Baz knew he would never tell anyone that he suffered from nightmares-even though he knew he wasn't the only one. After all, his roommate did, as well. Not that he talked to Baz about it, but often when Baz was up, avoiding his own demons, he would watch Snow sleep restlessly. The boy tossed and turned, and occasionally even let out a whimper (even though he didn't think any differently of Simon for it, Baz hoped that he didn't do that.)
What kept Simon so restless at night, Baz could only guess at. Was it the Insidious Humdrum? Something about going off? Or something about his parents, maybe, even though Baz was almost positive he had never met them.
Whatever the reason behind it was, whenever Simon was ailed by nightmares, Baz's imagination tended to work in overdrive. It was impossible not to see him suffering and want to climb into his bed and stroke Simon's hair until he fell asleep, knowing he was safe in Baz's arms.
There were so many things wrong with that.
Most of all, though, he wanted to fall asleep with his face buried in those curls.
Crowley, how he hated himself for that.
Snow was the Mage's Heir-his enemy. And Baz was a Pitch, not someone destined to spend his life lovesick over his roommate. He had never planned on falling in love at all, let alone like this. Love was nonexistent in the Pitch family tree. Marriage and children-that was all political.
There was nothing political about his affection for Simon Snow, though.
What kept Baz up most was his mother. He was still broken, over a decade later, from her death. He wasn't supposed to talk about it, to try and make himself whole again. Pitch's lived fragmented, if they had to, rather than trying to do something about it. What could be done, anyways? His mother was gone. He couldn't control the nightmares.
Couldn't control how often he thought about, dreamed about his mother's death.
Or how often he dreamed of his mother learning what he was and ending him.
He couldn't control waking up panting and sweating (even in his ice-cold body).
Or that, tonight, Simon was already awake, dealing with his own nightmares.
Baz sat up in bed, confused and drowning in emotion. Did it have to seem so real?
When he heard Simon's muffled sobs, something in him broke.
"Snow," he whispered, before he could stop himself, long before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to care about this boy.
But he didn't wish he could wake it back. He didn't want to be tortured by Simon's nightmares anymore (or rather, by his own helplessness when they happened).
Snow didn't answer, just shifted his body away from Baz's bed and attempted to quiet himself.
It didn't surprise Baz that Simon figured he was just trying to torment him. Why wouldn't he think that? Baz played his part well.
He didn't feel like playing it right now, though.
And so, perhaps against his better judgment, he spoke up. "I had a nightmare, too."
Simon did manage to quiet, now. "What?" He asked, and Simon could hear the absolute shock in his voice. He turned to face his roommate, and Baz could see that his expression held a little curiosity, as well. Or maybe that was bewilderment.
Baz couldn't help but notice how his curls looked the same as always. Beautiful and tempting.
He sighed and leaned against his headboard, looking straight ahead instead of at Simon."I was trapped by fire, watching vampires murder my mother," he said, his voice hollow. "And then... she was gone. And I was burning."
The moon was full and bright that night, and all Baz could hope was that Simon wasn't looking and couldn't see his tears.
Simon swing his legs over the side of his bed so he was facing Baz completely. Baz didn't let himself look and indulge in longing.
"It was the chimera tonight."
Baz's stomach tightened at that-sometimes his nightmares also involved Simon being killed by the chimera.
(He was a failure of a Pitch.)
"I was headed to the Wavering Wood," Snow continued softly. Baz still wasn't looking at him, but he didn't think Snow was looking at him, either. "I could hear these-well, it was you, and the chimera was attacking you, I tried to..." He trailed off, than started again. "It came after me. I... I hate waking up like this."
Both boys were lost in their own thoughts for a minute or two. Baz broke the silence first.
"You still think about the chimera?"
There was another silence. It was shorter this time, then Simon said, a little defensively, "Of course I do. It was bloody terrifying."
"It wasn't fun for me either," Baz said, finally turning to Simon. He cracked a crooked smile.
Simon looked at him incredulously. "It was your fault you had to go through that!"
And then, the situation hit them, and neither of them could help laughing a little.
"Did I... Did I ever apologize for that?" Baz asked hesitantly. He knew the answer-of course he hadn't. Pitches don't apologize.
Simon was stunned into silence once again. "… You're... sorry?"
Baz took a deep breath and said something he had never thought he'd say aloud; "I'm glad you didn't die, Snow."
Simon cocked his head, obviously not understanding. "What? So you can kill me later?"
Baz had to laugh again. "Crowley, Snow. No. I don't want to kill you. Ever."
Simon narrowed his eyes, but Baz's expression remained stoic. The two stared one another down for a moment. "Okay," he said finally. Baz had no idea what that meant, though. "I should get back to sleep," he added, looking uncertainly at his hands in his lap. "If I can, I mean."
"Right," Baz agreed. "Of course."
He wanted to ask Simon if he was okay now, but couldn't bring himself to. Tomorrow morning, they would still have to wake up and hate one another. Not that he wanted that (did Snow?), but that was the way it would always be with them.
Trying not to be aware of Simon's every movement, Baz laid down again (planning to watch Simon breathe until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore) (Simon was like a white noise machine sometimes. In a good way) when Simon let out a sigh. It was almost longing. It made Baz want to crawl into bed and...
Stop thinking about him, you useless Pitch.
But something made Baz shift his entire body to the right, until he was on the edge of the bed, far away from Simon's.
"Baz?" Simon said, his voice full of doubt. Baz closed his eyes and willed himself not to answer.
"Just... Snow, just..." He pressed his lips together, thoroughly embarassed now.
There was a moment of nothingness before Simon slipped of his own bed and crawled next to Baz in his.
He's here he's so close he is so warm he's in my bed
"Thank you," he whispered.
When I woke up, his hand was resting on my stomach. I covered it with mine and slowly fell back so sleep, happy that Snow was not awake to see my smile.