Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)

by Rainbow Rowell

“Done!” he shouts, his wings spread wide. “I already told you. Christ I—I tried to tell you! Done … pretending!” “Pretending what?” I shout. Like I don’t know. Like it isn’t already killing me. “Pretending … this, Baz. Us. Pretending I can…”

Actually, simon, you are nkt allowed to break up with baz and he won't let you

I’m dying. I’m dying, this is death. Simon’s in my stomach, he’s in my heart, and he’s punching. “Use your words, Snow. For fuck’s sake.”

Aaassss

(I was never going to survive this. Everything I am is nearly gone. Finish me off, Baz.) “Use your words,” he sneers. (That’s right, that’s my boy.)

He’s wearing jeans and a navy shirt. I think that’s his favourite colour—a blue that’s almost purple. It makes his skin glow like a pearl. His top two buttons are unbuttoned, he never bothers with them anymore. His throat is bright. His throat is mine. There are scars beneath his hairline. I’ve fit my teeth over them.

God I’m not your strongest soldier

He steps into my space. Taller than me. His hand comes up, and I think he’d grab my shirt if I was wearing one. He’s grabbed me like this before. He’s shoved me against a wall. He’s loomed over me,

He’s practically begging to be thrown against the wall, if you’re gonna do this be for fucking real my man

“What have you told me?” He curls his lip. “What have you actually ever told me, Snow?” “That this isn’t working! I’m not a magician!” “And I told you, I don’t care!”

“We don’t mind helping!” I throw my hands up. “You’re not listening—you never listen!” “I always listen!” He jabs a finger at me. “You never talk!” “I’m talking now, all right? I’m telling you. I’m done with magic! I’m done with mages! I can’t—You’re both—I can’t live with you!”

“We don’t have to live together, Simon. We don’t live together.”

can’t even be with you! I hate it.” “You hate being with me?” “Yes, all right?” I’m screaming. “Are you happy? I hate being with you! I hate your fucking wand! I hate how easy it all is for you! I hate looking at you!”

TAKE IT BACK SNOW

“You hate looking at me.” God, yes, I do. I do. I hate the sight of him. All I see is what I’ve lost—who I was. His match. Someone who might someday deserve him.

I thought I was being patient. I thought he was getting better. I thought we were in love … … though he’s never said so. “I like you,” he said once. “I like this.” But that was before. When he still had magic.

Sobs

he told me I was all he had left to lose. I thought that meant that he wouldn’t let me go. But maybe Snow was trying to tell me his plans:

I thought we had the sort of love that you can’t set down or walk away from. An undying fire. The love you hear about in the old stories. No one told Simon Snow the old stories.

No. I step forward. His head jerks up. “You can’t just decide that you’re done with me,” I say. “That’s not what we are.”

Come on baz, fight for your man

don’t care about magic!” I do care, I care passionately. But I’d give my magic to the Humdrum to fix this. “That’s a lie,” Simon says. I pull my wand out of my sleeve and hold both ends. “I’ll break it, Snow. I don’t care. I don’t need it. Not like I—

My face hangs over his. I’ve been yelling. I’ve been angry. But now I’m just … “Please,” I say, so quietly. “Please, Simon. Don’t do this.”

“Baz…” I whisper. He presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this to me, love.” “I have to.”

My heart

“No, Simon. No. We can’t come apart like this. We’re not made of pieces that come apart.” “Baz—” “You can’t just give up on this. On me.

When Baz gets like this with me … When he hands me his heart, I don’t know how to hold it. I want to scream. I want to run.

This is raw

“Baz…” I’m still whispering. “I can’t be with you.” “Because of magic?” His voice breaks on the last word. “Because of me. I was never going to make this work.” “Fuck.” He shudders. “You’re killing me, Snow.”

I look back at Simon one more time. “I never thought I’d be the first thing you ever gave up on.”

I’m doing exactly what I’d like to do: I’m lying in bed, watching cat videos and ignoring Ginger’s text messages,

Simon I actually think you and agatha make a great pair, baz was too much for you anyway

Simon glances up at me, then folds his arms over his chest—as if I haven’t seen him like this before. I mean, I suppose I haven’t. Not with the wings. And Simon’s thicker now than he used to be. I can’t see his ribs. But I know all this golden skin … I’ve counted these moles.

It’s a strange feeling to look at someone’s chest and know it’s nothing to do with you anymore, but still to remember kissing every inch. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says. “Sorry,” I say. “I can go.” “No,” he says. “Please.”

Simon squeezes my hands. “It’s all right, Agatha.” It isn’t all right. He’s trembling. Simon doesn’t tremble. “He’s clearly uncomfortable.”

Agatha. I’m sorry. You know?” Oh. No. Not now. Not … Now I’m shaking my head. And I’m crying. For heaven’s snakes and hell’s, too—I told myself I was done crying over Simon Snow.

He holds a hand out to me, and what am I supposed to do, not take it? He reels me in close. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Stop.” I’m still crying. “Agatha, I—”

“Simon, I beg you, please don’t choose now to start talking a...

Why should he remember that part? Why should one near-death experience stand out from all the others?

“Hello, Basil, you look wretched.” My aunt sails past me into the kitchen.

She didn’t come home last night. Which means there was no one here to tell me to get up and wash my face and stop listening to the same James Blake song again and again.

I’ve been reliving all of it, our whole story. Every night I stayed awake to watch him fall asleep, every time I threw a punch just to touch his face …

Punch me I'd hurt less

“You really do look frightful,” she says, still chewing. “Do you need to, you know…” I need to replace every single person in my life with someone more functional, is what I need.

So true baz so true

“Do I need to what?” “You know…” she says. Is my aunt asking me if I need to get laid? She pushes her eye teeth over her bottom lip. “You know.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

NOOO JAJAJAJAJAJ no puedo

“Just looking out for you. No need to get chippy.” “No, I don’t need to you know.” I do, actually, but this isn’t something we just talk about.

I cackled

“Right then, I’m off.” “But you just got here.” “I came by to check on you, and now I have. You look a mess.”

Omg

Drink your tea, and mind your business.” She turns back to me. “And—” “Don’t say it.” “Eat something.” She winks.

NAhh

Fiona let me move in here after I left Watford. Simon and I didn’t want to live together; that seemed premature—even though we’d shared a single room for eight years. Maybe that’s why it seemed like a bad idea. Some distance seemed prudent.

Still … I didn’t expect to be sleeping in my aunt’s flat every night. I didn’t expect to become so accustomed to the night bus back to Chelsea.

Simon needed time. He needed care. He still startled at bright lights and sudden noises. And prolonged eye contact. He’d get jumpy when we were alone together. He’d actually shudder if I touched him too softly—and not a good shudder.

kdajjd

On the worst days, on the even worse nights, I used to think about all the bad things that have happened to Simon—just the ones I know about. And then I’d wonder about all the terrible things that have happened to him that I don’t know about.

How long would it take for those painful memories to die back? Or, at least, to wither? I’d wait. I was going to wait.

my heart

“You’re in my blood, you’re my holy wine. You taste so bitter and so sweet.” That’s the part that hurts the most, and I’ve decided that it helps to hurt the most. It sort of maxes out my nerve endings.

Seriously, fuck off. I turn up the music. I have to use a spell to do it, because the speakers are already at their limit.

Oh—my favourite part is coming around again. Sing it, James. “You’re in my blood, you’re my holy—”

Basil… jajjajjajaja

“Oh. Snow. You’re still here. I expected you to run and hide as soon as my back was turned.” I lift my chin. “I deserve that.” “You deserve worse. Why are you here?”

He did not come to play

“I came to tell you something.” He huffs. “You’ve already told me enough.” “Baz—” “Unless you’ve thought of another way to say that you don’t want to be with me.”

stab me

“Because that would be unnecessary, Snow. Message received!” “I’m sorry!” “Also unnecessary!” “Baz!”

“I don’t care that you’re sorry! Do you understand that, Simon? It makes no difference to me whether you feel regret or not! You’re sorry? What do I care? What can I do with that? You came here to tell me you’re sorry?”

“Listen—” “Listen? I have been listening. I’ve spent the last year listening, and you didn’t have anything to say to me. You couldn’t assemble a complete sentence until you’d already left me. And now you’re back to say you’re sorry? Guess what? ...