If It Was: Part Three

if it was: part three

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: Part three of the soulmate/enemy au based off of this post. Not as angsty as the last part thank goodness.

Words: 1800

Warnings: Someone has a panic attack (relatively mild)

I’d love to hear what you guys think :)

Fifth Year (ahhh!)

Simon

Baz is definitely plotting something. So far this year he’s been acting even more suspicious than usual. Sometimes I catch him staring at me really intensely in class, like he’s going to eat me or something. The way light catches in his dusty grey eyes, dark hair falling in his face, sends shivers down my spine, he looks so evil. 

I squint at him across the classroom. Maybe if I stare hard enough I’ll be able to figure out some clue to his plot. He taps his pencil and brushes his hair back, then looks at me and raises an eyebrow as if to say What’s you’re problem, Snow? I turn away. I check back a few minutes later and find him staring at me with that same hungry expression. I growl, frustrated, and shift restlessly in my seat. The end of class couldn’t come soon enough.

My classes have felt especially long today because today’s a special day. Today’s the day I’m going to ask out Agatha. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, almost since I first met her, and now I’m actually going to do it. I just need to find the right moment.

______

Agatha

“Agatha!” I turn around and see Simon Snow hurrying towards me across the grass, his hair blowing in the slight breeze. My own long hair streams out to one side and tugs gently at my head, ethereally floating and twirling in the air as if asking to break free. I put my hands in my pockets and watch as he approaches. As he gets closer he slows and looks down at his feet. He looks nervous. Finally he stops in front of me, still looking at his feet.

“Agatha.”

“Yes?” I have a strange feeling I know what he’s going to ask me.

“I was wondering,” He rubs the back of his neck. “If you’d like to go out sometime.” He looks up, hopeful blue eyes shining in the late afternoon Autumn light.

“Like on a date.” He’s so boyish and expectant, I almost want to say yes. But I can already feel the usual panic welling up inside of me in a thick buzzing swarm. I try to shove it down but it’s like trying to stop the rising tide. My lip quivers and the pressure behind my eyes builds, and Simon’s still waiting for an answer.

“I- I’m sorry Simon. But no.”

“Oh. That’s okay.”

“It’s just,” All of the sudden I can feel hot tears on my cheeks, I can’t hold it back anymore. “You can’t know, don’t know what-” My voice breaks.

“Agatha, are you okay? Did I do something? I’m sorry.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. I step away.

“It’s just, I’m not like you. You couldn’t know but I can’t date you because I’m fake and I’m not right for anyone and, and-” Simon’s looking at me with this horrible confused expression on his face. I back away and then I’m running and running, hair whipping around and getting stuck to the wet skin on my face.

I can’t date Simon because I’m a freak. It doesn’t matter how pretty I am, how flawless my hair is, or how perfect my life seems to be because it all feels like a lie. When I look in the mirror I don’t see any of that. I see blank wrists and the helpless voice in my head that always seems to be shouting things that never leave my lips.

______

Baz

Classes have ended for the day and it’s the time when Snow usually hangs out with Bunce or Wellbelove, so I get our room to myself.  It’s liberating to be able to stretch out on my bed without having to put on any sort of show for Snow or anyone else. I glance around the room. Snow’s stuff is strewn everywhere. I’m tempted to take something and hide it under my pillow or whatever. Partially to spite Snow, partially because I’d just like to have something of his. Just to have. And maybe hold sometimes when the yearning, tearing feeling in my chest grows unbearable.

Moving as if in a trance, I find myself standing on Snow’s side of the room looking down at one of his ratty shirts. Slowly, hesitantly, I reach down and lift it up, handling it like it’s made of glass. Oh. It smells like him. Sweet and warm. I can’t resist, I bring it closer and I’m just pressing it to my face when the door swings open and Simon walks in. I freeze, heart in my throat.

______

Simon

Baz is standing there, clutching one of my shirts to his chest and holding the sleeve up to his nose (sniffing it??). I stare at him, shocked, and he stares back at me. Neither of us reacts for one long, uncomfortably drawn out moment and then we both start talking at once.

“What are you, um, why-”

“I was just, you see, Snow-" 

We both cut off abruptly. More silence. The shirt drops from Baz’s hands and I clear my throat. I didn’t think it was possible but Baz looks…flustered, caught off guard. Suddenly he strides smoothly across the room, brushing past me and out the door.

I walk over and carefully pick up the shirt he had been holding. It’s just a normal shirt. He probably spelled it with some sort of itching spell or something, that seems like him, and I caught him in the middle of it. That’s the only explanation for his reaction.

Holding the shirt as far from my body as possible, I place it in a corner of the room away from the rest of my clothes, then try to put it out of mind.

My laptop’s sitting on the bed. I have an essay due tomorrow that I haven’t even started on. I sigh and I try to flip open the screen but it won’t budge. I tug and attempt to dig my nails underneath the screen but it’s stuck to the base as if super-glued. I growl, it’s Baz. I know it. He’s spelled my laptop shut so that I’ll look like a fool when our essays are due. If I could only un-spell it…I think I remember Penny mentioning the counter spell at some point. 

Closing my eyes, I reach inside and try to draw the magic up. After a moment it fizzes under my skin, popping and buzzing and building up. It’s too much, like pouring an entire bag of Pop Rocks in your mouth all at once. I grit my teeth and focus, trying to just let one spark out.

______

Baz

I walk back into our room to find Snow on the floor, staring wide-eyed and helpless at his smoking laptop. It’s just the distraction I need from the shirt incident, he looks ridiculous. (And absolutely adorable, I might add).

"You know Snow, blowing up your laptop won’t make the homework go away.” He looks up at me from the floor, pouty and disgruntled. It’s all I can do to stifle my laugh. I try to smirk but end up smiling foolishly instead.

“I wasn’t trying to blow it up.” He pokes at it with one finger then jerks away as the laptop sparks sporadically. “This is all your fault, you spelled my laptop shut!”

“I most definitely did not. You’re just paranoid, and obsessed with me as usual.” Then I remember, I did spell his laptop shut, but that was weeks ago. Whatever. I’m not telling him that. I can’t believe he hasn’t discovered it until now.

“I’m not obsessed with you.” He mutters. “It’s just, I have an paper due tomorrow and Penny’s tutoring Agatha so she can’t help.”

“Poor little Snow, can’t even write a paper by himself. How pathetic.” I say, but my heart’s not really in it, and the insult falls flat. He looks so hopeless.

“Crowley Snow, it’s just a paper, it’s not the end of the world.”

“I know.” He frowns unhappily. I hesitate then say, “You know, if you’re really that desperate, I could help you.” Snow looks up.

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind, it was a stupid idea.”

“No, you said you’d help me.” His eager expression stirs something in my stomach. I was going to regret this.

“Yes. I did say that.” Snow thinks for a moment.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, you can help me.”

* * *

We’re sitting on the floor between our beds. Neutral territory. Neither of us has acknowledged the incident with the shirt. Simon’s chewing on his pencil, eyes burning holes in the paper as if that would somehow make the essay appear on the page. I can tell he’s having trouble focusing, he seems even more distracted than usual. Suddenly, without looking at me, he speaks up.

“I asked Agatha out today.” My stomach drops to the floor. I feel sick all of the sudden and it takes all my energy to look indifferent.

“Hmm. And why are you telling me this?” My throat is dry.

“I don’t know.” He looks at the floor, not meeting my eyes. “She said no.” I blink.

“What?” He and Wellbelove would be the golden couple, the perfect match while they were both waiting to meet their soulmates. It doesn’t make any sense for her to say no. (Not that I was complaining, I was just surprised).

“Yeah. And then she sort of…started crying.”

“What? Why?” I was intrigued despite myself. He shrugged. “I don’t know. She was saying something about being fake or something and then she just ran off.”

“I’m not surprised. One look at you and who wouldn’t run away crying?” I smirk at him, trying not to show how interested I am in his love life. Perfect angel-girl Agatha gets asked out by angel-boy Simon Snow, The Chosen One, and then runs away crying? It didn’t make any sense.

“Shut up Baz. I shouldn’t have told you. Just forget about it.”

We go back to working on his essay. My hand accidentally brushes his and I pull away so fast I nearly fall over. Simon gives me a strange look. 

I hate him for making me this way. I never asked for it and I certainly didn’t want it.

Being so close to him is like balancing on a tightrope, one wrong step and everything I’ve worked so hard for will come crashing to the ground. And I’ll be the one breaking into a million different pieces, not Simon. Never Simon.

But sometimes I wonder if that would really be that bad. Because I already feel like I’m breaking and tearing into a million pieces every single time I look into those beautiful blue eyes.