If You Must Wake

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A note from the author-

To the people around the world who have been touched by the catastrophic events of 2017; my heart goes out to you. To the folks in Catalonia and to the Kurds; to the families and the people in Las Vegas; to the people of Puerto Rico; to the people of Mexico; to everyone who has a new scar on their heart because of the shit that's been happening all over the world, my heart goes out to you. I love you all, and I want you to know that you will forever be in my thoughts. Stay strong, stay united <3

Yours sincerely,




When I wake up the next morning I've got a horrible backache. My wings and tail finally faded away last New Year's, but I get bad muscle cramps where my wings once attached. None of us really know why, exactly. But then again, none of us know why the fuck we couldn't get rid of them in the first place.

I must let out a grunt of pain, because Baz opens his eyes. His pearly grey gaze, softened by sleep, settles on me, then flicks to my back. I feel my face go bright red up to the roots of my knotted hair.

"C'mere," he whispers, raising a hand and brushing it down my chest. Goosebumps prickle up my arms, and I melt into the touch. Laying down on my side, my face close to his, I reach up to brush his sleep-tousled dark hair out of his eyes. A small smile tugs at one corner of his lips at the gesture, and I can't help myself; tilting my chin forward, I press my lips to his, my fingers loosely holding his chin. He puts his hands on my stomach, and even though they're colder than ice, heat radiates from the places where his skin pushes against mine. Those familiar lips kiss me back softly, slowly; like he's trying to make it last. And I want it to last. I want to stay in this moment-- kissing Baz in the blue-grey light of a winter morning, protected from the chilled air by a pile of warm blankets-- forever.

Baz pulls away slowly, just far enough so that he can speak.

"Is your back hurting you again?" He murmurs, tracing his cold fingers along my chest and stomach. Nodding, I close my eyes, savouring the feeling of his fingertips against my skin.

"Yeah," I breathe, grimacing a little as another spike of pain shoots through the muscles in my back. Baz presses a kiss against my collarbone.

"Turn onto your other side." I do, wincing a little, my eyes now focusing on the photo-covered wall in front of me. Photos of me and Baz; photos of he and I and Penny; photos of just him; photos of just me. It's my favourite wall in the flat. 'The wall of memories', Baz calls it.

I stare at my favourite photographs on the wall. There's a candid one I took of Baz; he's perched on the counter, his legs tucked up to his chest, a cup of tea clutched in his hands, watching the rain outside the window. One Penny took of us, curled up on the couch together, fast asleep (we'd been out Christmas shopping all day and passed out as soon as we sat down). So many smiles; so many memories.

Baz's fingers massage my back, pulling me from my reverie. They knead at the knots, slowly pulling them apart; taking away the pain. I close my eyes, letting out a breath I didn't I was holding. The boy behind me presses a quick kiss against my shoulder, continuing to work at the knots in my back. His fingers move over a particularly sore spot and I tense up, scrunching up my nose. He doesn't hesitate; just works a little more gently until the spot feels better.

I let him work at my back in silence until he's finished, which only takes him a few minutes. Once he's done I flip back over so I'm facing him again.

"Thank you," I tell him gratefully. He smiles at me, kissing the tip of my nose.

"You're welcome," he replies, eyes sparkling. I grin at him.

"Where would I be without you?"

"Well, for starters, you'd probably be dead, not to mention hopelessly straight..." he drawls sarcastically. Laughing, I flick his arm. He beams and flicks me back. Giggling, I lean into him, tangling my fingers in his hair and bringing my lips to his.

"I love you," I murmur against his warm mouth. Smiling like a fiend, Baz wraps his arms around me, fingers brushing just beneath my pyjama bottoms, skating along my hips. Sending shivers up my spine.

"I love you too," he replies, kissing me back.

We stay like this for a long, long time; wrapped up in each other like the lovesick schoolboys we are.

It's bloody perfect.

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