The Key to My Heart (Or to Baz's Diary)

Keep Your Enemies Closer

Baz

I didn't want to have to let Simon go, ever. When he hugged me in the car, I wasn't sure I was breathing. It's so unlike Simon to feel obligated to make me of all people feel better. I'm so thankful for everything he did, whatever he said that made my family give me a couple more minutes to prepare.

Simon just got out of the car and grabbed his bags from the trunk. He's more ready than I am. I open the passenger side door and make my way to the back of the car. That short talk could've been the last time my father would have accepted me. Father didn't seem too upset when I talked to him, thought I wouldn't pass his expression for anything particularly giddy.

The front door to the mansion is left open a tad from when Simon previously entered the foyer. I push the door open farther, just enough for me to slip inside without a sound, kicking the door shut with my foot. I drop my bags at my feet and look up to meet Simon's gaze.

"Alright, where do I bring my stuff?" Simon says. I can only wait for him to go off on me, but I think it's safe to assume that Simon will wait until we're away from my family's eyes.

"Make sure you've got everything, then we can head up to my room. Follow me." Simon slings his bag over one shoulder and obliges, his soft feet padding along the floor behind me.

I notice Fiona smirking at me as Simon and I make our way up the steps, she gives me a quick wink and a thumbs up before disappearing back into another room. We're less than two minutes in and Fiona has already managed to find a way to embarass me.

"We're here," I say, stopping in front of the doorway to the room I haven't seen in a couple months. I'm suddenly self conscious of how things are left in there, crowley knows it'll look like world war three in there. The last time leaving my room a couple months back, I wasn't aware I'd be returning with a complete and utter heartthrob standing at my door.

I glance back at Simon who's staring into the very much open door, ruddy curls falling into his eyes. I have to fight the urge to tuck them behind his ear.

We've been here for fucking five minutes and I'm already having alarming thoughts about Simon. What the fucking shit Baz. Get your shit together.

"Can I enter or do you have to hide some things before I do?" I'm having a hard time trying to pinpoint exactly what Simon was just implying, but I decide to ignore it. I drop my bags in the hallway and put my hands on either side of the doorframe, peeking inside and giving my room a quick scan before deeming the conditions acceptable.

Thank crowley I made cleaning a priority. I'm not sure what the hell possessed me to clean, but that's besides the point. "Yeah, everything's fine, you can come in, make yourself comfy."

Simon brushes past me and plops his bag beside the little couch I have facing my fireplace. Let me tell you, being a vampire, especially during the winter, it gets fucking cold in here. That fireplace is heaven on earth.

Simon throws himself on to the couch and looks at the ceiling as I shuffle around the room, talking things out of my suitcase. I start to dig through my bag, tossing clothes onto my bed, until I come across a smidge of light blue near the bottom.

Shit. I mouth. With a quick glance in the general direction of the couch, It's safe to assume Simon is caught up in his own little world of wanting to murder me, so I leave him to it.

I'm crouched beside my bed frame, and any movement from me would get Simon to look at what I'm doing, he's still lying on the couch soundlessly. There isn't really anywhere to hide this without Simon picking up on what I'm doing, so me being the smartass I am, stuffs the diary under my mattress, just like at Watford. Funny.

"Hey, Baz," Simon says. I admit, I may have flinched slightly, but only because he nearly caught me. I get up and walk over to the couch before perching myself on one of the armrests next to Simon.

"You going to go talk to your family now?" There's no malice in Simon's voice, but I can tell that the little bit of kindness he showed me back in the car is gone. The thought of talking to my father snaps me back in to reality.

"Yeah. Try not to touch my shit while I'm gone though. Actually, you can get ready for dinner soon, Fiona and my father will start cooking in a little bit." I walk over to the door and turn the handle, opening it just enough to be able to squeeze through. "Alright, I'm off."

With one last look at Simon, he's returned to the same position draped across the sofa, his head resting against the headboard, eyes on the ceiling.

Simon

I give it a good minute or so after Baz leaves the room, and with a few frequent glances at the door I make the assumption that I'm good to go.

I won't say that Baz has shown any signs of plotting during the long car ride, he hasn't. I don't even want to admit it to myself, but Baz has been nothing but kind to me if were going on today alone.

With that, I started to realize that although everything he's going through right now, everything with sexual orientation and family, is very much real, I don't want to let all of that get in the way of my plan to figure out what Baz has been plotting for years.

I won't let Baz think I'm letting my guard down. After another quick glance at the door, I spring to my feet and gravitate towards where Baz's bags have been left on the floor. There's only two, and I decide to begin my search with the bigger one first. It seems likely he'd want the largest bag to stuff his diary in.

I rummage through the few things that are still left in the bag. There isn't much that still is in here, and after a bit of looking I realize that the diary is most definitely not in here.

Onto the next bag. It's only slightly smaller in size, still a good place to have a diary hidden at the bottom of. To my own dismay, in a good ten seconds I realize that the diary isn't here either. "Shit." I mutter.

I punch the mattress in defeat. Of course nothing goes my way. The moment I find that damn blue book, I'll tell Baz I have it and threaten to break the lock. My heart stops for a second. My hand rests on the spot where I'd just punched the mattress.

From where I lay on the couch a few minutes ago, I could tell Baz wasn't moving around much. This idiot must have figured I wouldn't look here. I internally scold myself. Baz still doesn't know I know this exists. He doesn't need a good hiding place.

I wedge my hand underneath the mattress, and with a few hand movements I hit something.

Bingo.

The second I spot that wondrous baby blue, I know I've won. Everything I've been searching for, every scheme and plan that Baz has been brewing over the past few years, it's all in here.

I found my gateway out of this damn house, and all in a few minutes time. Baz may have the key, crowley knows where that's at, but I figure that doesn't matter anymore. It's all over now.

Picking up the diary, I shuffle back to the couch and plop down once again. Waiting for Baz to return. Savouring the warmth of the fire, the fire that Baz will feel inside once he realizes that I've outsmarted him for good.

It's time to put an end to Baz Pitch