Chapter Text
“Don’t you have something you need to tell me, Baz?” Simon raised his brow, lip curling along with it. “A secret, perhaps relating to why you spend so much time alone?”
Baz stood across from him now, school uniform slightly askew due to the kerfuffle they’d just had, but nobody was hurt. The consequences far outweighed the gain; that anathema was no joke.
lit lo“Whatever do you mean, dear roommate?” Baz asked innocently, tilting his head to one side with a taunting smile. Simon knew better than to believe that.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Simon scoffed, eyes burning into Baz's.
Dark, soulless eyes; sleek, black hair; pale skin; colorless cheeks; a youthful, almost unnatural glow to them.
Simon had his suspicions for a while, but he was never able to fully confirm it. Fruitless nights stalking Baz in the catacombs, exhausting lunches spent debating with Penelope about his theory, which she was so adamantly skeptical of, and days where he watched how Baz reacted to sunlight.
All for naught; not once had Baz slipped up. Not once had Baz reacted when a drop of blood had been spilled, and not once had Simon caught Baz spilling blood to feed his own desires.
He was starting to believe that maybe Baz was just a human after all, but how would that be possible?
How could he never eat food yet still look so healthy? That’s inhuman, impossible, and the only reason Simon had left to believe Baz was a vampire.
Hope was at an all-time low, but that didn’t matter anymore. Not when Baz had such a nervous expression on his face; a sheen of sweat coating his forehead, a slight quiver in his lip, a crease between his brows.
Simon had done it; he’d backed Baz into a corner. Finally!
Baz sighed, lowered his head, and put both his hands up as if he were being arrested. “You caught me,” he admitted, and a smile split Simon’s face.
He’d done it. He’d really done it… or so he thought.
Just as he started thinking of how he’d tell The Mage, simply forming the sentence in his head, Baz said something Simon never could’ve expected.
“Truth is, I’m… gay.”
“Aha! I knew—wait,” Simon felt his heart stop. “You’re what?!”
“I’m gay,” Baz said casually with an ever-so slight shrug of his shoulders. "That’s why I spend so much time alone, I don’t want anyone finding out. You’re the first person I’ve told, actually.”
“Oh, um…”
Simon's eyes scanned Baz's well-groomed, well-dressed figure and paused. Huh, Baz being gay made… a concerning amount of sense. Not to be one with the stereotypes, but now that he knew, it was kinda… obvious.
His eyes trailed back up his figure to his face, where he was met with a cocky smirk, a playful look in the eyes, and a quirked brow. Put them all together, and he got an expression. One that said Ha, I got you! in the most rub-it-in-your-face way.
Simon backtracked; maybe Baz being gay made too much sense.
This is a trap! You're lying, Simon nearly said, but managed to bite his lip just at the right time. He couldn’t say that, wouldn’t it be… invalidating Baz’s sexual identity, or something along those lines?
He really wasn't good at this LGBT stuff, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to say something like that. No matter how much he wanted Baz to admit he was a vampire, it wouldn’t be right.
On that note, he hadn’t prepared for this. He’d prepared to run to The Mage and snitch that Baz was secretly a vampire, which definitely would’ve been easier than this. He never had anyone come out to him before, much less in a situation like this, where he was expecting Baz to admit he was a blood-sucking monster.
And now he was stuck looking like an absolute jerk, standing speechless and slack-jawed at someone who’d practically just told their second deepest, darkest secret; the first being the fact that he was a vampire, which Simon still very much believed in.
He wouldn’t mind cursing Baz out for being a vampire, but for being gay? That was just downright homophobic, which Simon wasn’t. He was just… indifferent and uninformed. It wasn’t his fault that nobody had prepared him for this situation—
“Oh, you don’t have to say anything,” Baz, as if reading his mind, said reassuringly with an oddly pleasant smile on his face. “I’m just glad to have gotten it off my chest. It feels good to say it aloud.”
Simon swallowed, running a hand through his hair while his brain scrambled to come up with a reply.
“Well, um… congratulations…?”
"Simon!" Penelope exclaims, loudly slamming the table with her fist while using her other hand to punch the bridge of her nose. "That is not what you say to someone who's just come out to you."
"W-Well, what else was I supposed to say?! Nobody told me how to—"
"And!" Penelope interrupted with another bang of her fist. "Are you even supposed to be telling me this?!"
Simon pauses, then laughs softly. "What do you mean? I tell you everything."
"So Baz comes out to you, explicitly says that you're the only one he's told, and you do what?" Penelope sighs, folding her arms across her chest. "You come straight to me and spill the beans."
"I… don't see the problem," Simon shrugs. "Like I said, I tell you everything."
Penelope sighs, lowering her head and pinching the bridge for the nth time in the last ten minutes. "You know, Simon, there are some things you shouldn't tell anybody. Even me."
"I don't get it," Simon cocks his head incredulously. "Don't you like knowing everything? Shouldn't you be happy that I—"
"Imagine if I told Baz something you only told me. How would you feel?"
"That isn't—"
"He said that you were the first person he's ever told!" Penelope exclaims exasperatedly. "He trusted you enough to tell you!"
"It wasn't like that! He just blurted it out because I kept pressing him to admit he was a vam—…"
Oh, Simon pauses. He looks to Penelope, only to be met with her infuriating I told you so expression that he's seen one too many times.
He sighs, an indescribably sour feeling growing inside of him. "I'm such an asshole."
"You are," Penelope huffs without missing a beat. "First, you say Congratulations! to someone who just came out for the first time. Then, you proceed to tell me all about it like it's just another scoop of gossip you happened to hear in the halls!"
"I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize to me! Apologize to Baz!"
"I will! I will," Simon holds out his pinky across the table. "Promise."
Penelope smacks his hand away, her brows furrowing so deeply that Simon fears she'll develop a wrinkle right then and there. "That's not enough! You have to make it up to him!"
Simon soothes the skin where Penelope had slapped him, finding that it's turned red and feels horribly tingly. He scoffs, eyes flicking over to Penelope. "How?! What am I supposed to do?!"
She pauses, as if realizing that she, too, doesn't know what he's supposed to do, before snapping her fingers for an Aha! moment in the next second. At least one of them's a quick thinker.
"It's almost Pride Month! You should gift him something," she hums. "A skincare set or… or a pin! Yes! That's much easier."
"A safety pin? Wouldn't that be kinda weird—"
"Not a safety pin, idiot! A button pin," she corrects, her expression quickly turns deadpanned at the sight of Simon's confusion. She groans, grabs the bag at her side, and points at a circular piece on its flap.
It's purple, has a ginger cat wearing a pink collar on it, and the words I'm feline fine! lining the top, accompanied by sparkles and a fancy font. "This is a button pin. You're meant to wear it around on your bag!" A cocky smirk tugs at her lips. "Isn't mine cute?"
"Yeah, very," Simon nods, keeping his sarcastic tone at a moderate level so as not to be found out; he isn't sure if he can handle another scolding. "But isn't it useless?"
The prideful expression fades from Penelope's face and is quickly replaced by a seething, manic rage. Simon kicks himself; he just said he couldn't handle another scolding! And why was Penelope even mad? He hadn't said anything to insult her!
"Are you calling my button pin useless?" she gawks, holding her bag close to her chest as if she were clutching her pearls. "How dare you!"
"N-No! You misunderstand," Simon raises his hands to calm the dragon, and it works for long enough for him to explain himself. "I meant for Baz!"
Her anger falters for long enough for Simon to think he's out of the woods, but he's stupid for thinking that. "Hah?! You ask me for advice, then call my idea stupid?! How shameless do you have to be—"
"If he's trying to hide the fact that he's gay," Simon says loudly, perhaps too loudly, but it's what's necessary to get Penelope to shut up. Now that he's got her attention, he lowers his voice as he continues. "Why would he wear the button pin around?"
"That's—" Penelope jumps to argue, then she stops herself. "That's a good point."
"Ugh!" Simon presses his face against the table, just narrowly missing his plate of toast topped with a heinous amount of butter. "What am I supposed to do? Get him a card?"
"That's not half bad," Penelope nods reluctantly. "You should do that."
"What kind of card, though? Like what should it say?"
Penelope gives another stellar deadpanned expression before sighing. "You do realize that you're the one giving the card, right? Not me? Shouldn't you be asking yourself what it should say?"
Simon pouts, rolling his head to the side so it isn't his forehead pressed against the table, and instead his cheek. "C'mon, Penny. You know I'm bad at this stuff. Help me out just this once, please?"
He looks up at her pleadingly, softening his brows to live the puppy dog-eyed look to the fullest, and it seems to work as another sigh escaped Penelope's mouth.
"One that says I'm sorry for reacting like that when you came out and telling Penelope about it, even though you said I was the only one you've ever told, Happy Pride Month!"
Simon springs up in his seat, head reeling at the sheer length of what Penelope had said, and the speed at which she'd said it didn't help either. "How on earth am I gonna find a card like that…?!"
"I don't know," she shrugs, taking a bite of her food as if she hadn't just bestowed Simon with the hardest task on earth. "Why don't you… make one yourself?"
Huh. He hadn't thought of that.
"Thanks, Penny," he says with a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm glad I told you."
Huh. He didn't know slaps could hurt so much.
"Don't say that in your letter, got it?!"
"I won't! I won't," Simon exclaims quickly. "But, uh, when is Pride Month again? And what is it, exactly…?"
Penelope sighs, pinches her nose again, and looks up at Simon with the deadliest expression he's ever seen on her. "Do you even know what being gay means?"
"Baz!" Simon calls as he enters his dorm, only to jump back when his eyes meet Baz's sharp ones. Narrowed to slits, staring skeptically at his entire figure. "Baz! You're here."
"Yes, I'm here. Is that so surprising?" Baz's eyes flick back to the book lying on his lap. "This is my dorm too, y'know."
"No! I just meant that, um," Simon smiles sheepishly. "You weren't here a while ago, so I went out looking for you, yet here you are…"
"Get to the point, Simon," Baz sighs. "Why are you looking for me? What do you want?"
"I, uh…" Simon takes a deep breath, fidgeting with the waxy texture of the paper behind his back. "Wanted to apologize."
Baz snorts. "For being such a prick? It's about time."
"I'm trying to be serious here!" Simon exclaims, flustered. Apologizing to his arch nemesis is hard enough, and his comments are only making things more embarrassing.
Thankfully, Baz seems to take the hint. But he doesn't spare Simon the embarrassment because, of course, he doesn't. His lips curl into a teasing smirk, one that makes Simon's heart jump in his chest, and he feigns zipping his lips shut.
The smirk stays, obviously, and so does the excruciatingly sweaty feeling in Simon's palms. He silently curses Penelope for putting him in this spot, but he was far too deep to back out now.
"I'm… sorry for reacting like that when you came out to me," Simon says in one breath, a pained expression on his face. "It was inappropriate and inconsiderate of me, but seriously, what else was I supposed to say?! I've never had anyone—"
He stops himself before his apology can fully turn into an excuse, and Baz's amused expression says that he definitely noticed. Raised brows and a somehow even more smug smirk on his lips.
"Sorry," Simon says quietly. Curse Penelope.
"Is that all you have to say?" Baz scoffs. "It's not even that big of a deal."
"No! No, I, uh," get it together, Simon. "I also told Penelope about it… I'm so sorry! I didn't realize it was an invasion of privacy." Simon blurts out, his eyes sliding shut as he braces for a scolding.
It, surprisingly, never comes.
"I… frankly don't care."
"Huh?" Simon opens his eyes to be met with Baz's bored expression. "You don't?"
Baz snorts, clearly amused at Simon's well-warranted surprise. "Who's she gonna tell other than you?"
"What about Agatha?"
"I don't—" Baz cuts himself off, a thoughtful look passing on his face. "It'd be better if she told Agatha, actually. Maybe then she'd finally back off."
"Back off? What is that supposed to mean—"
"Anyway," Baz says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Apology accepted. You don't have to look so pained anymore."
"I don't look pained!" Simon retorts, though he knows it's probably a lie. Apologizing to Baz, with his infuriating personality, is never a joy. And it never will be.
"Is that all you have to say?" Baz raises his voice slightly, slamming his book shut loud enough to make Simon flinch. "If so, then you can leave now."
'You can leave now'? What am I, a butler?!
Simon pauses, refrains from crumpling the suddenly worthless piece of folded card stock behind his back, and takes a deep, deep breath.
No matter how infuriating Baz is, he is determined not to let his effort go to waste.
"I, um, made something for you," Simon approaches Baz's bed slowly, palms sweating under Baz's skeptical glare. He quietly, hesitantly, pulls the card out from behind his back. "To say sorry."
Baz's eyes glance at the card briefly before flicking to look up at Simon through thick, silky lashes. Suddenly, Simon feels like a child again. With a silly, childish, hand-drawn card in his hands. He never had parents to give to, but the caretakers in the orphanage were close enough.
Despite the disdainful look on his face, Baz silently takes the card and flips it open. "What is it, exactly?"
Simon stops himself from cocking his head bewilderedly and calling Baz stupid. The card's practically covered in rainbows! It says "Happy Pride Month" on the front! And the inside, which Baz is looking at right now, is a very heartfelt letter Simon spent an entire night tossing and turning about because the mere thought of writing it made him sick.
But he got through it, and all for naught, it seems. Because Baz apparently can't even tell what it is!
"A card," Simon says through gritted teeth.
"Ah."
Ah…? Is that all he has to say? Seriously?
Simon takes another deep breath and steels himself to bring an end to this awkward, pointless interaction, which he wishes he had never had. He needs to have a word with Penelope after this.
"So, yeah… I'm sorry for everything I said. I hope it didn't offend you in any way," Simon decidedly keeps his eyes on the floor because it's easier that way. "Happy Pride Month."
"Thanks, you too," Baz says, his voice as hollow and empty as it is when he says something sarcastic. Simon bets he has that bored look on his face again, but he can't know for sure. His nose is stuck to the card as if he's trying to smell it.
Simon can't believe it. He went through all this effort for nothing! Not even an ounce of genuine appreciation!
But, as much as he wants to cuss Baz out for being a total ass, he knows that doing so would only further undermine his effort. So, he chooses peace for once.
He begins backing away towards the door, already cursing at Penelope under his breath for making him do this, and quietly slips out into the hall without another word. Baz doesn't deserve another word with how he'd acted.
Thanks, you too. Was all he thought to say? Along with some snarky comments downplaying Simon's apology? Fuck, he needs to take a lap. Maybe he'll run into Penelope and be able to chase after her to get the anger out of his system; that'd be nice.
But as he makes it down the stairs, no matter how hard he tries to think about chasing around Penelope rather than what Baz just did, his words replay over and over again in his head.
And only then does Simon realize.
"You too," he mumbles under his breath, barely loud enough for even himself to hear. "Me too?"
He stops abruptly, feet planted on a step just three away from making it to the next floor.
"Happy Pride Month," Simon says slowly. "To me too?"
Why would Baz say that? It didn't make any sense because… well…
I'm not gay.
He pauses.
…Right?
The soft click! of the door closing barely registered in Baz's scattered mind. He faintly realized that Simon had left, but couldn't find it in himself to care.
He'd never seen Simon's chicken scratch handwriting this close up before. His handwriting was almost like a child's, just like his coloring skills.
Instead of coloring in one, linear stroke, he opted to go in different directions. Giving the technicolored card a messy, haphazard look that Baz couldn't help but find adorable.
Simon had even gone as far as to write the Happy Pride Month! on the font in a stylized, typography bubble font that made it all the more cute. Though he'd done a far from perfect job, Baz couldn't help but cherish his work.
His eyes traced every wonky bump, uneven curve, and unnecessary space between letters in the same word. It was so cute. The way Simon clearly tried to write in a straight line, yet the words on the paper slowly slanted around the edge of each sentence.
The content of the letter itself was adorable, too. A half-assed paragraph entailing an apology, akin to the one Simon had given before he revealed the card. Baz expected nothing less.
He stood up from his bed, leaving an ear out for footsteps in case Simon were to return, while keeping his light so as not to give himself away.
Now at his desk, he takes one last look at the card. Taking in its uneven strokes and wonky lettering, before slipping it into the drawer. He makes sure to hide it beneath other papers, of course.
Simon has a habit of sifting through his stuff, so putting it in the middle of everything is more effective than putting it at the bottom, where Simon will probably check first.
Baz returns to his bed with a smile on his face, recalling Simon's adorably pathetic expression as apologies that seemed to be as painful as the humdrum itself left his lips.
Pressed brows, a shifty gaze, pouty lips, and slightly colored cheeks. Baz had to resist pouncing on him right then and there, and he nearly did towards the end.
All the blood left in him had rushed to his cheeks; he had to hide behind the card to keep Simon from seeing it. Maintaining the cool, composed, nonchalant persona had never been so difficult.
But it luckily hadn't slipped through his voice, which was all that really mattered. He even managed to say thank you and a bit more.
And a bit more? Baz stills. What else did he say? Why can't he remember?
Hastily, he replays the scenario in his head.
"Thanks, you too," he'd said.
You too.
Baz could die from sheer embarrassment.