#fdf2

[reitisen]

Between Two Worlds

[firebirdxvi]

Fils du Feu 02 ~ Flamme d'Espoir

Maître Cyril avait rassemblé tous les Immortels après que l'agitation générale se soit calmée. Dans la grande salle de réunion, celle qui leur servait à méditer ou à communier ensemble, les murmures allaient bon train. Cette ambiance était tout à fait inhabituelle, et il du attendre un moment pour obtenir le silence. Lui-même se sentait gagné par une fébrilité nouvelle, et il se força à garder le ton calme et monocorde que tout le monde lui connaissait. Son rôle allait devenir encore bien plus important...

Il tendit les mains et commença à parler :

- "Vous savez tous que le grand jour que nous attendions est arrivé : le sérénissime Phénix, flamme de vie, de mort et de renaissance, nous a fait la grâce de s'éveiller et de nous bénir de sa divine présence." Il ressentait un plaisir coupable à prononcer enfin ces mots. "Cependant, son voyage fut long et son retour dans son vaisseau charnel peut s'accompagner de quelques difficultés que nous devrons aider Sa Grâce à surmonter. Bien des années se sont écoulées, notre archiduché est détruit, la famille Rosfield anéantie, mais l'espoir de tout reconstruire perdure."

Des soupirs se firent entendre autour de lui.

- "Le secret absolu doit demeurer. Aucun d'entre vous ne doit évoquer le Phénix hors de ses murs. Celui qui s'en rendra coupable sera exécuté sur le champ. Tel est la loi de notre ordre dont je suis le garant."

Après ce rappel intimidant, un adepte leva la main avec révérence pour demander la parole.

- "Allons-nous le laisser sortir ? Il voudra sûrement découvrir comment le monde a changé en son absence... Comment se porte-t-il ?"

Cyril prit le temps de choisir ses mots.

- "Sa Grâce se remet à peine de son long coma. Des traumatismes physiques et mentaux semblent l'affecter, mais rien que nous ne pourrons surmonter. Si le Phénix est puissant, la chair est faible ; nous devons nous en accommoder. Pour le moment, sa guérisseuse attitrée" - il désigna la concernée - "continuera de s'occuper de sa santé."

- Vous avez parlé de problèmes... mentaux...", risqua un autre adepte sans avoir levé la main.

Il coupa court à sa question en notant le regard courroucé que Cyril lui lançait de dessous sa capuche. Le Maître consentit malgré tout à répondre :

- "Il est inutile de vous cacher la vérité : son esprit a été abîmé par la terrible expérience de Fort Phénix. Sa mémoire semble défaillante et il peine à se souvenir de ce qui s'est passé." Il attendit quelques instants avant de reprendre. "Nous faisons face à un autre problème que nous n'avions pas envisagé. Si son corps a changé, son esprit est toujours celui d'un enfant de dix ans... En plus de cela, il paraît avoir oublié beaucoup des usages de la vie quotidienne. Même parler lui est difficile. Il doit réapprendre tout ce qu'un enfant est censé assimiler en l'espace de plusieurs années. Il restera dans le Nid encore un moment je crois."

- "Mais c'est terrible !...", se plaignit une adepte prête à fondre en larmes.

- "Ses pouvoirs d'Emissaire semblent intacts, n'est-ce pas l'essentiel ?" répondit Cyril, sur la défensive. "Ce n'est qu'une question de temps avant que Sa Grâce ne retrouve toutes ses facultés. Il pourra marcher au milieu de vous quand le moment sera venu." Les adeptes joignirent les mains et quelques-uns tombèrent à genoux. "Continuez de le servir comme il se doit, et la meilleure manière pour vous de le faire, c'est de suivre mes ordres. Retournez à vos taches."

Il mit fin à la réunion et les Immortels se dispersèrent. Seuls restèrent dans la pièce Cyril, la soigneuse du Phénix et la jeune Jote. Elles avaient assisté à tout ce qui s'était passé et même à certaines choses qu'il n'avait pas révélées aux adeptes.

- "Il va sans dire que je vous ordonne le silence sur ce que j'ai moi-même tu", annonça-t-il. "Ils n'ont pas besoin de tout savoir. Et de toute façon, tout ceci passera. Il lui faut du temps..."

- Oui, Maître. Sa Grâce est restée endormie cinq ans...", soupira la soigneuse. "Imaginez le choc qu'il a eu en se levant de son lit et en voyant son image sur la surface polie du mur de sa chambre..."

- "Il vous l'a dit ?" s'étonna Cyril.

- "Pas vraiment. Il ne prononçait pas encore des sons... articulés quand je l'ai quitté. Mai je pense l'avoir deviné. Il se tenait tout près de ce miroir improvisé quand nous l'avons trouvé. Il sanglotait et essayait de se... déchirer le visage..."

- "Vous me l'avez déjà dit, ne prenez pas cet air dramatique", lui intima le Maître. Il détestait par-dessus tout les démonstrations de sensiblerie. "Vous lui avez donné des sédatifs ?"

- "Oui, même si je pense pour ma part qu'il a assez dormi. Mais je ne voulais pas qu'il se fasse du mal..."

- "Evidemment, ce serait désastreux. Il vaut mieux ne rien révéler de la détresse mentale de Sa Grâce aux adeptes. Je compte sur vous pour remédier à ce problème."

- "Je sais soigner les maux physiques, mais ceux de l'esprit me sont plus obscurs... Le savoir des Immortels n'inclut pas..."

- Je suis sûr que vous y arriverez, vous vous occupez de lui depuis longtemps." Il baissa les yeux sur Jote, qui avait écouté en silence jusque-là. "Il serait sans doute bon pour lui d'avoir à ses côtés la compagnie d'une jeune personne..."

La petite fille se raidit et son regard se fit déterminé.

- "C'est un grand honneur, Maître..."

- "Pas de familiarités avec Sa Grâce, cela va de soi. Vous n'êtes pas son amie mais sa servante. S'il vous demande l'impossible, vous obéissez ; s'il vous demande de mourir, vous le faites. Et il est inutile de le rappeler : personne ne doit lui parler de ce qui est advenu de sa famille. Pour l'instant. Quand la mémoire lui reviendra, nous aviserons."

Jote hocha la tête machinalement, comme hypnotisée par le regard pénétrant du Maître des Immortels.

- "C'est ce que nous sommes tous disposés à faire, moi y compris. Nos vies ne servent qu'à son usage. Ne l'oubliez jamais : vous n'existez que pour permettre au Phénix de déployer à nouveau ses ailes."

Il leur indiqua de disposer, ce qui signifiait retourner au Nid. Les deux adeptes seraient même sans doute forcées d'y demeurer la plupart du temps, pour surveiller les moindres faits et gestes de l'Emissaire. Cependant, le Maître exprima son désir de les accompagner.

- "Je veux me rendre compte par moi-même de son état et lui rendre hommage, même s'il est inconscient", expliqua-t-il avant de les précéder dans le couloir.

Arrivés devant la porte en forme d'anneau, la soigneuse présenta de nouveau la clef et la chambre s'ouvrit. Une forte chaleur régnait dans la pièce, et ce qui ressemblait à de minuscules plumes de fin duvet blanc flottaient dans les airs... Cyril balaya l'espace devant lui de la main pour les écarter, se demandant bien d'où elles pouvaient venir...

Joshua Rosfield ne dormait pas. Il était allongé dans son lit, le corps recouvert de son draps, et contemplait sa main au bout de son bras tendu vers le plafond. Il ne faisait pas attention à eux. Il tournait et retournait sa main tout en bougeant les doigts, de longs doigts fins et délicats... qui devaient lui apparaître comme tout à fait étrangers. Puis, il ramena sa main et en posa le dos sur son front en gémissant faiblement. La soigneuse eu de nouveau un mouvement de réconfort en se portant vers lui. Cyril l'arrêta.

- "Pas d'apitoiements inutiles, vous n'êtes pas sa mère."

- "Je devrais peut-être l'être si vous voulez que je guérisse son esprit", rétorqua-t-elle, avec un ton de défi à peine dissimulé.

Cyril ne répondit pas mais se dirigea vers le lit de son seigneur. S'arrêtant à une distance respectueuse, il s'inclina profondément devant l'Emissaire, qui se mit à le regarder sans comprendre ce qui se passait. Son regard faisait penser à une page vide...

- "Je suis Cyril, le Maître des Immortels. Permettez-moi, illustre Phénix, de vous rendre l'hommage que je vous dois. Sachez que ma vie et celle de tous les adeptes sont vôtres. Ordonnez, nous obéirons. Vous n'avez qu'un seul mot à dire..."

Mais Joshua ne dit rien, et le bleu-vert de ses yeux sous sa frange de cheveux blonds le transperça, comme s'il pouvait sonder son âme. C'était un regard d'enfant qui venait de naître, mais dans le visage émacié d'un adolescent qui s'éveillait d'un très long rêve. Cyril fut presque tenté de le plaindre... mais se reprit immédiatement. Il s'éloigna de la couche.

- "Prenez bien soin de lui. Je veux un rapport quotidien sur ses progrès. Dès qu'il sera capable de comprendre et de parler de façon correcte, je veux le savoir."

- "A vos ordres, Maître", s'exclamèrent ensemble les deux adeptes.

Cyril quitta alors la pièce, non sans un dernier regard et une ultime révérence vers Joshua qui avait entreprit à présent d'examiner la plante de ses pieds en dérangeant tout à fait l'agencement de ses draps. Il semblait avoir bien du mal à utiliser ses longs membres filiformes... Enfin, il laissa les deux adeptes avec leur patient.

La soigneuse se porta au chevet de l'Emissaire et l'invita à se couvrir de nouveau de son draps. Joshua obéit machinalement, comme un enfant grondé, et croisa sagement ses mains sur ses genoux. Mais on voyait bien qu'il était au bord des larmes. La soigneuse le rassura et balaya les mèches folles et humides de son front avant de l'observer plus attentivement.

- "N'ayez aucune crainte...", souffla-t-elle doucement. "Personne ici ne vous fera le moindre mal..."

Si elle était parvenue à conserver intactes ses fonctions vitales, l'Emissaire était très amaigri et sa peau avait pris la blancheur de la craie et la fragilité du papier. Ses cheveux blonds-roux avaient aussi considérablement poussés et lui tombaient dans le bas des reins. Elle n'avait pas eu le coeur de les couper car elle ignorait alors s'il désirerait les garder à cette longueur... Ils méritaient par contre un bon nettoyage.

Joshua ne fuyait pas devant elle, comme s'il la reconnaissait en quelque sorte. Mais il la laissa examiner le moindre recoin de son anatomie avec appréhension, d'abord ses cicatrices sur le torse, sur les cuisses, les bras ; puis celle sur son crâne, qui avait causé bien du souci à la soigneuse. Enfin, elle osa lui poser une question :

- "Avez-vous mal quelque part, Votre Grâce ?"

Elle avait parlé dans un doux murmure, comme une mère l'aurait fait pour son petit garçon malade. Il pencha la tête, comme s'il entendait un son familier et tenta à son tour de communiquer.

- "Grr.... rrr... aaaa..."

Cela resta coincé dans sa gorge et la soigneuse adopta alors un type de langage universel : celui des signes. Il sembla comprendre ce qu'elle lui demandait et indiqua son propre visage.

- "Il n'y a rien sur votre visage. Il a certes changé mais il n'a rien de laid... Aucune cicatrice n'y est restée, j'ai fais tout mon possible pour ça." Elle lui expliqua par signes.

Le patient se mit alors en tête d'attraper les plumes duveteuses qui semblaient avoir envahi la pièce. Il en saisit une et la regarda avec intérêt, puis la souleva dans les airs pour la voir flotter de nouveau. Comme effrayé par le phénomène, il se cacha le visage sous son draps. La soigneuse lui sourit.

- "C'est vous qui générez ces jolies petites choses douces et légères", lui expliqua-t-elle avec patience. "C'est votre pouvoir d'Emissaire. Vous ne le contrôlez plus très bien mais cela vous reviendra petit à petit."

Joshua semblait un peu apaisé mais la fatigue le gagna. Avant de s'allonger de nouveau sur ses oreillers, il mima des signes dont la signification était évidente, même pour la petite Jote, qui observait tout avec intérêt.

- "Il a soif, c'est ça ?" s'exclama-t-elle.

- "Je crois que oui. Il faut dire qu'il fait une chaleur ici... C'est comme si l'essence du feu elle-même avait envahi la pièce. C'est sans doute bon signe, il n'a pas perdu le Phénix...", soupira la soigneuse, comme si elle avait vraiment craint que cela n'arrivât. "Va lui chercher de l'eau fraîche. Et ensuite, Votre Grâce, je vous ferais prendre un bon bain. Vous aimerez ça, vous verrez."

- "Je reviens vite !", s'écria Jote, toute heureuse de cette mission. "Je ne ferais pas tomber la cruche cette fois !"

Et elle sortit presque en sautillant, insoucieuse qu'on puisse la voir. Le Phénix apportait enfin dans sa vie le changement dont elle avait bien besoin. Elle avait hâte d'apprendre à le connaître.

[reitisen]

Meteor ☄️

Throw beans? Giant rock. Simple as.

[reitisen]

Sonata of Horror

The prettiest design from a fan game! I've changed up some stuff from her appearance and design, but overall it still maintains her nature!

[angelsfalling16]

Chapter 6 of Friends Don’t Get Engaged

Read it on ao3

Previous Chapter

Summary: Simon and Baz try to work things out and see if there is a possibility of a future for them together.

Word Count: 4243

A/N: I didn't mean to make you all wait so long for this chapter. I just got busy writing other things, and I had been hoping to have the epilogue finished before I posted this. Unfortunately, I'm not sure when/if I'll ever finish the epilogue, so for right now, I'm calling this the end of this fic. Maybe someday, I'll figure out how to get it done, but for now I am letting it go. I'm sorry, everyone.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Thank you @wo2ash for beta reading!

***

Simon

Penny and I have barely stepped into Dev and Niall’s flat before Dev starts questioning me.

“Hey, is this for real?”

“Is what for real?” Penny asks.

“Take a look,” he says, handing her something that I instantly recognize as the save-the-date card I sent out the other day.

“Simon!” She hisses, turning on me. “What have you done?”

“Nothing,” I say, but when she glares at me, I add, “Nothing that can’t be undone.”

“These were only meant to be templates. Who else did you send them to?”

“Just you three. And Baz. I was hoping that they hadn’t arrived yet.”

“When did you send these out?”

“Before you guys came to me with your plan. I was hoping that it would show Baz that I’m serious about him. I was trying to find a way to get him to talk to me about all of this.”

Penny shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut while she apparently tries to process the sheer amount of stupidity of my actions.

“It’s fine,” She says after several quiet moments. “We’ll deal with it. Maybe Baz hasn’t seen it yet.”

“Let’s hope so,” Niall says, not unkindly. “Have you figured out what you’re going to say to him when he gets here?”

I shrug. “I’m just kind of hoping that something will come to me.”

“Really? That’s what you came up with yesterday,” Dev asks in a condescending tone that’s only a shadow of the way Baz used to talk to me, so it rolls off of me.

I’ve been trying to think of something to say to Baz ever since I stormed out of the flat, but I’ve still come up empty, which is exactly why I haven’t really tried to have contact with him since then.

Now, I’m kind of just hoping that when I see him, I will know what to say. I just need him to give me a chance.

“Ignore him,” Penny says, shooting him a glare that I have been on the receiving end of more times that I can count, so I feel for Dev a little as he turns away from us. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Are you ready?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit.

I don’t think that this is something that you can really be ready for. How do you prepare for something that could possibly change your life in a big way?

Penny

I walk with Simon into the living room. He seems nervous. He keeps tugging at his clothes and running his hand through his ever-messy hair.

I don’t think that I have ever seen him this nervous. Not even when we went up against various creatures that seemed to be coming after Simon specifically for years. I wouldn’t say that he kept a level head during those times, but he did what he could, fought them to the very end.

“Are you ready?” I ask Simon, one last time.

He doesn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”

I think maybe getting away from Dev and Niall helped him to calm down. They aren’t exactly the people I would have chosen to make plans with, but I have to admit that they aren’t bad company either.

“Okay. I’ll go let them know,” I tell him before giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “You can do this.”

“Penny, wait,” he says quietly. For a moment, I’m worried that he’s about to back out, but then he smiles at me. It’s not the bright smile he usually has, but that’s understandable given the circumstances.

“Yeah, Simon?”

“Thank you. For your support in all of this, for accepting it so easily, and for being my best friend.”

I smile at him. “Of course. I’d do anything for you. Now, go get him.”

He nods, and I leave him alone in Dev and Niall’s living room.

We’re using their flat for this because we thought it would be easier to come up with a way to get Baz here than to get him to return to mine and Simon’s flat.

When I step inside their bedroom, I find them making out on their bed, Niall’s hands in Dev’s hair and Dev’s arms wrapped around Niall’s waist.

“Come on,” I groan. “I left for two minutes.”

“Sorry,” Niall says bashfully, pulling away, but Dev shrugs unapologetically, smiling at him.

“You two are just like Simon and Baz. Can’t keep your hands off of each other, even when there are other people around.”

“Seriously?” Dev asks. “They made out in front of you? I thought it was all pretend.”

“That’s just what they kept telling themselves.”

“They really were clueless, weren’t they?”

“No less clueless than you were before we got together,” Niall says, and the look that he gives Dev makes me worried that they might start kissing again if I don’t interrupt them.

Luckily, there’s a knock at the door then, which is Dev’s cue to leave the room.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we’ll all just be sitting here while they’re working it out in there?” Niall asks after a minute of awkward silence between where he tries to right his clothes.

“I mean, it’s your flat, and I’m basically just here for support.”

“You mean we’ll be able to eavesdrop on them and know what they’re doing.”

“Or we’ll be able to step in if things start to go south.” It’s Dev who says this, reentering the room behind me.

That was fast, but it has to be a good thing, right? It means that he didn’t have to fight with Baz to get him to stay here.

I watch as Niall’s eyes light up, simply from seeing Dev again, and it reminds me a lot of the way that Simon looks at Baz. I don’t think that either of them realize that it happens. It’s just a reaction to be around each other. It’s like they’re almost as oblivious as Simon and Baz.

Almost. At least Niall managed to admit that he has feelings for Dev without having to go through all of these hoops.

“What’d you say to get Baz here, by the way?” Niall asks as Dev crosses the room to sit next to him.

I stay close to the door, trying to catch what Baz and Simon are saying in the other room, but I can’t hear them. I wouldn’t be surprised if Baz cast a spell so that we wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“That there was an emergency. I may have slightly implied that you were injured.”

“He’s going to be pissed.”

“I’m hoping that seeing Simon will soften some of the anger.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Niall says, shaking his head.

Maybe we should have come up with a way to get Baz here that wouldn’t cause him to be worried about his friend. That might make things not go well if he feels like he’s been tricked into getting here. Which he has, but I’d rather him not already be angry before Simon even gets a chance to say something.

I suppose it’s too late at this point. Now, it’s all up to Simon.

 Baz

Before Dev called me, I was lying in bed, where I had been all day.

He wouldn’t give me details about what was happening, but he said that something was wrong with Niall and that I needed to get over to their flat as fast as possible.

I hurried to leave my flat even though I wasn’t completely convinced that something was really wrong with either of them. If there was, I doubt they would call me over to their flat, but they’re my friends, so I’m going. Also, it’s a good excuse to get out of the house.

I didn’t even bother slicking back my hair like I usually do. I tied it back messily into a bun and got into my car. If it is an emergency, I can’t waste time doing my hair.

Now, I’m driving over to Dev and Niall’s flat, and I don’t know what to expect when I get there.

Sometimes, I still can’t believe that they are a couple.

I mean, I can see the chemistry between them, how happy they are in each other’s presence, but I never would have guessed that there was anything romantic between them. I also can’t believe how long they managed to keep it a secret from me.

Apparently, without me there to stand between the two of them at the beginning of the year, when I had been kidnapped, they were able to come to terms with how they felt about each other.

I’m happy for the two of them, I am.

But it’s hard not to look at them and wish that it could be that way for me and Simon.

I wish that it wasn’t so hard just to talk to him.

I just want something to work between us.

I pull up in front of their building and shut off the car before reaching for my phone where it sits along with the mail that I retrieved on my way to my car. One of the envelopes catches my attention in the midst of all the junk mail.

There’s no return address on it, but the color of the envelope, a deep shade of red, looks familiar.

My curiosity piqued, I grab the envelope and open it as I make my way up the stairs to their flat. There’s a card inside, and the words “Save the Date” jump out at me.

I rarely receive invitations to anything, and when I do, it is never through the mail.

As I look closer at the care and read the rest of the writing on it, I falter on the final step and just barely manage to catch myself on the railing before I fall down the stairs.

I am going to kill Snow.

 Simon

I pace nervously back and forth across Dev and Niall’s living room while I wait, and when there are three sharp taps at the door, I freeze.

My heart starts pounding in my chest, and it feels like I’m running out of air.

This was a mistake.

Baz is going to be pissed when he sees me, and it’s going to turn into a big fight. One that will result in him and I officially being done with each other.

I can’t believe I thought that this was a good idea. I have to go tell Penny that I changed mind, that I don’t want to do this.

“You okay, Simon?” Dev asks as he passes by me on his way to the door, his voice surprisingly gentle. We all agreed that it was best if Dev answered the door since there was a large possibility of Baz turning away as soon as he saw me.

He stops just beside the door, waiting for my response.

“Y-yeah,” I tell him.

“You’ll be fine,” he says reassuringly. “We’re just in the other room if you need us.”

“Okay.” I nod once at him, and he turns to open the door.

A moment later, I hear Baz’s voice.

“Where’s Niall? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing. He’s fine,” Dev says, and I watch as he ushers Baz inside the flat.

“What do you mean? When you called me, you said that there was an emergency.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you would come unless you thought the situation was dire.”

“You lied so that I would come hang out with you?” He asks, sounding put out and just a smidge angry.

“Not exactly…”

That’s when they start moving closer to me, and I can see it in Baz’s eyes when his eyes finally land on me.

His expression turns stone cold, shutting out any worry that he may have had for his friend. He doesn’t look angry, but I think I would prefer that because at least if he was angry, it would mean that he cared, that he had some kind of feeling about seeing me.

“What are you doing here?” Even his voice is emotionless. I expected him to give me his best sneer when he saw me, but somehow this is worse.

“I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t know how else to get you to see me,” I say, watching as Dev edges around us and out of the room.

“Oh, so now you want to talk?”

It’s a fair point, but it still stings. I try to respond, but Baz keeps going.

“We could have talked days ago, but you decided to storm out like a child and then ignore my phone calls.”

“That’s not fair. How could I talk to you when you were treating this like nothing but a competition?”

“You know what’s not fair? You breaking off our engagement like that without trying to talk through whatever it was that was bothering you.”

“It wasn’t a real engagement, remember?” Because I can’t help myself. Because I can feel all of this anger and pain boiling inside of me, but he is standing here, acting like he couldn’t care less.

“As if I could forget. That doesn’t explain why you did this, though.” He thrusts his hand out so that I can see what he’s holding.

It’s the save-the-date card that I sent him.

“I can explain,” I tell him.

“What explanation could you possibly have for doing this? Was it to try and upset me?”

“No, that wasn’t it at all. I was trying to show you that I care about--.”

“Some way to show you care,” he says, cutting me off, but a new emotion flickers across his face, quickly gone again before I can figure out what it is. “Sending out invitations for a fake wedding to all of our classmates.”

“That’s not what I did,” I say in a near-shout, unable to cover up my frustration. I take a deep breath and say, “I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Then, why are you here?”

It’s irritating that he can act so calm, that he can have this conversation without feeling anything. I want him to feel something. I want him to show me that I’m not making a mistake here, that there is a chance that this could work out, even if it’s a small one.

“To talk. The one thing that we can never seem to figure out how to do. I just wanted to talk about this, about everything.”

“Okay, talk.” He crosses his arms and leans against the wall, like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

I tear a hand through my hair, trying to steady myself.

I could say any number of things right now, but none of them would come out right, and Baz would find a way to twist them around. The best thing to do is to not beat around the bush, to come right out and say the one thing I’ve been dying to say for months. The one thing that scares me more than anything else to say.

“I love you, Baz.”

There. I finally said it. I love him, and I’m so afraid that I’m about to lose him for good.

His whole body goes still, then he stands up straight, back going rigid. He could kill me now, and no one would be able to stop him. (It makes me miss the Anathema for a moment.)

“That isn’t funny,” he sneers, and he sounds angry, scary angry now that he’s finally let the cold mask fall away.

“I wasn’t joking,” I tell him, resisting the urge to back away as he stalks toward me. “I mean it. I’m in love with you.”

“Why now?” He asks. He stops moving once he’s just a couple of feet away from me..

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until now to tell me? We’ve been fake engaged for months. Why did you wait so long to try to talk to me?”

“Because I was afraid.” As long as I’m being honest about how I feel, I decide to tell him the truth about everything. “I thought you could never feel the same. I was supposed to break up with you back at Watford, but I couldn’t because it felt too real. I couldn’t end this thing between us, even though it was fake, because I had fallen for you, and I didn’t want to let you go. But I was so worried that you wouldn’t feel the same.”

“And now, you think I do?”

“I hope you do,” I say earnestly. “That’s all I have. Hope.”

“Hope that what? I’ll want to be with you?” He takes another step forward. I continue to stand my ground, waiting for him to hit me, either with his fist or a spell.

“Yes. I thought that maybe we could give this a real chance.”

“Really, Snow? Who’s to say that I haven’t moved on from you? Who’s to say that finding out what it’s like to actually date you didn’t make me realize that it wasn’t something that I wanted?”

I feel like I’m going to crumble to pieces at those words. He’s even gone back to calling me Snow, which shouldn’t hurt so much, but it does. It’s like there’s a wall between us again.

Was I really such a terrible boyfriend that it would make him not have feelings for me anymore? (If he ever really did.)

I thought that he liked what was happening with us, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he’s just that great of an actor and was only playing the game.

I was wrong to get my hopes up, and I wish that I hadn’t agreed to doing this.

I have to get out of here. I can’t let Baz have the satisfaction of seeing me falling apart.

 Baz

The look on Simon’s face when I say those words nearly breaks my resolve.

I don’t mean any of it, but I want him to hurt the way that I have.

What makes him think that he can just apologize, and everything will be okay? We’ve been doing this thing for months, and all of a sudden, he wants to make it real?

I realize that I’m putting all the blame on him, and that isn’t fair.

This is just as much my fault as it is his. I let it go on like this, too. I should have just come out and told him how I really felt a long time ago. I should have done it the night before he proposed.

Then maybe we could have spent all of these months dating for real, instead of tiptoeing around each other, trying to hide our true feelings for each other.

Simon looks like he’s about to bail, and I can’t let that happen. I might be angry, but I don’t want to let him get away again.

No matter how upset I am, I can’t let this opportunity slip away.

Here he is, offering me everything that I’ve ever wanted from him, and instead of being happy about it, I’m pushing him away with every cruel thing that I can think of to say.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry. I-I’ll just go.”

He turns away from me and steps towards the door, but I can’t let him go. I can’t let it end like this.

“Simon, wait.”

I reach out to grab his arm, and for a moment, I’m sure that he’s going to keep wrench his arm out of my grasp and keep walking, but then he freezes.

 Simon

I want to walk out, be done with all of this, but I can’t.

Even if there is the slightest bit of hope that I could have something real with Baz, I have to try. I can’t let him go.

I slowly turn to face him, and he drops his hand.

“Why now?” He asks, his voice lacking the anger and distaste that it held a moment ago when he was telling me that he could be over me.

“Why do you keep asking that?”

“Because you let it go on like that for so long. How am I supposed to know for sure that this time it’s real?”

“No. You don’t get to put all of the blame on me. You were just as much a part of everything as I was. You could have told me that you wanted it to be real a long time ago too.”

“You wanted to end it. You never acted like it was anything more than a competition.”

“Because I didn’t know how you felt. You’ve liked me for years, and still, you never said anything.”

“I’m going to kill Dev.”

“At least he told me the truth.”

“You proposed to me in front of the whole school.”

“And you were supposed to end it months ago.”

We are still arguing, but it doesn’t feel as heavy as it did a moment ago.

He asked me to stay. We just need to work through all of this, work through all of our doubts about each other.

“I didn’t want to. I wanted to be with you, Simon, don’t you see that? It killed me every day to pretend to be engaged to you, but I kept telling myself that it was better than nothing. And those things you said when you proposed...it killed me to know you didn’t mean any of it.”

“I meant every word of it. I know that it was a stupid thing to do, but I meant everything I’ve said to you. I don’t want to fight. I want to spend my life with you. I don’t want to lose you. Not like this. I want a real chance to show you that I’m a good boyfriend.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Simon. I don’t know if I can risk you changing your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind,” I tell him, but he looks like he still doesn’t believe me. “Do you want to know why I finally snapped the other day? It was because you were planning this beautiful wedding, and I so badly wanted it to be our wedding. I wanted all of it, but it wasn’t real, so I had to put an end to it. Admittedly, I could have gone about it a bit differently, but I didn’t know how to tell you how I felt. But that’s what I’m doing now. I’m telling you that I’m in this for real.”

“Wait, are you asking me to date you? Or are you asking me to marry you?”

“Just date, for now. I think we need to start this whole thing over and do it all for real. I want to be your boyfriend, Baz.” And then maybe your husband, I add inside my head.

He’s silent for a long time, and I brace myself for the ‘no’ that I know is coming, but then he surprises me.

“Yes. I want to be your boyfriend, Simon.”

“I’ll still be a better boyfriend,” I say, smiling at him.                        

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that I won that one.” He takes a few, slow steps towards me, and it’s obvious he’s fighting back his own smile.

“Mm,” I hum. “I gave that to you. You didn’t actually win.”

“I suppose this is our do-over.”

“And we’ve got all the time that we need to do this.”

“I’ll win.”

“We’ll see about that.” I reach up to cup the side of his face, then let my hand slide farther back, my fingers slipping through his hair. “Why are we still fighting?” I whisper.

“It’s kind of our thing.”

“I think we need a better thing.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like this.” Then, I kiss him, and it’s the first real kiss that we’ve shared during this whole year that we’ve spent together.

 Penny

“It worked!” Dev exclaims, walking into the room.

He had snuck back down the hall a couple of minutes ago to check up on Simon and Baz, make sure that they hadn’t decided to kill each other.

“We knew it would,” I say. “They just needed a bit of help getting there.”

Dev ignores me, striding across the room to Niall and kissing him, apparently caught up in the happiness of this moment.

“Ugh. Get a room.”

“This is our room,” Dev says before going back to kissing his boyfriend.

“Right. Well, I’m leaving now.”

“Goodbye,” Niall says cordially, tearing himself away from Dev long enough to wave goodbye.

I walk into the living room on my way to the door, and I find yet another couple making out.

Is this going to be life now? Watching other people kiss?

It makes me wish that my boyfriend lived closer.

I clear my throat and Simon and Baz jump apart, wearing matching goofy grins.

Simon turns to look at me, but Baz continues to stare at Simon with a sickeningly sweet expression.

“I’m leaving,” I say. “Simon, did you need a ride back to our flat, or are you good?”

He glances at Baz, and his grin widens as he says, “I’m good.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

He’s too busy staring at Baz to respond. They’ve already lost themselves in each other, and they haven’t even managed to find their way to somewhere more private.

I’m happy for them. They are finally happy.

[angelsfalling16]

I just read the three chapters of Friends Don’t Get Engaged that I have posted on ao3, and I can’t believe that I just left it like that. It was kind of soft and a little angsty, and really, none of the readers deserved to have it left like that with no new update in sight.

[angelsfalling16]

Guess who just finished the next chapter of Friends Don’t Get Engaged!!

I still need to do some heavy edits of the next two chapters and then write the epilogue, but it’s progress!

[angelsfalling16]

Six Sentence Sunday (Even though it's Monday)

Ahh I was tagged by so many lovely people this week!! Thank you so much @vkelleyart @carryonsimoncarryonbaz and @bazypitchandsimonsnow for the tag. I was too busy yesterday to do this, but I really wanted to, so here is peak at one of my wips:

[Simon’s pov]

“I find that hard to believe,” Ebb says. “You two looked...well, maybe happy isn’t the right word since that was such a terrible time for all of us, but you two looked like you were exactly where you belonged. Together.”

“I just don’t know whether he feels the same.”

“I have no doubt about that. I saw the way he looked at you. In fact, seeing the way that you two were with each other gave me the push I needed to finally talk to that girl I told you about.”