Otp Prompt #10: Baz plays with fire, nearly torching himself many times, and Simon worries. What will happen when Simon tries to save Baz from himself?
I don't know what to make of Baz today. When I woke up this morning, I looked over to his bed and saw fire. I nearly shot myself out of my bloody bed, but it turned out that Baz was playing with the fire. The House of Pitch was always known for their magicians skilled with fire. But as a vampire, (or so I presume. Not that he would ever just admit that)(even though I've known since fifth year, and he knows I know, too) he's extra flammable. But there he was, snaking the fire in between his hands and juggling it. He looked tired- his hair was falling in waves over his face, and he had bags under the bags under his eyes. His eyes were no longer a bright silvery grey color; they were more of a murky, sad grey. Like rain clouds.
"Crowley, Baz! What are you doing?" I didn't make a move to go help him or anything. I just went to put on fresh clothes, completely ignoring my usual shower. Even though I didn't go to help him, my skin was itching to run over and put the fire out before he torched himself.
"Absolutely nothing, Snow. Absolutely nothing." He didn't even sneer- he just sounded like he had lost all willingness to care. I said nothing as I got ready for the day and left for the dining hall.
And that's where I sit now, staring at Baz across the tables. He's barely put in any effort with his appearance today. His clothes hang off his body and his tie hangs lazily around his neck. Even his hair isn't slicked back in it's normal state. (Which wouldn't be weird if he had football practise today, but he doesn't. He usually leaves his hair down when he has practise, but I know for a fact that he has the next two days off). But the most troublesome thing I notice is that he's still playing with fire. It snakes between his fingers and around his neck. It gets so close to his skin that I swear it probably burns some of his hair. For some reason that I don't feel like thinking about right now, I just want to jump up and make him stop. It seems like he doesn't even care if he catches on fire.
Throughout all of our classes, he doesn't stop spinning the fire in his hands. I can see the flames in his eyes as he stares down into the monster licking at his hands. He doesn't pay attention to the professors or take notes, which isn't like him. He always has to be top of the class. He never stops trying. So to see his total disregard for authority (whenever a teacher has told him to stop, he just ignores them until they finally give up) and lack of effort. Just a centimeter closer and he could easily catch on fire. I wish I knew what he was thinking.
During our next class, I hiss his name between my teeth. "Baz," He doesn't even flinch. "Basil," I have to stay quiet so as to not get in trouble, but it's hard to get his attention away from the flames. He snaps his head up, and I finally see up close just how tired he looks. He looks like he's given up. He tries to sneer at me, but it falls flat. "Stop it," I demand quietly. I try to plead with my eyes, but even if he does see that, he chooses to ignore it. In fact, the flame just grows in his hands.
He meets my stare and growls. "Why does it matter, Snow? Why does anything matter?" He ignores me for the rest of the class. I wonder what he's talking about. What's got him in such a funk? What if he dies by catching himself on fire. And what if that's what he wants? No, I won't let it happen. I always promised that I would watch him and make sure he wasn't plotting until the day eventually came where we would have to fight. And more than that... he promised to make my life miserable forever. How's he supposed to do that if he's dead?
At the end of my last class of the day, I decide that I'm going to confront him. Ask him why he's so okay with getting torched and why on Earth he thinks that I'm okay with him getting torched. I try not to think too hard about why that is. His words ring through my head; Why does it matter, Snow? Why does anything matter? Why does what matter? Him dying? Because, you tit I should've said. That would mean you weren't here anymore, and that matters to me. Like Baz would ever do something just because it mattered to me.
The run to Mummers House is a long one, because I just want to get back before dinner and tell Baz that he needs to stop. I won't let him dismiss me this time- I'll insist until he agrees. And then I'll hold him to that agreement, no matter how long it takes and what I need to do to make sure of it. When I get into our room, I stumble backwards in surprise at what I find. Baz isn't in here (I saw him leave the dining hall, so he must be somewhere), but his side of the room is a mess. Baz is a bloody clean freak, and I've never seen his side of the room so... ruined. His clothes have been flung from their drawers and his bed covers have been torn apart. Pieces of paper and journals lay ripped all along the floor. But what surprises me the most (and causes a dull ache to pang in my heart) are the footsteps burned into the ground on their way out of our room.
I don't know how I didn't notice them on the way up here. The ground is burned just ever so slightly in a Baz-foot shaped mark. From his bed and out his door, leading down the stairs. I follow them, worry setting up camp in my chest. What if he's hurt? What if he's gone off and done something stupid and hurt himself. I know I shouldn't care about what happens to my enemy- I should want him to die. But for whatever reason, I can't bring myself to just ignore what's going on. Baz is on a suicide mission. I don't know how exactly, but as the burned footsteps lead into the Wavering Wood, my stomach just knows that something is wrong. At first, there are just footsteps like there were back in our room. But now... now the trees that he must've touched while he was running are set ablaze, firelight dancing in the forest.
A few more steps in and I see a small figure in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by trees. Baz. I can't help but break out into a sprint before stopping in front of him. He's curled in a tight ball, head buried in his arms. I can tell that he's crying. I just want this to stop. I just want him to be okay. To take him home and make sure he's alright- not hurting himself or anyone else.
"Baz, you're flammable!" I yell as I crouch down in front of him.
"So is everything." He mumbles back, his head still in his arms. I wouldn't have been able to hear him if I weren't so close.
"Baz?" I tug gently on his arm and he whips his head up. I can see the flames dancing in his eyes, which must mean that we're surrounded. His eyes are puffy and tears keep streaming down his face. "Wh-what's going on, Baz? Let's go home."
"Home?" He spits. "I have no home. Go away, Snow. This fire isn't for you." He looks at me sadly and nods his head in the direction of the way I can go to escape. The bloody tosser thinks I'm leaving without him. Well, he's wrong.
"It's not for you, either. And you do have a home, Baz. Back at Mummers, safe with me. Calling me names and making me miserable and competing with Penny for top of the class. That's your home." When he looks away from me, I reach out and move his face back towards me. I don't move my hand from his face. "What's all this about?" He laughs disdainfully and sniffles his nose.
"It's been 16 years today since my mother died, you know," I did not. "Did you know she died because she didn't want to become like me? She was bitten by a vampire- then she killed him and herself when she thought she'd be turned. She couldn't bare to become an undead monster... like me." His voice is filled with so much sadness. Not anger, anymore. He really thinks he's a monster? He's just a boy.
"You're not a monster, Baz." He laughs without humour and he looks me in the eyes. They're filled with tears. When they fall, I wipe them away with my thumb.
"Yes I am. And I just want to do right by my mother. This is what she would have wanted for me. To die so that others- yes, even just animals- can live. I kill animals Simon. I take their life, so that I can live. I am a monster. And I deserve to die like one."
"Shut up!" I don't know why I'm yelling. (I don't know why I'm crying, either. Something's just come over me). "Just shut up, Baz. I don't care what your mother would have wanted! I eat meat all the time- does that make me a killer? You. Are not. A monster. The Chimera, the Humdrum and goblins. They are monsters. You're just Baz. A boy. My infuriating sod of a roommate. The smartest bloke in our class. An excellent magician, and a better friend to those who are your friends." I plead with him.
"Those aren't things to live for, Snow." He smiles a sad smile.
"Then live for me, Baz. Live so I can live. Because if you die, I won't survive. Just live for me," As I say this (realizing it's all true), I take his hand and put it over my heart. I grab his other hand and place it on his own. "You feel those, Basilton? We both have hearts. They both need blood to survive, and they beat the same. Find it in your heart to live for me. Please." He looks at me like he's about ready to attack, and I can feel the heat from the fire start licking at my back. I can tell he's on the fence about his home with Watford- with me- so I decide to drive it home.
I take his face in both hands and lean forward, pressing my lips to his. His mouth is cold even though we're surrounded by fire, and it's soft, too. Before long, though, he pushes me back, but he grabs my hand and puts it on his chest. I already know what to do; I push. I let him take what he wants from me as he spells out the forest fire. When he finishes, he leans back in tentatively, as though he's not sure as to whether or not it's what I want. It is. We stay there for a long while. Each kiss says the words we can't say ourselves.
I kiss his neck: Go home with me.
His jaw: Don't ever try and hurt yourself again
I nibble at his ear: You're home with me. Safe.
And finally, back to his lips:
I love you