Chamber by Chamber // Snowbaz

Playing With Fire

Otp Prompt #10: Baz plays with fire, nearly torching himself many times, and Simon worries. What will happen when Simon tries to save Baz from himself?

I don't know what to make of Baz today. When I woke up this morning, I looked over to his bed and saw fire. I nearly shot myself out of my bloody bed, but it turned out that Baz was playing with the fire. The House of Pitch was always known for their magicians skilled with fire. But as a vampire, (or so I presume. Not that he would ever just admit that)(even though I've known since fifth year, and he knows I know, too) he's extra flammable. But there he was, snaking the fire in between his hands and juggling it. He looked tired- his hair was falling in waves over his face, and he had bags under the bags under his eyes. His eyes were no longer a bright silvery grey color; they were more of a murky, sad grey. Like rain clouds.

"Crowley, Baz! What are you doing?" I didn't make a move to go help him or anything. I just went to put on fresh clothes, completely ignoring my usual shower. Even though I didn't go to help him, my skin was itching to run over and put the fire out before he torched himself.

"Absolutely nothing, Snow. Absolutely nothing." He didn't even sneer- he just sounded like he had lost all willingness to care. I said nothing as I got ready for the day and left for the dining hall.

And that's where I sit now, staring at Baz across the tables. He's barely put in any effort with his appearance today. His clothes hang off his body and his tie hangs lazily around his neck. Even his hair isn't slicked back in it's normal state. (Which wouldn't be weird if he had football practise today, but he doesn't. He usually leaves his hair down when he has practise, but I know for a fact that he has the next two days off). But the most troublesome thing I notice is that he's still playing with fire. It snakes between his fingers and around his neck. It gets so close to his skin that I swear it probably burns some of his hair. For some reason that I don't feel like thinking about right now, I just want to jump up and make him stop. It seems like he doesn't even care if he catches on fire.

Throughout all of our classes, he doesn't stop spinning the fire in his hands. I can see the flames in his eyes as he stares down into the monster licking at his hands. He doesn't pay attention to the professors or take notes, which isn't like him. He always has to be top of the class. He never stops trying. So to see his total disregard for authority (whenever a teacher has told him to stop, he just ignores them until they finally give up) and lack of effort. Just a centimeter closer and he could easily catch on fire. I wish I knew what he was thinking.

During our next class, I hiss his name between my teeth. "Baz," He doesn't even flinch. "Basil," I have to stay quiet so as to not get in trouble, but it's hard to get his attention away from the flames. He snaps his head up, and I finally see up close just how tired he looks. He looks like he's given up. He tries to sneer at me, but it falls flat. "Stop it," I demand quietly. I try to plead with my eyes, but even if he does see that, he chooses to ignore it. In fact, the flame just grows in his hands.

He meets my stare and growls. "Why does it matter, Snow? Why does anything matter?" He ignores me for the rest of the class. I wonder what he's talking about. What's got him in such a funk? What if he dies by catching himself on fire. And what if that's what he wants? No, I won't let it happen. I always promised that I would watch him and make sure he wasn't plotting until the day eventually came where we would have to fight. And more than that... he promised to make my life miserable forever. How's he supposed to do that if he's dead?

At the end of my last class of the day, I decide that I'm going to confront him. Ask him why he's so okay with getting torched and why on Earth he thinks that I'm okay with him getting torched. I try not to think too hard about why that is. His words ring through my head; Why does it matter, Snow? Why does anything matter? Why does what matter? Him dying? Because, you tit I should've said. That would mean you weren't here anymore, and that matters to me. Like Baz would ever do something just because it mattered to me.