Back Once Again

Chapter Four

Baz

It was as if the flames were scorched themselves. Snow's distant cries where all my ears could detect, until a wild scream was thrown in to the mix. Then I suddenly felt the heat dissipate from the air. The crackled air reduced to a low humming, then eventually the heavy breathing emitting from Snow.
He was laying against me with a tense, yet collective posture—his labored breaths one of two things that my senses could cover. A low drumming was intervening in the mix along with the atmospheric noise. It was consistent, and pounded in full volume like a switch in my head. I recognized the feeling anywhere.
It was magic.
"Simon," I spoke in a concerned tone, gripping his shirt lightly. "Simon—I'm getting up."
It was pained and almost indistinguishable to my ears over the fire, but he managed. "No," he croaked. "Please, don't-"
I pushed myself away from his weak grip, scanning my eyes over the room to find the flames around us dying out. Had Snow stopped it? Turning back to him, I detected the several burns—all severely deep.
"Oh Merlin; Simon." I quickly pulled him in my grip, watching silently as he unfolded in my arms, letting out a sigh of anguish. Tilting his body over carefully, my fingers grazed about, searching for the injuries scattering on his skin. Some were very apparent, while others were minuscule. My eyes trailed down to find a harsh light flicking about on Snow's shoe.
"Uh—Simon—" My body tensed upon taking notice to the flame. Glancing to his face, I heaved a groan, before moving to his foot cautiously, pulling off his shoe just to throw it to the open, burnt wall. Huddling around him once again, Snow shifted ever so slightly, burying his head in my shirt. Labored breaths escaped his lips along with a few pained grunts and pants.
Snow needed medical help.
I needed a therapist.
"Alright; this is gonna hurt." My arms clasped onto his shirt, pulling Snow up by the upper ribs. Giving a slight whimper, I quickly hushed him, pressing his temple to my shoulder for comfort. I took a step forward. A sigh blew from my lips when he didn't follow. "Snow—c'mon." It went on like that for another hour. My body relentlessly dragging Snow's.
It was almost like he didn't want to function—to live.
The hallways were burnt. Black was the prominent color that was in my field of vision. For Snow it was blue—for his head was buried in my shirt. My footsteps began to fall heavier. Harsher. My strength was leaving me.
"I can't walk any further," Snow lisped deliriously, digging his hand on my sleeve for balance. Blinking, I gazed to him with bleary eyes, detecting multiple patches of charcoal smeared across his curled locks. Perhaps a little break would do nicely.
"No," I croaked. "We're almost there; I know it." My foot heaved a step. "We just have to keep moving." Another step. "Forward."
Snow's legs were barely functioning. I was practically carrying dead weight.
"For Crowley's sake, Snow; please do make an effort." The playful mood got deflected easily when he collapsed against me, pulling the both of us flush to the ground.
"Simon?" my voice cried out. Turning his body to face mine, I quickly cradled his face, placing a finger under his nose. Warm breath. He was alive. "Simon." I smacked his cheek lightly, cautiously gazing at his features for a twitch—some sort of reaction. He was out cold. Releasing a sigh, I crouched, picking him up in my arms. With laced brows, I trudged forward, making my way out of the building, an unconscious boy in my arms.

Simon

It felt warm. Ridiculously warm. My body was encased in darkness. The feeling was euphoric—refreshing, almost. My body was entranced with a numbness that I could only describe as assuaging. I couldn't move. I didn't have to.
"Snow," a voice echoed in a hushed tone. The voice was cracked; and shaken like static on a TV. It tried to reach out for me, but I kept on rowing, my arms holding the paddles tightly, not letting go. I didn't fight back.
"Please," the voice murmured again. The sound felt like a streak of dying light within two feet of my grasp.
I was there.
But I didn't feel like reaching for it.
The next time my body hit consciousness, I felt a little cooler, the former sweat accumulated on my face reduced to a sheen, thin coat of liquid. I felt stronger. But still not strong enough.
I let my hand grope around me. My body laid on what felt to be smooth, comfortable bedsheets—a thin blanket ontop of it. Fuzz loosely gripped onto the covers, showing signs of the article being washed more than just a few times. I must've perspired through everything. Even a wash and dry to the blanket couldn't beat my protruding sweat.
I gripped the sheets weakly, wiping my damp face against the dirtied pillow. A sudden wave of energy suddenly fused through me, as I curled my toes, trying to seek out comfort. Cracking my eyes open, they blearily scanned the foreign room, settling on a blurred, distant figure. I tried to communicate with a dry mouth, instead finding my loud, harsh coughs become the result. Squinting, I watched the silhouette dash across the room, their lips opening and closing.
Blurry figures.
Distant noises.
Darkness.
I had returned to cold comfort that blanketed me.
Unconsciousness.

A/N: Hello everybody! I haven't updated in forever, but I promise I'll be updating more often now. I've gotten the plot figured out, so it should be easier to fall back into the swing of things. If you've enjoyed the story so far, please leave a vote or comment! It means a lot! Thanks! Bye!