Snowbaz one shots!

Vanishing act

The motel room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight against the fading daylight. Simon paced restlessly, the worn carpet muffling his footsteps. The argument had started over something trivial—like it always did these days. It was exhausting, like being caught in an endless thunderstorm.

"I can't believe you did that, Baz!" Simon shouted, his wings twitching behind him, brushing against the narrow walls. "You can't just run off on your own every time you get a bloody idea into your head!"

Baz stood by the window, his back turned to Simon, his shoulders stiff. "Oh, forgive me, Chosen One," he snapped, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I forgot everything needs your stamp of approval."

"That's not what I—" Simon clenched his fists, trying to calm the racing thoughts that spun like a cyclone in his head. "I'm trying to keep you safe, okay? You can't just disappear like that and expect me not to worry!"

Baz whirled around, his grey eyes flashing like steel. "I'm not a child, Snow! I don't need your permission to breathe!"

Simon's jaw tightened. "No, you're not a child, but you're reckless. You never think things through. You—"

Baz's face twisted with something sharp, something like hurt, though he masked it quickly with a sneer. "You don't get it, do you?" His voice was low and dangerous. "You think because you've lost your magic that you're somehow responsible for everyone else. But you're not—you're just meddling!"

The words hit Simon like a slap, and for a moment, all he could do was stare. Baz, breathing hard, seemed to realize he'd gone too far, but he didn't take it back. He never did. Simon's heart sank.

"If that's how you feel," Simon said, his voice dangerously soft, "maybe I should just stay out of your way."

Baz opened his mouth to retort, but then something shifted in his expression—a flicker of regret, or maybe just exhaustion. But before either of them could say another word, there was a crash outside the door.

Both of them tensed, eyes snapping to the entrance. The handle rattled, then burst inward, the door splintering off its hinges. In an instant, the room was filled with dark shapes, shadows that seemed to move like living smoke.

"Baz—!" Simon lunged forward, but it was too late. The shadows swarmed, wrapping around Baz like a snake. He fought, thrashing and cursing, but they were too strong. Simon's wings flared, but before he could reach Baz, the shadows tightened, and in a blink, Baz was gone.

The air where he had been standing was empty, cold, like the breath had been sucked out of the room.

"No, no, no—" Simon's voice was a broken whisper. His heart pounded as he spun in place, searching for any sign of Baz, but there was nothing. Just a lingering darkness that seemed to laugh at him from the corners of the room.

Panic surged through Simon's veins, hot and blinding. He rushed to the doorway, wings knocking over a chair as he tore through the wreckage. Outside, the sky was already darkening, the sun disappearing behind the horizon. The street was empty, the shadows that had taken Baz nowhere to be seen.

"Baz!" he shouted into the night, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Baaaaz!"

No answer. The silence felt like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs. Simon's heart was racing, his thoughts spiraling. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose Baz. Not now, not after everything they had been through, everything they still hadn't said.

"Think, think, think," Simon muttered to himself, trying to ignore the icy fingers of dread crawling up his spine. He forced himself to focus, but all he could see was the image of Baz's face twisted in fear as he was dragged away.

Simon's wings flared out, and without another thought, he launched himself into the air. He flew over the rooftops, eyes scanning the streets below, searching for even a hint of movement. His mind was a mess of frantic thoughts, guilt gnawing at him like a starving wolf.

If I hadn't yelled at him... if I'd just kept my stupid mouth shut...

The world was a blur of darkness and city lights beneath him, but there was no sign of Baz. Simon's breaths came in short, painful gasps. His magic might be gone, but the ache in his chest was all too real. He had to find him.

I can't lose you, Baz. Please. Not like this.

The minutes stretched into an eternity. Simon's wings were aching, his energy waning, but he refused to stop. He flew farther, pushing himself to the brink, until his muscles screamed in protest. He landed heavily in an alley, collapsing to his knees. His vision blurred with exhaustion, but all he could think about was Baz's voice, that final look they'd exchanged—filled with anger and something else, something Simon hadn't had time to understand.

The shadows seemed to whisper around him, mocking his helplessness. He slammed a fist into the ground, fury and fear bubbling up inside him.

"Where are you?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Baz, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please just... come back."

For the first time since it had happened, Simon let himself stop, let himself feel the full weight of the terror that was crushing him. His wings drooped, and he pressed his hands to his face, trying to steady his breathing.

Then, like an answer to his unspoken prayer, he felt it—a faint pulse of magic. It was weak, flickering like a dying candle, but it was there. Baz's magic, familiar and sharp, like the taste of bitter tea.

Simon's eyes snapped open, hope flaring like a match struck in the darkness.

"Hold on, Baz," he whispered, his voice fierce with determination. "I'm coming."

Without another second to lose, he launched himself into the air again, following that fragile thread of magic, letting it pull him toward the only person who had ever made him feel whole.

This time, he wouldn't stop until he found Baz. No matter what it took.