You Were The Sun (snowbaz)

1

BAZ

Simon Snow is lying on the sofa. 

Simon Snow is pretty much always laying on the sofa these days. He sits there with his cider and a bag of crisps and watches the telly until his eyes get red. Then Simon Snow goes to bed.

At no point during this television-trance does Simon Snow acknowledge my presence. It's been going on like this for weeks now, like everything has just started catching up with him and he can't shut his mind off (for once). He doesn't kiss me like he used to (like the world might very well fall apart if our lips were not connected for one second). He doesn't kiss me at all anymore. He just sits there, his leathery wings tucked behind him because he (like a bloody child) refuses to let me or Bunce spell them into oblivion. 

So I sit by his side. I don't dare touch him. (I've tried. He shrugs me off.) I just sit by his side so he knows that I'm here. That I care. I don't know if he understands what I'm doing, but I'll keep sitting here until he gets it. Until he comes through this and is Simon again. I've been doing it every day for weeks. I'm perfectly content to wait for him, but I can see him slipping away. It's like a Visiting when they slip back into the Veil. If it is a Visiting, I'll wait twenty more years for him. (I'll wait until he comes through for good.) 

For now, I'll just keep sitting here, a good stretch of distance between us, as Snow shoves another fistful of crisps in his mouth and washes it down with cider. 

SIMON

I know what he's doing. I know what he's plotting. 

He wants me to break through his state and be the old Simon again. The Simon who had too much magick for his own good, the Simon who kissed him in that burning forest, the Simon who saved the world. 

I have no idea how to tell him that I'm not that Simon anymore. I'm something else now. A fuck up with wings and tail who's only power is consuming a ridiculous amount of crisps and cider. To be fair, he's not the same Baz as he was back then. Back when we were at each other's throats (with our fists or our mouths, doesn't matter). He's softer now. He just sits here with me on the bloody sofa like he wants to be here. I know he doesn't. I know he's here because he doesn't want me to keep slipping away because he has this idea that if he sits here long enough, I might crack. That the old Simon will come back and snog him until he can't see straight (which would be a lot of snogging considering he's a vampire and has super healing or whatever). 

I don't know how to tell him that he's gone, that he's just another thing I lost That Night. 

I still love him. Of course I still love him. I think he'll see that when I tell him. I think he'll get that this is better for both of us. I know he's here out of some honor thing and because he promises me that he chose me (mages are always strung up on honor and promises) but I see him when he thinks I don't. I see that flicker of hope in his eyes when I shuffle positions on the couch, like maybe I'm going to move closer to him. Like maybe I'll put my arm around him or hold his hand. 

I won't. I can't. I can't let myself get close to him anymore. Or talk to him. Or acknowledge that he's always sitting right there next to me, just fucking waiting. 

That flicker is how I know that this will be good for him. That flicker is all I need to know that what I'm going to do will release him from whatever binding spell he put on us.

I'm going to break up with Baz.