“I want to try!”
SIMON
That came out wrong. Like a threat. Like an armed robbery.
Baz is looking down at his lap. He pushes a lock of black hair behind his ear.
“It’s okay,” I spit out, trying to reel things back. “I don’t expect—You don’t owe me—”
“Shut up, Snow.”
I shut up.
I think Baz is still crying.
I’m so bad at this. At people. At him. I shouldn’t have come here. I stand up— His hand latches on to my wrist. “Don’t you dare.”
I sit down again. “Okay. Sorry.”
Baz doesn’t let go. His hand is cold. He’s still looking at his lap. “What does that mean?” He sounds careful. “That you want to try?”
“Just what I said. That I want—That I wish I could—That I would like to —” I clench my jaw for a second. “Try. With you. To see … if it could be different.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to give up.”
Baz scowls up at me. “Am I a video game you’re trying to beat?”
“No!”
He pulls on my arm, but doesn’t pull me close. “Then why?”
“Because you were right! I didn’t try. I gave up on us. And I can’t—I can’t live with myself—”
“I don’t care!”
I take Baz’s other hand. By the wrist. He’s holding me back, and I’m holding on to him. “I can’t go on, Baz, knowing that it could have been different!”
“That sounds like another apology.”
I look in his cold, grey eyes. I beg him to understand. I’m growling again, I know it. “I want to … try. Because—Because I love you, Baz. I love you, and I didn’t think that I could keep you. But if there’s a chance … If there’s any chance at all … I can’t—I want—I need—”
Baz’s hand goes slack on my arm.
I let go of him.
I push my palms into my eyes. They’re wet—how long have I been crying? Baz isn’t saying anything, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. I drop my hands and look up at him, desperate for a clue.
Baz’s mouth is slightly open, and his eyebrows have pulled up in the middle. “You … love me?”
BAZ
Snow nods. “Yeah,” he says, “of course.”
Like it’s obvious.
It isn’t obvious. It has not been obvious.
“You never said,” I say.
“Haven’t I?”
“No.”
He frowns. “I thought—I mean … I’ve killed so many things for you.”
I laugh. It might be another sob, but maybe it’s just a laugh. “What are you, a house cat? Am I supposed to know how you feel because you brought me a mouse?”
The corner of Snow’s mouth twitches. “I brought you a cow once, remember? And I killed that chimera for you in fifth year.”
“You killed it near me. There’s a difference.”
He reaches a hand up towards my face, then hesitates.
I hesitate, too—I feel torn in every direction—then I slowly close the distance.
Snow’s thumb connects with my chin. He tucks his knuckles under my jaw.
He swallows, and it’s a whole show. “I do,” he says. “Love you.”
I close my eyes for a moment. Like I’m trying to trap his words in my head. Then I open them again. “What about … everything else?”
“What else?”
“Everything you said last night. About magic.”
“Oh. Well, I meant all of that. I still mean it.”
I shake my head. “Fucking hell, Snow.”
He holds on to my chin. “I don’t want to live in the World of Mages, Baz —I want a Normal life. But maybe we could, like, meet in between?”
“In between.”
“Like, you do your thing. Magic. And I’ll do mine. And we don’t have to talk about it all the time.”
“You said it makes you miserable, that I remind you of everything you’ve lost.”
“Well, I can work on that.”
“Can you?”
“Yeah…” He reaches his fingers up my cheek and sucks one side of his bottom lip into his mouth. （It’s an entire Joni Mitchell song. It’s a Mercury Prize.） “Yeah, ” he says, letting his lip go. “Maybe when I feel that way, I’ll turn it into being glad that I didn’t lose you, as well.”