worst_greatest_one | (no subject)

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I haven't labored over my clothes like this since Watford.

I don't have much money to spend on them, but I've brought home a nice enough pair of shirts, some trousers, and even some used Oxfords that still look nice. I haven't bought a tie, but I think that might be too much anyway. The truth is, I don't know. Agatha and I just sort of sprang into being as a couple.

I've never been on a date before.

I pull off the blue button-up and put it back on the bed. I forgot the undershirt anyway, but before I reach for it, I grab up the bottle of cologne. It's not bergamot and cedar - those are the only scents I could think of when the woman at the counter asked me, so I asked for something specifically not them. This bottle smells of a really fancy, clean forest, which should go well with the smokey smell that never quite leaves me.

I start to tip the bottle against my neck, then stop. Fuck, I forgot how much I'm meant to use.

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I watch his movements blankly, feeling the familiar pang of jealousy creep in. I should be used to it. Usually I am, usually I can push it back and ignore it. I can't help that Snow likes girls, and even I can see that Wellbelove is a perfect match for him. It's not like I expected anything, even if they did break up.

"Moving on from your golden Wellbelove so fast?" I ask, but my tone is lacking. He has taken me a bit by surprise. I don't remember him having dressed like this for her even once. (Actually, I don't think he owns a shirt as nice as the one he's wearing now back home.)

I falter when he mentions Agatha, but it doesn't hurt as much to think of her. She might have rejected me, but Bitty hasn't, and I concentrate on that as I finish buttoning my shirt.

"I may as well," I say eventually. "She doesn't want me. She made that clear enough. I..." I frown, warring with myself for a moment. "You should ask her out, if we ever go home." She deserves to be happy, and Baz is who she wants anyway.

Wellbelove is a bigger fool than I thought.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an attempt at a smile. I'd laugh in contempt, but it's too much effort. "I'm never going to want Agatha, Snow," I say quietly, and go over to my dresser to get my wand. "And she doesn't really want me."

I point my wand at his shirt where it's kinked in a few places. "Wrinkle free!"

"All set, then."

Edited 2015-11-27 03:59 (UTC)

I can't help but flinch when he points his wand at me, but a moment later my shirt is smooth, and I actually smile in gratitude. "Thanks," I murmur, turning to look in the mirror. I really do look nicer than I usually look.

"She does," I say, because no one holds onto someone's handkerchief all summer without a serious crush. "Why wouldn't you want her?" I ask, turning back to Baz. "It's not because of her family, is it?"

"She doesn't," I snap, and move back to my side of the room. I hover by the half wall, because it's safer over here with Snow in that damn shirt smelling like a forest, smiling at me.

"Her family would be perfect for me, Snow, please," I say dryly. The Wellbeloves aren't the most powerful mages, but they're wealthy and not overly supportive of the Mage. Father would be thrilled regardless. "She's just not my type. Leave it."

"How?" I can't help but ask, incredulous. Agatha makes the word beautiful seem inadequate. She's... ethereal. "Agatha is everyone's type. And she's really nice when she's not chucking you, I promise."

"I said drop it!" I say, exasperated. Why does Snow always have to be so insistent? He's incredibly stubborn, and sometimes it's just exhausting. "Stop trying to set me up with your ex-girlfriend. I wouldn't date her if she was the last girl on Earth."

"Why not?" I demand, growing indignant on Agatha's behalf. I feel ridiculous, but angry with him, too, for who does Baz think he is? I follow him to his side of the bedroom. "What's wrong with her?"

She's a girl, I could say.

She's not you, I could say.

But I don't, because no matter how heated it gets between us, those are things I'll never tell him.

I bite the inside of my cheek and count to ten in my head. "She's not who I want," I force out with a fake smile. "Okay? Not that it's any of your business. You don't even like me so stop trying to push me at your ex, unless you're looking to get revenge at her for dumping you."

"I wouldn't do that," I insist, and the thought of it is honestly sickening. However upset I am that Agatha chucked me, I'd never want to hurt her. And if I did, I wouldn't start by pushing her into the arms of my sworn enemy.

"Whatever," I say, because I don't want to talk about this anymore. "I'm going to be late to meet Bitty."

"Indeed." I roll my eyes and sit down on the edge of my bed. Obviously Snow hadn't thought his little scenario through.

I push the hair out my eyes and look up at Snow. I can't help but laugh when he says the name of his new girlfriend. "Bitty? Is she a circus clown or something?" I ask with a smirk.

"It's a nickname," I say with a dangerous glance, because I am seriously not in the mood for Baz to make fun of Bitty. He doesn't deserve that. I jam my feet into my Oxfords and make sure my keys are in my pocket.

"Probably an American thing," I add with a shrug. "His proper name's Eric."

I drop my wand, and I only know I've dropped my wand because I hear the dull thump of it hitting the carpet. I don't move to pick it up. My fingers have gone numb. I swear all the blood has drained from my face. I'm going to have to drink a hundred deer to make up for the blood that has mysteriously left my body.

"His?" I say dumbly.

I look over at the sound of his wand hitting the carpet, and Baz is so pale that I'm at his side before I know it, gripping his elbow before he follows his wand to the floor.

"Sit," I say, dumbfounded, and try pushing him to the foot of my bed. "Are you ill?"

I barely realize Snow is guiding me like a child until I'm somehow sitting on his bed. I touch my hand to my chest; it hurts, it feels tight like I can't catch a breath.

"I'm--" I swallow and breathe and try to get ahold of myself. What's wrong with me? "I'm fine," I force out.

"Fuck," I exhale as he clutches at his chest, "No, you're not." I scramble upright and look around for my wand, finally spying it on my bedstand. I grab it and point it at him.

"Get well soon!" I cast, trying to quell the thunder of my own racing heart. Baz can't be ill. He can't leave me here on my own.

"Fuck, Snow," I bark, the force of his magic feeling like it's re-started my heart. It does seem to have stopped whatever it was that was happening in my chest, but it doesn't erase my confusion, and...

I run a hand through my hair, nostrils flared.

"Since when are you gay?" I just ask, since I'm not going to be able to stop thinking about it. I know I didn't hear him wrong. I know I heard Eric and him.

"I'm not," I say, because I can't help arguing with him, even when I'm half convinced he's dying. He seems to be breathing easier, and I let my wand arm fall, half feeling like I want to keel over myself.

"I don't know what I am," I say after a minute. I seem to be saying that to a lot of people, but it's the truth. I cock my head and study him.

"Are you okay now?"

I don't bother answering his question, I'm not dying, I was just taken by surprise. I haven't eaten, really eaten, since last night. That's all it is.

That's not what I care about.

I glance up at him, but my gaze returns to my knees. "But you...like him? A boy?" I ask, feeling like a right prat once the words have left my mouth, but it's too late to take them back.

"Yeah," I answer, because that, at least, I don't need to think about. I like Bitty. I have from the start. "Is that a problem?" I ask, stomach suddenly bottoming out. Baz dislikes me for so many things - somehow it hadn't occurred to me this might be one of them.

Snow likes a boy. He likes a boy, and it's not me. I know I've never given him a reason to, logically I do realize that, but it still hurts. I can't help that, there's no logic behind my emotions. I mean, it's not like he's ever given me a reason to like him and somehow I fucking fell in love with him anyway.

Fuck.

My throat feels too tight and there's a pressure behind my eyes, and I haven't answered his question.

"No," I say, and get up to return to my apartment, because everything is too much.

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