Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I.” Swithin doesn’t meet Baz’s eyes directly; he never does. Rather, he looks at a point between Baz’s chin and collarbone. “I think I’ve got a crush on my roommate.” 

~

Halfway across town, Simon Snow is sitting in a chip shop and watching his fifteen-year-old cousin Gregory Petty shred a napkin into confetti with the sheer force of his anxiety. 

“I think my roommate is  a demon and that he is literally trying to kill me,” Gregory blurts out. 

~ 

“He’s.” Swithin pauses, searching carefully for the words. “Different from me,” he says, finally. “Loud. People like him.” 

~ 

“He never has bedhead,” Gregory says, his eyes burning with the intensity of a thousand suns behind his glasses. “He just wakes up and his hair is perfect. Like a shampoo model or something. He must’ve made a deal with the devil!!” 

~ 

“He’s very clever,” Swithin continues, and Baz doesn’t dare interrupt - this is the most words he’s heard Swithin speak all at once, in a long time. “He’s good at Maths. And games.” 

~ 

“He’s uncannily good at games,” Gregory rants. “I watched him play Hades one time and that fucker didn’t die for the longest time!! It’s unnatural!!” 

“All right,” Simon says. “What makes you think he’s trying to kill you?” 

Gregory’s eyes blaze. “This one time, I slept in and missed dinner, yeah? So I - ”

~ 

“I thought I’d bring him something from the dining hall. They were serving butter chicken  that night. I thought. That he would like it.” Swithin goes quiet. He turns his teaspoon this way and that. 

“He likes butter chicken,” Swithin adds, softly. “He always goes back for seconds.” 

~ 

“I love butter chicken,” Gregory says fiercely, which Simon can attest to. “So when I saw the tiffin on my desk when I woke up I was like, fuck yeah! I didn’t think to question it, you know? Of course I ate it! And then,” Gregory’s face darkens, “I got food poisoning. He poisoned me, Simon!” 

~

“I had to bring him to the infirmary.” Swithin hunches up on the sofa, his dark brown hair hiding most of his face. “It was awful, Baz. He was so ill, and... I tried to stay, but the nurse made me go back to the dorm."

~ 

“And then when I’m feeling better, I come back to our room, yeah? Looking forward to my own bed, my own pillow. And then Fatima Wasem walks out, just like cool as anything, and she's like, ‘Oh. It’s you.’ CLEARLY, Swithin was trying to do away with me for the weekend so he could make out with Fatima in OUR ROOM!!” 

~ 

“Fatima was.” Swithin hunches into himself. “Trying to. Talk me out of it.” 

And Baz prompts, gently, “Out of…?” 

Swithin fidgets. “Having a crush on Gregory.” 

~ 

“He’s got to be a demon,” Gregory says, furious. “One time he played the cello and it was so beautiful it made me cry. That’s not natural. It’s supernatural.” 

~ 

“Anyway, it’s.” Swithin finally takes an iced bun and starts tearing it into small pieces. “It’s not anything. I just… wanted to talk about it, I guess.” He pops a tiny piece of iced bun into his mouth. “Thanks, Baz.”

~ 

“He’s so quiet, I just know he’s thinking of ways to murder me,” Gregory says gloomily. “He barely says anything, just stares. Makes me feel like a tit, just gabbing to fill up the silence, and then he’ll say like one word and walk off. The girls in our year love it, they think he’s all cool and mysterious. I bet Fatima digs that whole-“ he waves a hand around “-thing. That thing where he’s like an artist, and obviously thinking deep thoughts, but also he’s good at science, and it’s just not fair, all right? It’s not fair for one person to be good all those things and also look like, like that pretty, like he’s from a boy band or something. It’s not like his looks are perfect, he’s got this little gap between his front teeth that only shows when he smiles, and he doesn’t smile very often, at least not at me, but one time I saw him smile because I spilled tea on myself, and-”

~ 

Baz checks his watch. “Snow should be back at any moment, and we can leave for the film together.” His brow draws together. “He asked if it was all right with you, if he could bring his cousin along."

Swithin worries at his bottom lip; he hates meeting new people. “It’s just a film, right? It’s not like I’ll have to talk.” 

“Right,” Baz says. “And if his cousin is intolerable, we can ditch them and have our own superior cinematic experience.” 

Swithin smiles, shoving the rest of the iced bun in his mouth. “I like watching films with Simon,” he says. “He always has the best complaints about the action sequences.” 

~ 

“YOU!!!” Gregory sputters in the doorway of Baz and Simon’s flat. 

Swithin freezes in the middle of knotting his navy-blue scarf around his throat. He blinks. “Me,” he says, agreeable but cautious. 

“But you - but - ARRGH! SIMON!” 

Gregory slams the door of the flat shut. Baz can hear Simon and his cousin having some sort of - argument? Conversation? On the other side of the door. Whatever they’re talking about, Simon seems to be laughing a lot.

Swithin is staring at his boots. His cheeks are flushed dark. 

“That.” He clears his throat. “That’s my roommate. Gregory.” 

~ 

Baz and Simon hang back and watch Gregory and Swithin buy food. Gregory is fairly vibrating, gesturing broadly with his arms, stabbing at the air to punctuate a point. Swithin is turned towards him, his face a mask of polite, mild interest. His colour is still very high. 

“They’ll be fine, right?” Simon asks. Baz’s hands are cold, so he’s shoved one of them into his pocket, so he can warm them. He likes running his fingers over the familiar edges of Baz’s signet ring. 

“They’re going to be a fucking disaster,” Baz says, as the boys come back bearing armfuls of popcorn and overpriced soda.

Simon grins, cheeky and still infuriatingly handsome. “Those are the best films though, aren’t they? Big disasters, car chases, forest fires. You love the drama.”

Gregory actually stomps his foot. “Come on, go be gay inside the theatre so we can get decent seats.” 

Swithin chokes on a laugh, and then clears his throat to hide it. A small smile lingers on his face, though, and Simon looks at Gregory who is looking at Swithin, as if he’s transfixed. The tip of Gregory’s nose has gone pink, as if he’s got a cold. 

“Let’s,” Simon says, grinning.  “I can’t wait to watch this train wreck."