his eyes.
“No really,” I say, quieter, gentler, “what’s wrong?”
He pushes himself up, looking suspiciously at me and I realize how close we are. I can feel the heat from his skin and his arm brushes mine as he shifts over to sit next to me, his socked feet hanging off the bed next to mine. My breath quickens.
“I just-” he fiddles with the blanket between his fingers, “ I’m lonely I guess. I mean, no one wants to be friends with me. Sure I have Penny and Agatha, but Penny has Micah and she’s always busy with him and Agatha broke up with me, which you’ve probably heard by now. And I know I’m shitty at magic and probably a danger to be around most of the time. Maybe I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be anywhere. I’m not safe for anyone and I’m alone and there’s nothing I can do about it. Hell, even my roommate hates me and I have no idea why.” His sad eyes lock with mine. “why do you hate me? Really, i want to know, am I that awful to be around?”
I open my mouth. Then close it again. I swallow. “Do you really want to know? Do you really want to know why I hate you so much?”
He nods and I shuffle closer, turning so I’m facing him, while he’s still gazing towards the window. “Well,” I whisper, “the first thing I hate about you is your eyes. They’re so blue, you see. There’s no possible way to describe them besides blue. Writing poetry about them is impossible.”
He turns to me in confusion but before he can interrupt I force myself to continue.
“And then there’s your hair. It’s always a mess, and it drives me insane because I just want to run my fingers through it. And that you smell like cinnamon and smoke. And your moles, Crowley I could spend days telling you how much I hate your moles. Simon, you’re covered in constellations and I want to trace them all. It drives me crazy.”
“Baz-” he starts, “If- if you’re joking this isn’t funny.”
I move my hand to his cheek and suppress a smile when he starts to lean into it.
“ And I hate your stubbornness.” I move my face closer to his, “and the way you fight for what you believe in, and how you talk with your hands more than your mouth, and the way you smile and how you can’t seem to do anything quietly. And Simon,” our noses brush and I press my forehead against his. “I hate that I’m not joking. I hate that-” I swallow and stare at his eyes. His blue eyes which are now shining bright like they should be.
“I hate that I love you Simon, so so much.”
His lips press against mine, gentle and unsure, and careful in a way I didn’t know Simon could be. And Crowley if it doesn’t make me love him more. He pulls away slowly, eyelashes fluttering. But he keeps his hand curled around my neck and I finally, finally allow myself to smile. He smiles back, maybe a little unsure, but he smiles. Crowley it’s beautiful. It’s like the sun coming out from behind clouds.