Chapter Text
Simon Snow was staring at the scones in front of him, wondering if he could eat one, when a boy with a tall figure sauntered into the store. The boy had black hair that flopped over his eyes, which appeared to be a shade of grey. He walked like he owned the place, making Simon immediately feel intimidated. He stalked up to the counter and picked out four different scones, taking his time to look at them all and read the signs intently.
He pointed to the sour cherry scones. "What are those?"
"Those? They're exactly what the card says; sour cherry scones."
"I've never had sour cherry scones, or heard of them."
Simon gasped. Sour cherry scones had been what his diet had entirely consisted of when he was in high school. In fact, they were the only thing that kept him going in high school. He had found them to be a perfect comfort food. Long day? Sour cherry scones. Have a test to study for and need something to eat? Sour cherry scones. Watching that movie that makes you cry for the millionth time? Sour cherry scones. They were the solution for everything. In fact, Simon had discovered there wasn't a problem they couldn't solve, at least, none that he knew of.
"Why do you have a scone shop anyways? Why scones? Why not just a plain bakery? I mean, don't you find it odd?"
"Why would it be odd? Scones are my favorite food and I love baking scones, so I figured, why not just open a scone shop? What do you find weird about my scone shop?"
"I don't know, it's just... odd. You could have opened a regular bakery or a restaurant but you opened a scone shop that only sells scones."
"Well, yes, the point of a scone shop is to only sell scones. I mean, it's called a scone shop. Why would I sell other things?"
"I don't know. I just think it's, well, odd."
"Okay, great. Then don't come to my shop. If you think it's odd, you don't have to be here," Simon snapped.
"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about... I kind of sort of need a job so I can pay my rent, and I was wondering if you were hiring."
Simon thought his eyes were going to roll into the back of his head. This stranger was the type of person who thought everything would be given to him and that he didn't have to work to get what he wanted. "Why would you insult my shop if you were then going to ask to work at my shop? Don't you realize that most employers hire people who are nice and don't insult their shop?" Simon was completely dumbfounded.
"I wanted to know why you started the place. It wasn't rude," the boy rolled his eyes. And then, surprising Simon even more, the boy began to laugh as if something about this situation truly were funny. His laugh was contagious, but Simon refused to give him the pleasure of seeing him laugh as well. The boy then went on to pay for the scones.
Simon watched him walk out, and when he got to the door, he called, "Hey. What's your name?"
"Pitch. Baz Pitch." He winked, and Simon rolled his eyes, feeling a faint blush creep onto his face.
"My name's Simon. Simon Snow."
"Goodbye, Snow," Baz said, and walked out. For some reason, that name sparked something inside of him, as if someone had called him it before, but he couldn't remember any distinct time someone had called him Snow.
Simon sighed, thinking about Baz, who bought four scones for some reason even though most people only bought one, even though people rarely came in, so how would Simon know? However, he let his mind wander to to Baz yet again, finding himself more confused than he had in a very long time. Baz was an enigma, and he planned to figure him out.