Do you remember me?- Simon Snow

In sickness and in health

Simon had visited the hospital tower more than his fair share of times, a lot of people have a vendetta against him the chosen one, but he still marvelled at the bronze pillars that marked its entrance and the billowing curtains that parted on command.
Once in the tower Simon became distracted by two doves fluttering to the nurses, carrying bandages and other supplies tightly in their claws.

"Not again Snow!" Nurse Peel gave Simon a scolding look. Her eyes scanned his figure and then looked curiously at him. "You don't seem injured," she eyed him suspiciously.

"No, I-I'm here to see Bazilton," her expression fluently turned from confusion to surprise.

"Simon Snow here to see Bazilton. Well I never..." She trails off and points a finger at the bed in the far corner. Eager to escape her gaze Simon quickened his step which conveniently shortened the time he was away from Baz. Simon had decided Bazilton was like a drug: having him too much was a pain but when he's gone you miss him deep down, your insides curling themselves up till they can feel his presence, your eyes grey-scaling your view till a glimpse of his hair set a new record for black and made everything lighter in comparison, your nose sensing nothing but the ash in the school cauldrons till you catch a faint scent of cinnamon and red apples and your brain is reminded of the perpetual state of autumn Baz provides.

Simon knelt by Baz's bedside where the crisps sheets hugged him close, his pale skin making a morgue more fitting than the hospital wing. He looked as though he was sleeping which was unfamiliar to Simon who had always woken after nightmares to Baz reading spindly books which looked so fragile that Simon pondered if a page was turned to fast then the whole book might turn to dust. Simon would lie staring at the curtains as Baz read on but he swore he saw his roommate glancing in concern as Simons eyelids would begin to droop and he'd slip back into the arms of a light slumber.

"I'm... I- I'm..Look! Baz I'm sorry," Simon stammered. He felt awkward and unsure of what he wanted to say. Baz remained still but there it was: cinnamon and red apples. Autumn, Simon loved autumn; owls swooped the school for students holding Stooves Sparking Seeds; Crackling fireplaces finally made the paintings stop grumbling about the cold; Baz coming in earlier than usual and kicking orange leaves from his thick boots, a grin gracing his face. Later in the evening Baz would sit by the fire, looking out the window at his autumn, glowing like he was in his element.

A tear slipped from his eyes onto Baz's sheets as he thought of the lonely boy making friends with the leaves and drowning in the company of the rain. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" he sobbed involuntarily. He babbled on like someone had slipped him a few drops of Purificium potion. When he moved his hand towards Baz's, his insides uncurling, he felt three words on the tip of his tongue but just in time a dove clasping a needle swooped passed his head and he fell silent. He stood abruptly when he remembered where he was; the hospital wing wasn't somewhere to do this, it still didn't stop him missing the warmth of Baz's hand as he slowly let it fall from his.