Don't Leave Me

Don't Leave Me:: Part 2

What in Crowley's name is Baz up to?

I feel like I'm back at Watford-- back in the days when Baz and I were still enemies. When I constantly thought he was up to something. And I hate it. All I want is for Baz to kiss me like he normally does, or to hold my hand without acting like he'd rather not be. It's hurting me in ways I promised myself he would never hurt me; battering and bruising my heart. Throwing it around my ribcage like a grenade. Or a ball in arcade game.

He's doing that right now. For the first time this week, he let me hold his hand. It's in his jacket pocket now. Our fingers are hopelessly tangled together, but he's not acknowledging the fact that it's there; normally, he'll subconsciously play with my fingers or rub his thumb in lazy, comforting circles across the back of my hand. Now, the other boy's fingers are cold and still around mine. Penny walks on my other side, turning up her collar against the wind.

"Blech. It's raining cats and dogs out here. Remind me, why did I agree to come with you two?" She complains. I agree with her, but Baz shakes his head.

"The weather doesn't matter, Bunce. We're taking you on the most damnably British tour of London you've ever been on," he disputes. I raise an eyebrow.

"We are?" For the first time since we came outside, Baz looks at me. That gleam-- that disconcerting, unfamiliar gleam-- in his eyes once more.

"Yes, Snow. We are," he says, an air of finality to his voice. I smile wryly.

"If we're going to visit the Queen, I should probably do the patriotic thing and tell her about the books you stole in our eighth year..." I tease. This finally draws a tiny smile onto Baz's lips.

"Ha-bloody-ha, Snow. I suppose I should tell her how you nearly destroyed all magic in the UK, then?" he jests back. I laugh a little, my chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. Not because of what he said-- because he's acting so strangely, and because I'm only now, after a week of almost total estrangement, getting him to smile. It makes me feel like I'm going to cry, and that pisses me off. I hate crying. I hate it when I feel like I'm becoming The One That Cries in our relationship.

"How about flying without a permit?" Penny adds, smiling. Baz laughs, and it's so good. So wonderfully good to hear him laugh again. For the millionth time, I wonder what's going on with him.

"Or eating butter with a spoon-- is that a crime? It should be," he supplies. Penny laughs harder.

"I'm sure to the Queen it would be. And we should probably bring up all of the fires he's caused, that dog you stole..." she turns to me, grinning from ear to ear. It makes her brown eyes crinkle merrily. Penny always looks younger than she actually is, but nothing brings it out in her more than laughing or smiling. "Really, the list of your crimes goes on for ages, Simon."

I smile, too, and I'm laughing harder than I've laughed in a long while. I push at Penelope's arm.

"Shove off, you two, you're mean," I say, mock-complaining and still smiling brightly. Penny just laughs more and ruffles my already messy curls.

"Sorry, Simon. We're just messing with you. You know we love you," she says, her voice still light and teasing. Baz smiles and leans in, kissing my cheek, right on the mole he won't usually leave alone (not that I'm complaining. When he kisses me there, I feel like I can reach up and touch the moon. Or slay it. Or grab hold and pull it down to earth just for him). It surprises me-- he hasn't done anything like that to me for at least a week.

"Bunce is right, Snow. As much as I hate to admit it," his voice is softer than usual, and it's infuriating. Aleister Crowley, if he knew how much I just want him to stop everything and kiss me... "You're our favourite ex-villain." I manage a laugh.

"Gee, thanks..."

________

Baz stays true to his word and takes us on the coldest, most tourist-like tour of London I've ever been on. We go to The Eye (though we don't actually ride it-- the qeue's too long, even in this weather. What's wrong with these people?), we go to Big Ben, and the Tower of London, where we go on a disgustingly, horrifically gruesome tour. Something about torture devices must strike us as funny, though, because we all get the giggles part of the way through the visit and are asked (politely, but firmly) to leave by a wizened old security guard with ear hair long enough to braid. Anyway, there's a Starbucks down the street, and we take the roundabout way; walking slowly along the Thames.

The wind has started to shriek at us, and flecks of ice off the river beside us stings my face like miniature shards of glass. It's cold out; that wet, slippery cold that crawls into your bones and stays there, making you feel like you're freezing to death from the inside out. I press against Baz's side as our feet slosh through the puddles, trying to gain every ounce of warmth that I can from him. To my (slight) surprise, he let's me. I even feel his weight pressing back against mine, holding me up and tying me down. My chin tips up, and I press a quick kiss onto his cheek. One corner of his mouth tips up in a reluctant-looking smile. For the first time in at least a week, he seems happy to acknowledge my existence.

On my other side, Penelope sighs. I glance over at her, afraid something's wrong. Her head is bowed, and she's looking at the small, leather-banded watch on her wrist. Her dark curls whip around her face in the wind, catching at her eyes and lips.

"What's up, Penny?" I ask, the gusts practically tearing the words from my cold, chapped lips. She shakes her head, looking up at me. Her pretty, dark eyes are big and sad; an expression I'm not used to seeing on her face.

"After Starbucks, I have to leave. Mum and Dad want me to come home for my last night, sleep at their place. It's inconvenient-- what with last minute packing and all that jazz, but... It's my parents. S'not like I can very well say no to them, you know?" She replies, her voice just as sad as her eyes.

My own eyes skitter down to the pavement. That now-familiar, dejected feeling worming its way into my gut. Burrowing deep and making itself at home in the very bottom of my worry-toiled stomach.

"Oh..." Is all I can manage. Beside me, I hear Baz's hair rustle against his coat collar as he nods.

"Well, then, looks like the Madly English Tour is cancelled, then. Probably a good thing, too. The weather's horrid," though his voice is more subdued than it was, his eyes light up, like he's got an idea. He grins mischievously-- deviantly-- at Penny, "I do have one idea, before you leave..." Penny shakes her head, obviously fighting down a smile.

"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, if you're about to suggest we get on a lorry bus--" She warns. Laughter bubbles its way up from Baz's lips, and his eyes are sparkling.

"Oh, come on, Bunce, don't be a killjoy."

"It's less than a block away!" she argues, giving in to the smile. It spreads across her lips, working its age-defying magic and making her eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Then we'll just go round the block again!" I chime in, laughing. Baz grins, showing off his gleaming white teeth.

"Hear, hear! I second Snow's notion. All those in favour say 'aye'!" He giggles. We're all laughing now, forgetting all about the weather and the circumstances. Every care melting away like the last of this winter's snow.

"Aye!" I say. Penny lets out a mock groan, giving in.

"Fine, we can take a lorry bus. But I blame you two for global warming. You're killing the planet with all of your insistent petrol usage," she agrees. It sends Baz and I into a fresh fit of giggles, and she joins in.

After a bit, Baz shakes his head, teeth still flashing in a grin.

" Well, come on then. We've got ourselves a bus to catch."

----------------to be continued--------------------------------------------

A note from the author:

Hey guys, Lefty here! Please leave a comment below to tell me what you think of Don't Leave Me so far! Keep calm and carry on :)