Breathless...

𝗪𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵

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Simon's POV

We have dinner, Baz departs as usual. . It hurts less today. I have him on my mind and that's enough. At least it hurt less until the Mage shows up at Watford, that is.

               I don't know why he came, he's rarely here anyway, but he entered the Dining Hall and his cruel eyes stared straight through me. As if I didn't deserve to exist. As if I were wrong. Wrong in the deepest sense. . . Simply because I loved a boy. Because I loved Baz. He made some random announcement that flew over my head. His glare was deafening. I couldn't hear a word he said. . I only felt his bitter hatred and disgust seep into my bones. Telling me that every molecule of my being is. . is wrong. Is. . Horrible. Putrid. And he no longer sees me as the Chosen One, but rather someone to do his dirty work. Maybe that's what he always saw me as. . Maybe it only revealed itself now, and Baz was right about him all along. . .

                I can't believe someone hates me. . For loving a boy. I can't even comprehend it. It's unfathomable. Senseless. And yet, so many people in this world will hate you for who you love. For who you are.

                . . . . It's really idiotic, as Baz would put it. He'd say it's utterly senseless to accept and internalize hate when you're only giving love. He says to me every night. . that all he has. . is his love for me. It's his salvation. It's his saving grace. It's the reason he lives. It's the only thing that makes him feel alive, being in my arms every night. . Like he is right now.

               Baz is. . He loves me too much. I don't think I deserve it. Heck, I don't quite see how anyone can deserve this much love. Or maybe we all should love each other the way Baz loves me. . The thought makes me chuckle. He doesn't ever realize, but his love is enough. He isn't a monster. . No monster can love the way he does. And he isn't dead. . No one dead can devote themself to someone this way. His love is so sincere. . So honest, raw, and pure. Fuck, I really don't know what I did to deserve it.

               Baz looks at me this very second. And I think vampires can read minds because he says, "You deserve much more than you know, Snow. And I'm sorry the Mage is too much of an asshole to see it."

               I gulp at his words. Simply staring into his calm gray eyes. He presses his lips to mine gently, unbothered by my stillness. He kisses my forehead next. . , then my cheek, then my chin. He really likes my chin, I don't know why — it usually makes me laugh when he kisses it. Today's a bad day, but I still can't hold back a small grin. He doesn't ask for much. . ever. It's enough to just sit with him and be near enough for him to touch me. I am enough. And touching Baz always feels good. . , so I lift a hand and trace his sharp cheekbones, holding his soft gaze as he climbs onto my lap. We're on his bed and the scent of him. . The cedar and bergamot always intoxicates me. I let my thumb roam over his jaw. . And I rest it on his bottom lip, gently pushing, so his lips part. His silver eyes rove over me. He's just taking in the sight and I inhale sharply at what having his attention does to me. My stomach is in knots, the pleasant kind, but knots nonetheless. He slowly presses his lips to my thumb. . In the same feather-light kiss I once received back when I found him feeding in the Catacombs. The day I knew for sure that he was a vampire. Before we ever got together, before we ever even kissed. I smile at the memory of grazing his fangs with my fingers. He doesn't understand why I'm so obsessed with them. I don't know how to explain to him that it's wicked to have fangs and not monstrous.

             He's simply looking at me. . And I'm drowning in those gray pools. His pupils visibly dilate. He leans into my touch, then surprisingly he moves a little to settle on my lap with his head lying on my chest.

            "Your heart's beating in my throat. No, it's beating in my head. . Echoing, Simon."

            "Is it making you thirsty?"

            "Crowley, no. The sound of your heart beating is sweeter than any bird's singing." He whispers against my bare chest. I wrap an arm around him and stroke his hair with the other.

            "Oh really?" I ask, smiling again. It's a tired smile, but it's there. Baz always knows what to say. . .

            "Mhm, absolutely. Sweeter than any Shakespearean sonnet," he giggles a little. Baz giggling always make me grin. "Warmer and brighter than any Midsummer's day."

            "Are you saying you like me, Basil?" I whistle lowly, just to hear him scoff.

            "No, Snow, you're an overly dramatic nightmare." He asserts. I huff, my smile unwavering.

            "But I like it," he says, poking my chest with a vulnerable pout. I don't know how Baz can possibly be this beautiful. It should be wrong. "Because we match." He whispers, looking up at me.

              I stare into his healing, cloudy-gray eyes and my heart melts. I don't hesitate when my gaze drops to his perfect lips. . Always set in a pout. Angry pouts, irritated pouts, vulnerable pouts. .

              I take his chin and tip his head back so I can kiss him. Simply capturing his lips in a sweet, tender kiss. He moans softly into my mouth and I smile at that. .

             "You know you're my soulmate, right?" I say, pulling away slightly.

              He settles more comfortably on my lap and replies, "You know soulmates aren't real, right?" With an irritating smirk.

             "You're such a prick." I tell him, holding him to my chest as I move to lay down.

             "Well, too bad your soulmate is a prick then." He presses his lips to the mole on my collarbone as he says this.

              I play with his hair the way he likes as he falls asleep with his head on my chest for a change, and not the other way round.

             "I love you," I whisper, kissing his forehead. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be sleeping with a smile. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't smile like this ever.