u perfect monster

The Witching Hour

Okay this is a fanfic I came up with based on a prompt that I made up that is “Drunken 2am thoughts”. IDC if anyone else wants to use that for a prompt thing, but ye I’m writing a, you guessed it, Snowbaz fanfic. :-)

This is a little spooky bc u know….. halloween….

Let’s see how this goes….

——–

It was 2am. 2am, a magical time. “The Witching Hour,” as some call it. A time where you could sit alone, let the darkness lull you into a soft trance. A time where the only sounds are your steady breathing in the empty room. A time where monsters lurk, creating fantasies out of shadows of the past. A time where you’re mind twists things such as a small sound, or a flash of a memory. A time that consumes some, leading them down dark, twisted allies until they can’t find their way back. 

Not all of us experience the horrors of these nights. Some are asleep before it starts. Some, it grazes over, leaving nothing but a small shake of a head to rid themselves of it. But for some, it slips in silently, reaches ever so close, whispering it’s secrets, driving some mad with worry. Unfortunately, Simon happened to be one of these poor souls on this cold and sleepless night. 

Baz came back into the room four hours ago. He slipped in like he always did. Silently and gracefully, pulling himself into his bed without so much as a crinkle of the sheets. Simon closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, but watching him through his half lidded eyes. Baz was staring straight back at him, completely unaware that Simon was still awake. They stayed like that for at least another two hours or so, then Baz closed his eyes and drifted off.

Simon let himself fully open his eyes. He could hardly see because of the pitch darkness that surrounded him like a thick bucket of paint, but he could make out Baz’s features somehow in the darkness. His hair blending into his surroundings with its inky blackness. His face looking like it was carved out of marble from an expert sculptor. His long, thin, violinist fingers clutching the pristine white pillow, rumpling it. There was something elegant about Baz, but at the same time, it was demonic. Like when something seems too good to be true and you know it’s all some twisted lie. 

That’s why I hate him, Simon thinks to himself. He frowns in disgust and a bronze curl falls in front of his eyes. He mindlessly pushes it back and stares at Baz, wondering what kind of plotting goes on in that head of his. He then notices the small smile curling on Baz’s lips. It’s not like his smirk. It doesn’t seem cruel or twisted. It seems happy. Probably dreaming about when he finally sinks his fangs into my neck, Simon thinks to himself.

The clock on his bedside table clicks, and clicks, and clicks. Simon takes turns staring at Baz, and then at the ceiling, trying to figure out a way to fall asleep. Soon, the time passes until it’s almost 2am. 1:59 to be exact. Then, one loud, sharp tick rings through the air. 2am, on the dot. A stillness settles in the air that wasn’t there before. Simon no longer hears the quiet, steady breathing of Baz. All there is is his breath and the loud beating of his heart. The rain seems to pound harder, to the beat of his racing heart. The air gets cooler, causing small goosebumps to dot Simon’s skin. He pulls up the covers tightly around himself to try and block out the cold, and turns back to Baz.

An almost shadow like figure creeps behind Simon. It eyes him like it’s next meal, which he pretty much is. It lays a long, withered hand on Simon’s shoulder, causing him to shudder. The figure leans close to Simon, so it’s face is right next to Simon’s ear. It latches onto every memory clinging to Simon’s brain, searching for something in between girls with blonde hair and tall boys with slicked back black hair and grey eyes.

He looks so vulnerable when he sleeps, the silhouette whispers. Simon cocks his head. His secrets seem to gush out from him, don’t they, Simon looks closer, seeing the happy bliss on Baz falling on his face. His lips seem to mouth words that don’t make a sound. Huh. That’s funny. They seem to be saying “Simon”. 

It’s really beautiful when his hair hangs around his face like that. The shadow feels Simon’s shoulders tense, then relaxes in a sort of happy fondness. Interesting. 

I wonder what it would feel like to run my hands through his hair. The shadow feeds the thoughts to Simon with a slight push forward. Simon reaches out, as if to touch Baz’s hair. Then pulls his hands back suddenly, his guard back up. The shadow tries to break the walls again.

I wish I saw his smile more often. It’s really magical. Simon lets out a dreamy sigh. I wish I made him smile like that. A feeling wrenches in his stomach that he can’t quite explain. The shadow finds pleasure making the boy’s gut twist in a feeling that’s part of a whole new world. 

Aleister Crowley, his lips are perfectly shaped, the shadow pushes again. So perfect. I bet it’d be a miracle to kiss them. Simon stiffens as if the thought surprised him.

“What the hell?” he whispers into the room.

C’mon Simon. It’s not like you haven’t thought of it before. Simon tries to push the thought out of his head. The shadow grips tighter. Simon flashes back to all the times he pinned Baz to a wall after a particularly nasty fight. How his eyes always searched Baz’s for any sign of weakness, anything that told him to stop. Any emotion. And then his eyes drifted to Baz’s perfectly shaped lips curved into a sneer, begging Simon to do his worst. Simon remembered feeling Baz’s warm breath on his neck and how it made his body tingle in an emotion he couldn’t quite identify. He remembered the way he always looked for Baz first. 

No, Simon thinks.

But… what if–

NO!

But what about this–

I. Am not. In love. With Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

Snow-Pitch does sound lovely, doesn’t it?

AGH!

Simon and Baz Snow-Pitch. Has a nice ring to it.

Just–

I bet he’s really muscular underneath that shirt. What would it be like to run my–

STOP!

I should corner him. I should kiss him. I should ask him why he mouths my name in his sleep…..

NO NO NO NO NO!! HE’S THE ENEMY!

Aw he’s doing a happy little sigh. He’s so hot.

I–I–I–

I am in love with Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.

I am in love with Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. My enemy. My roommate. A boy. A boy. 

I am in love with Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. 

The shadow’s work was done. It removed it’s hands and left the poor boy to sort out the mess of emotions swirling around him like a tornado. He clutched his head as if it would explode if he didn’t. A battle was raging inside him, and the wrong team was winning. 

…..

The next morning, Simon could barely Baz’s eyes. The grey eyes like the silver buttons on his coat. The grey eyes like the weather just before a storm. The grey eyes that where the perfect balance for his stunning blue. He was the rain to his sky. He was the calm to his fire. No no no no NO! Stop it Simon! 

Baz noticed Simon’s strange behaviour. He was beating himself up more than usual, looking around like a lost puppy. He hardly paid attention to Bunce during breakfast. Something happened, Baz thinks to himself. And he was going to figure out what.

When Simon walked into the room, Baz took no time into pushing him against the wall, causing Simon to bang his head painfully. His eyes looked equally as painful. Both of their hearts started to leap into their throats as they realized how close they where. Close enough to kiss, they both thought in unison. They looked into each other’s eyes, sky on a spring day between them.

“What are you doing, Baz?” Simon asks, trying to act like his usual self. Before he found out–NO!

I would ask you the same thing, Snow,” Baz says in his usual tone. He notices Simon look at his lips as he forms the word “Snow”. Baz is so glad he hasn’t had enough blood to blush, otherwise he would’ve resembled a tomato. 

Simon,” Simon says.

“What?”

“Call me Simon.”

“And why the hell would I do that, Snow?”

“Because…. because….” Simon only sees one option. He never had a relationship with Baz to risk anyway, right? Surely this couldn’t hurt….

Plus, Simon was curious. And a lovestruck curious boy drunk on 2am thoughts is a dangerous thing.

Simon reached and put his hands on Baz’s chest. Baz thought that Simon was going to shove him off, but he was surprised when the golden fingers clenched on the fabric of Baz’s shirt, and instead of pushing him away, clutched him closer. 

“Simon what–” Baz never finishes. How could he when a dream is playing in reality. Simon kisses him fiercely with so much passion, Baz isn’t sure he’s isn’t dreaming it. He closes his eyes and tentatively hovers his hands over Simon’s waist. Simon releases Baz’s shirt, not breaking contact, and presses Baz’s hands to his hips. Baz is shocked by the sudden movement, but clutches Simon tighter anyway, letting his lips work against Simon’s. He lets his hands slip under his shirt and trail over his back, feeling new curves he never seen before. 

Simon slides his hands through Baz’s hair, drinking Baz in. His hair is soft, he smells like Earl Grey tea, and Simon loves it. He loves the fiery wisps that Baz trails on his skin with every new kiss and touch. He loves how the both dive in after taking a bit of air. He loves feeling Baz’s smooth, marble-like cheeks under his hands. He practically melts when he lets his hands slip under Baz’s shirt. 

That’s when they realized they are both hopelessly in love with each other. 

The Witching Hour really was a magical time. 

140813 - Twitter - Rap Monster

랩몬입니다. 문득문득, 편지들을 읽다보면 여러분도 나도 다 똑같은 인간이라는 걸 실감해요. 일련의 모습에 가려져 물론 나도 스스로를 다 내보이진 못하지만, 결국 같이 울고 웃고 작은 것에 기뻐하고 열광하며 슬퍼하는ㅡ 그런 다 똑같은 소박한 사람들.

This is Rapmon. From time to time while reading letters I realize that you’re all same people like me. Although I haven't been able to show all of myself due to being split in a series of sides, we all cry and laugh together and get happy at small things and be enthusiastic and sad. The same simple people. 

정신없이 앞만 보면서 하루의 끝에 끝에 매달려있다 보면 중요한 사실들을 까먹곤 하지요. 그것들을 여러분의 글씨를 보면서 다시 생각하고, 그럼 아 나 되게 사랑받고 있구나 행복하기도 하고 참 그래요.

While I look mindlessly towards the front and hang onto the end of each day, there are times where I forget the important truths. I rethink those things while looking at everyone’s words, and think that “Ah I’m receiving a lot of love” and I feel happy.

아무튼 저도 방탄도 여러분이 생각하는 거보다 많이 감사해하고 또 마음을 쓰고 있답니다. 가끔은 음악 말고 이런 소통도 괜찮지 않나 싶어 잠들기 전 몇 자 적습니다. 새삼스럽게. 여러분의 행복을 바랍니다. 늘 고마워요!

Anyways, me and Bangtan also are more thankful and care more than you all think we do. Sometimes I think that it’s good to converse like this too, so I’m writing a few words before I go to sleep. All of a sudden. I hope for everyone’s happiness. I’m always thankful!

Trans cr; Hyejin @ bts-trans 
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