Simon Snow and Basilton Grimm-Pitch; the self-proclaimed super villain that almost ate up all magic and the world's friendliest, least-bloodthirsty vampire. Together they make a bit of an odd couple, but there is no doubt that they are desperately...
Not in a normal way, either. It's like how Simon Going Off always made me feel-- buzzing and heavy all at once. That bone-deep weariness you can't shake after being ill that makes you want nothing more than to lay down in your mum's arms and sleep for a long, long time.
So much has happened in the past seventy-two hours alone, it's a wonder I'm still on my feet. I think I only let Simon take my car because I'm too emotionally and physically exhausted to argue (that and I'm nearly as worried about Baz as Simon is).
Poor Simon. I just--
I just want the world to leave him alone, for a little while. He deserves a break. Both he and Baz do.
With a sigh, I push open the door to my room, rubbing at my eyes with the heels of my hands. Lights and colours pop across the dark behind my eyelids.
"Sorry about that, Agatha, Simon-- Agatha?" I stop in my tracks, staring down at Agatha in her sleeping bag.
For a moment, I think she's been hexed. Those light brown eyes are bulging and wide open. Her mouth hangs in a comical 'o', her jaw practically touching her chest.
I rush over to her, crouching down beside her.
"Agatha? What's the matter?" I ask frantically, gripping her shoulder. Slowly, as if in a trance, she turns and faces me.
"It's... Simon," She replies incredulously, shoving something into my hands. I peer down at it.
It's a photograph. Of Watford. Of a girl with yellow-blonde hair and bright blue eyes standing next to--
"Is that the Mage?" Agatha nods her head, pushing the photo closer to my face.
"Yes, it's him and his girlfriend-- that's unimportant! Penny look." She jumps up, snatching a framed photo of Simon and Baz and I off of my dresser, practically throwing it at me.
Holding the two pictures side by side, I look more closely at them.
Then something clicks, and all of the air leaves my lungs in one big whoosh. The two photos drop out of my hands, thudding gently onto Agatha's sleeping bag. I hardly even notice.
"Simon," I breathe, "Oh my God, Agatha..."
I pick up the first picture, staring at it, barely believing my eyes.
Because if you look closely, the Mage and his girlfriend look an awful lot like Simon Snow.
Or Simon Snow looks an awful lot like them.
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