COC #11: Angst Day
Simon and Baz don't know if they'll make it... maybe they're just not meant to be?
~ Sometimes we don't have happy endings with the people we think we will- and that's okay. Enjoy! ~
"Simon, anywhere you are is-" He cuts me off.
"Where you want to be, I know!" He lifts his hands up in exhaustion. I'm bloody tired, too. "But honestly, Baz, I think... I don't think we were meant to be. I don't feel like this is right- not anymore. It's too hard." It's taking every fucking thing in me not to cry. (Which is bloody hard when your boyfriend is breaking up with you on the grounds of 'not feeling right.')
"Bollocks!" My voice breaks. I'm more than sad. I'm angry. "That's bullshit, Simon Snow. Nothing has ever felt more right." I'm insistent; intent on scrounging up what little of a relationship we have left. (Maybe it's pointless, but when has that ever stopped me from pining and trying?)
"Baz," He interjects, softly this time. "I can't do this anymore. We're too different... too broken. I just," (Broken... it always comes down to being broken.) He sighs, looking at me with his tear-filled perfectly, heartbreakingly Simon eyes. He thinks for a moment, debating on what to say next. When he figures it out, his face sets in resolve, sadness still brimming behind his facade. "I don't love you enough." He breaks eye contact with me. My whole world is collapsing - the air being sucked from the room - and the absolute fucking bastard can't even look me in the eye.
I take a step toward him and soften my voice as I say, "How about you look me in the eyes and say that?" I take his hand. He looks up at me, (extra)ordinary face gleaming with tears and snot. He's a mess. (I would usually think that's cute- right now I couldn't hate it more.) His eyes bore into me. Somehow I know that what he says next will be the making or breaking of our relationship. (It becomes very bloody apparent that this could be the end of this- of us. I'm not ready. Could I ever be ready for having no more of Simon Snow?)
"I..." He takes a deep breath, but he holds my stare nonetheless. "I just don't love you enough to keep going with this. It isn't working anymore- I'm sorry." One breath. One single stuttering exhalation of air is all that comes out of my mouth in response. I stumble backwards, my mind going a mile a minute. This is really it. The end of my world. I always knew that his love was too good to be true. Heartbreak. What a funny word- I suppose it does exactly what it says on the tin.
All of a sudden, I feel as though my nerves have turned to steel, my tears to drying acid and my heart to stone. I went from blubbering to pleading to... well. To this. Absolutely fucking done. I'm a Grimm-Pitch for fucks' sake. When did I start letting myself cry in front of other people? (Not other people. Simon.) If tears could be reversed and sucked back into your eyes, then Crowley, I think it would happen at this moment. Nothing and no one makes a sound. Not a move. We're staring at each other and I feel like I don't care anymore. I've gone through too much trial and error with Simon Snow and his 'love'. It's been too much. The thing is, if you go through trials and trials and still find errors in the end... maybe it's the experiment itself that isn't working.
"Fine." He looks taken aback.
"F-fine? Fine?" He's breathing more heavily now, but I'm as calm right now as I have been in months.
"Yes, Snow. I don't know where I'm going to go now, but yes. Fine. I'm not going to stay with someone who doesn't love me and who thinks I'm not worth it," I sigh, running another hand through my hair, pulling at the roots. (Simon, tugging at my hair in bed. Always, always so nice and safe. Was there really never any love there? Was I imagining it all?) "But I hope you know that this is it for us, Simon Snow. There's no going back." I'm having trouble believing myself to be bloody well honest. (If Snow came back and said he wanted me, I'm sure I'd be putty in his hands once again.) (I'm just making a point, I suppose.)
"Baz, I do love you, it's just-"
"No, Simon," My voice is as cold as Manchester in the Winter. "You don't." He shakes his head like I'm wrong. (This boy is a walking contradiction. Aleister Crowley, how did I ever love him?) (Because he's Simon Snow and I just couldn't help myself.)
"Where are you going to go?" He asks me quietly, gazing at the ground as if it were far more interesting that our current conversation.
"Las Vegas, probably. To see Lamb." I throw venom in my voice like I did all that time ago in Watford. (It works- he shoots his head up at me and glares.)
"You're going to be with Lamb?!" He hisses. (Hisses, really. Nicks and Slicks, how the fuck could he still be jealous of Lamb? I'm only capable of loving Simon Snow.) Nonetheless, I nod my head. "Fine. Have a great fucking life, Basilton." With that, he walks away. It's funny how things can just end so abruptly. We ended as quickly and as angrily and as messily as we had begun. We ended with anger and fire and hate that was once love. (I once thought that the only way we would end is if I died- this is pretty bloody close.)
______
I do go to Vegas. One week later, I'm on a plane headed straight for Nevada. I don't know what I'll do there- maybe I'll finally find my kind. Maybe I'll find my kind and finally be happy without Snow. As I gaze out the window of the plane and watch the wings glide slowly through the air, I notice something odd. A lot of smoke is coming from the jets, and the wing itself is starting to smoke.
The wing catches on fire. There's an emergency. Brace for impact. I know that we're not going to make it. But as we soar toward the ocean in a frenzy, I can only think about one thing. (My mind hates me.)
Blue eyes.
Bronze curls.
The fact that Simon Snow is alive, and nobody can hurt him- not even me.
And I always knew that this would end in flames.