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I was not even surprised to find Simon asleep when I came back. He won’t talk to me about it at all, but I know the bullying has only gotten worse since he started dating me. I hate that he gets messed with and I don’t. I’m lucky to have such a supportive team that won’t let anyone they even think might be homophobic near me, but… Simon.
Simon isn’t intimidating (and neither are his friends, even though Leah tries really hard to be), with his smaller stature and thin body. Well, he is for me, but to a few assholes looking for a good laugh, my boyfriend is the perfect target.
Simon hasn’t been sleeping well, so I don’t disturb him. I curl up on the floor with Bieber and my Algebra homework. Bieber keeps getting bored and licking my wrists, so I am pretty much forced to abandon my homework.
“You’re just as bad as Simon.” I grin, rubbing the dog’s belly. Bieber’s leg is kicking in happiness and it just makes me smile more. I was never around animals much because both my parents were severely allergic, so getting to know Bieber has been a bit of a challenge. Just like Simon, though, he wormed his way into my heart shamelessly.
I hear a sleepy sigh and know immediately, warmth already flooding me from head to toe, that Simon is at least semi-awake, and watching us.
“Careful, Simon.” I murmur, a teasing tone slipping into my words. “You take too many naps and I might steal your dog. Or he might steal me, isn’t that right, Bieber?”
The retriever sneezes lightly as if in response, looking like he is in heaven from all the tummy rubs. I glance up at Simon, not ceasing my movements, through my eyelashes to see him trying to smother the dopiest smile with a concerned frown. He tries hard to look thoughtful for a few moments, “Well, I suppose if I have to cede to someone, it should be Bieber.”
My jaw drops a bit in two parts mock offense, one part disappointment, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Aw, come on, Si. You won’t even try to win me back over?”
“Don’t have to. You’ll see me eating Oreos without you and come right back.” Simon beamed, sleepy thickness contorting his words and the image is so cute, I can’t stay on the floor.
My heart is pounding as I climb into bed with Simon, the boy not protesting in the slightest. It’s not the first time we’ve napped together, but every time, I half expect Simon to kindly ask me to sleep elsewhere. (I’m a bit of a bed-hog, but it’s not my fault.) Simon instead snuggles eagerly into my side the moment I’m settled, burrowing his head against my chest. I want to hold him so badly, I think my heart will actually beat itself into implosion. So really, the only option is to pull him in my arms. He makes this content sound in the back of his throat and I’m not even sure he’s still awake but he’s so precious I can’t even believe my luck.
Bieber, of course gets very jealous of anyone stealing attention away from him and whines, pawing at our blanket-covered ankles. I laugh quietly, trying to keep still to let Simon sleep. “Go lay down, Bieber.”
He does as I say (he listens to me more than with Simon and it’s incredible fun to remind my boyfriend of.), jumping off to curl on his dog bed and stare up at us with his sad-puppy brown eyes. I’ve got to practice that look to use on Simon because Bieber is totally ripping my heart up. Not that I can ever beg Simon for anything because I’m always too busy getting lost in his eyes.
Simon stirs slightly, nuzzling against me and I suddenly could not care less what the dog wants because moving away from this ridiculously adorable boy is never going to happen in a million years. Bieber whines softly, giving up with a sigh, and closes his eyes to nap. Simon is definitely sleeping now because he’s snoring lightly against my chest. It’s more of a soft noise in the back of his throat that is so comforting to hear and so regular, it almost lulls me to sleep.
I’m half asleep when a new sound disrupts the rhythm of Simon’s snoring. It’s a high whining that I think is Bieber until I see the deep-set frown furrowing Simon’s face. Even though I know people can’t move while they’re dreaming, I swear Simon holds me tighter. He looks so upset that I have a half a mind to wake him up. The only thing that stops me is the knowledge that he is so exhausted from how little sleep he’s gotten that he has been falling asleep all day. He needs this rest, even if it’s a nightmare. Which leaves me trying to figure out if nightmares give the same amount of energy as regular dreams do.
I learned in my psych class last year that REM is when all the healing happens and the body prepares for the next day, so logically as long as he’s dreaming he should still feel well-rested. However, the brain is weird and psychology is such an iffy science, that it’s quite possible nightmares will have the opposite effect.
It’s not an easy choice for me. I want him to be happy and he looks so distraught, muttering to himself incoherently; however, at the same time I want him to be healthy and sleep is so important to that.
Before I can make a decision he’s snapping awake, shoving me away harshly, as he cries out something I don’t make out in my surprise at his sudden movements. He pants heavily, blinking quickly as he gets his bearings, looking instantly guilty when he sees me. The guilt passes instantly, though, morphing into heart-stopping relief, tears pricking his eyes. I’m engulfed in a tight embrace before I even have time to try to ask him anything, his body trembling against mine.
“Hey, Simon.
Simon
,” I murmur against his hair, holding him and trying to radiate comfort as best as possible, “it’s okay. Everything’s fine. We’re both safe; it was just a dream.”
Simon shakes his head against my shoulder, and I realize he’s crying. He
hates
crying in front of me. I’ve never figured out why, but apparently his fear is too great for him to resist it right now. I can tell instantly how vulnerable he is and shut up. He doesn’t want to hear the ‘it’s just a dream’ bull. He just wants me to hold him. So I do.
I kiss the top of his head, run one of my hands through his hair soothingly in a motion towards his chin so I can guide him into looking at me.
“Hey. Look at me, angel.” We usually use ‘baby’ for our pet names, but somehow I don’t think he wants me to use it right now. Something tells me he would take it as me mocking him for crying, so I get creative. I kiss his forehead and wipe away his tears. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He bites his lip, eyes still watery and it actually destroys me to see him looking so broken up. “I… You… were getting…” he takes a deep, shaky breath that sounds like a sob near the end and I almost stop him, everything inside me demanding I take all the pain away and just hold him, but I don’t because I can tell he
needs
to share, “b-beaten up by some assholes from school, I don’t remember who, but I c-couldn’t help you… because they, they were holding me… they made…” Simon can’t finish but I don’t need him to. I understand too well.
He can handle getting bullied even if it fucking sucks.
If it was me… He would be about as torn up about it as I am about it happening to him, if not more. And I want to start crying too because I never help him. It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m dying to beat those jackasses into the mud, but Simon never tells me a thing. And they somehow always get to him when I’m not there.
“Simon.” I whisper, not knowing what to say.
He shakes his head again, and then he’s kissing me. I want to push him away, but it’s not needy, hungry, like he’s trying to distract me. It’s slow and makes my head spin a little and I know all too well that he’s seeking comfort. I reciprocate the best I can, needing a little comfort myself. Slow, sweet, gentle kisses are my favorite. Even though sometimes he makes me so hazy with want that I just want to kiss his face off, there’s something special about taking it slow. It’s soft and creates this bubble just for the two of us that no one can get into. We can’t kiss like this in public. If we want to kiss in public, it’s either quick, stealthy pecks (usually on a cheek or tip of the nose) or desperate two-second snogging where we all but absorb each other.
This kind of kissing is safe. I feel so warm with him pressing slightly into me, hands clutching my hair like a lifeline, like he’ll fall off the face of the Earth if some part of him isn’t touching me. I’m left wondering how someone can possibly hate something so pure. How can anyone want to hurt him for feeling like this? When he is upset, he wants me, a boy, to hold him and take that pain away, and it’s so innocent and magic, I can’t understand why people find it so revolting. It’s sort of hard to take in that he trusts me so much, but I could never get it being gross, or sinful.
Bieber senses the distress and perks up, watching us for a minute. I see him when I pull back for air and he decides to bound towards us and take my role of comforter. He licks all over Simon’s face until the boy is laughing hard, trying to push his dog off. The retriever, however, is not satisfied, insisting that he must cover Simon’s face in slobber in order to make everything better.
I’m laughing softly watching as Simon slowly cheers up. When Bieber finally ends his assault on Simon’s face, he turns to me and I hold my hands up in a preemptive attempt to protect myself. This only makes Simon laugh harder and I’m sort of proud for making him laugh at all.
“Can Bieber cuddle with us?” I beg trying out those puppy-dog eyes and I can practically see Simon melt and it makes me feel weirdly powerful to know that I have control over this.
“Fine, but if he gets all your attention, I’m putting him outside.” Simon rolls his eyes, but I know he rally does appreciate his dog’s presence.
“You two have to stop fighting over me.” I huff, curling into Simon’s side and watching Bieber circle a few times before settling down against my stomach.
“I’ll never stop fighting for you, Bram.” I hear Simon whisper in a breath against my neck and wonder if he even intended for me to hear him.
I glance down to see his slightly-bloodshot eyes widen when he realizes I have indeed heard him. He sets his jaw defensively. “Well, it’s true, Blue. I worked too hard to get such a hot boyfriend to give him up now.”
“I thought you said you’d cede to Bieber just a few minutes ago.” I remind him teasingly, pretending him using my pen name or calling me hot doesn’t make me so stupidly happy that I almost can’t get the words out.
He frowns. “Only if something drastic happened. Like you suddenly realized you had a weird animal fetish or I died or something.”
My face heats up and I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water as words escape me. “Well, I doubt either will happen any time soon, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I love you, Bram.” Simon says, and it’s a little out of nowhere, but fits so well, giddy warmth soaking through my skin from his words all the way through my muscles, into my bones and blood until every part of me consists of those four words, consumed by them.
I want to say them too, and have before, but I can’t stop grinning like an idiot long enough to get them out. I know he knows anyways, but I try to school my face because I like saying it. I know he thinks he’s out of my league or whatever, (despite my insistence of it being quite the opposite) so I get a kind of joy in reminding him that he has all my love and has more than earned it.
“I love you too, Simon Spier.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’d been a decent while since he’d actually been properly beaten up, so he wasn’t really ready for such a hard blow to the jaw, which is why he landed on his ass. The bullies typically preferred public humiliation: screwing with morning announcements, calling out insults in the hallway, and making crude remarks in class (to which ninety percent of teachers just said, “Alright, settle down). Everyone else, people Simon never knew before he’d come out (but had come to recognize and attempt to avoid) would get inappropriate with him, mocking attempts to kiss him or other nonsense he wasn’t remotely comfortable with to get a laugh from their friends.
Today however, maybe they were looking to boost their egos or some bullshit, but they were ganging up on him, five against one
(because why fight fair). The second he was on the ground, cruel laughter and leering insults flooding his ears, a kick was aimed at his stomach. He supposed it was a little his fault for leaving himself open to such an attack, but he was rather taken aback by this assault.
They didn’t many more blows in before Simon heard Garrett Laughlin’s voice and his stomach did this funny thing where it sank in total dread while his mind flooded with relief.
The attack was after school and Simon had been on his way to the soccer field to watch the team (Bram) practice. Abby usually accompanied him, but she was home sick today and the bullies took advantage of Simon’s lack of witnesses in any decent vicinity. Maybe Bram got worried. The boy was smart, he knew Simon came every day after school to ogle his boyfriend’s soccer calves. He also knew Simon was hassled regularly and probably put two and two together.
Someone helped Simon to his feet and he lurched forward, chest heaving as the world spun. He groaned, finding himself leaning heavily on his unidentified helper. “Simon, hey, Simon?” the voice was soft, and trembling with poorly concealed fury, clearly trying to focus on Simon and not his attackers. Bram.
Simon blinked blearily at him, watching Bram slowly swim into focus. Bram held him tightly, checking him for injury. Simon could feel the boy shaking like a goddamn leaf and could only imagine how hard he must be fighting the urge to beat the others to a pulp.
The rest of the soccer team apparently had it handled anyways. It was ten against five. How’s that for fair? Simon would have laughed at the turn of events if he wasn’t dealing with badly bruised ribs and frustration at Bram getting involved despite his relief.
“If you ever mess with our boy again, we’ll give you a lot worse than that.” Garrett was saying to the fleeing bullies. The team retreated back to the field, leaving Laughlin, Bram, and Simon alone.
Simon was too busy gathering himself to get really fucking pissed to bother wondering where their coach was in all this. Garrett paused for a moment before apparently realizing Bram wanted him to leave so he turned away, following his team.
Bram brought them to the closest curb so Simon could rest and it gave him time to take in Bram’s bleeding knuckles. He was so going to say something about that.
Bram settled in beside him and Simon waited for him to say something, but Bram didn’t seem to have anything to say. Simon could feel the words spewing out of his mouth and hated himself a little, because he wasn’t actually mad. He just didn’t want Bram involved. Because if Bram got involved, he could get hurt too and Simon couldn’t ever let that happen.
“So what the fuck was that?” Simon demanded, turning on his boyfriend. “You just made everything ten times worse.”
Bram blinked at Simon, eyes growing wide, and leaned just a little away from him as Simon kept going.
“They’re going to say something to the principal and you guys could get in so much trouble! And my ass is fucking screwed. What do you think you were doing?”
“Keeping someone I care about from being fucking hurt, Simon.” Bram’s voice didn’t get loud, but the hurt and offense was palpable without volume.
“You should have stayed out of it.” Simon retorted, pretending he didn’t just hear Bram swear because Bram didn’t swear. Which meant this was not going to be pretty.
“No, I shouldn’t have. I should have gotten involved a lot sooner but you never talk to me. And if you’re going to pretend for a second if the roles were reversed you and your friends wouldn’t have intervened-”
“Of course we would have!” Simon protested.
“Then what’s the difference, Simon? You think you deserve to get beat up but I don’t? You think I’m just okay with seeing you get hurt? It tears me up, Simon.” Bram’s voice was unsteady, cracking in places, and Simon knew instantly from the way his words warbled at the end that Bram was crying before the tears showed up.
Simon bit his lip hard, hating himself all the more. “No. I… I just… I couldn’t take it if they hurt you too.” He took Bram’s wounded hand into his own to make his point. “They’re going to get back at you for this. And I hate that this even happened because I love your hands and… what if something broke and-” He was crying too now. Shit.
“I don’t care. I don’t care. I’m glad I hit whoever it was. I’m pretty sure I broke their nose, too. I can handle myself, Simon. And I can’t stand to watch you go through this alone. I… I need you to talk to me.”
Simon glanced up at Bram’s face and that was pretty much the end of any arguments he had. Not a single particle of him could plausibly be cruel to Bram when he looked so desperate and helpless.
“I-I’m sorry.” He whispered, leaning forward until his head was pressed against Bram’s chest.
Arms were wrapped around him carefully, trying to not cause any more pain to Simon’s injured body.
“Simon, I love you. And I want to protect you. I’m not dumb enough to think that I can beat up every person to try to cause you harm, and I don’t want to even though it makes me so angry I can hardly think straight.” And if this wasn’t such a serious moment, Simon would be making a joke about how Bram never thought
straight.
“But… I still want you to tell me about it. You can’t keep holding this all to yourself because I can’t not see how much it’s hurting you to hold it in. You just got a huge secret off your chest, don’t start holding your breath again. I’m here for you. I promise to control my anger if you’ll just… just
talk
to me,
please.”
Just about everything in Simon wanted to kiss Bram until he felt safe and everything was okay again. But a kiss wasn’t going to fix anything and Bram needed words, so Simon was going to have to muster them up even though it was easier for him to describe it through actions.
“Okay. Okay. I promise. Can you just take me home, or are you going to be in trouble if you don’t go back?” Simon managed, pulling away to look up at him.
Bram chuckled. “Yeah, Coach is turning a blind eye to things today.”
Simon decided Bram’s coach was just as much a fucking godsend as Ms. Albright.
****
They curled up on Simon’s couch together after Simon paid Nora to leave the house for a few hours to walk Bieber or some other excuse. Bram’s hand was wrapped with some gauze and an ice pack retrieved from the freezer. Bram held the ice pack to Simon’s middle as they spooned, Simon keeping a book open so Bram could read the chapter for them out loud.
He would have thought it’d be hard to focus with Bram being the one reading, because Bram’s voice was so damn charming. However, Bram was an excellent reader. He got super into it, and Simon reasoned he could be a decent actor if he wanted. It was easier for Simon to listen to him read then it ever was for him to try to read it on his own.
Besides, it meant he got to cuddle Bram and there was no saying no to that in a million years. And whenever Bram needed a break from reading, he’d start pressing soft little kisses to the back of Simon’s neck and shoulders until Simon was falling over himself to drop the book ASAP and press his mouth to Bram’s.
When the last page of the assigned reading was finished, Simon dropped the book and stood to let Bram stretch out and pretended he wasn’t watching the way Bram’s jersey rode up, showing off a perfect sliver of that Simon very very badly wanting to touch and kiss. Bram gave him a knowing smile and gestured for Simon to lay back down.
Bram fell asleep with Simon’s head resting on his chest, hand in Simon’s hair where it had been slowly running his fingers through it. Simon watching him breath steadily for awhile before his own eyelids grew heavy and he was asleep too.
***
A hand shook him gently awake and Simon found himself looking into his mother’s eyes. “Morning, Mom.” he smiled groggily.
It took him a moment to take in his dad standing with his arms crossed, a strange expression playing on his features, and Nora behind him with the biggest smirk in the history of the world. And that’s when Simon registered where he was and who was holding him and he stiffened, wondering if his mother was cruel enough to have woken Bram too. He felt every muscle in Bram’s body go rigid and went ahead and supposed she really was.
“Nice nap? I see you were very productive with your homework.” She said, standing upright.
“Gatsby has a room full of shirts that he throws at Daisy to show how much he loves her or something.” Simon retorts, closing his eyes, because even though he is embarrassed he a) doesn’t want to move and b)isn’t about to lose this fight.
“Touché.” Simon’s dad shrugged.
And if they saw the painful bruise on Simon’s jaw, they wait until later to bring it up when Bram isn’t there.
“Will you be joining us for dinner, Bram?” Mrs. Spier asked as she made her way into the kitchen. Mr. Spier and Nora both seemed bored by the lack of events and went elsewhere.
Bram choked behind Simon and manages to inform her that he would love to. Simon snuggled into Bram’s chest a little spitefully and decided to sleep until dinner was ready and Bram gave in even though Simon knew he was beyond embarrassed.