You Were The Sun (snowbaz)

3

SIMON

I told him to go. I have to keep reminding myself of that while I'm pacing around the flat with tears falling down my face and onto the carpet. I need to remind myself that this is a good thing and that this will be good for both of us. This was a long time coming, after all. I knew that. I think even Baz knew that, too. But I also know that he still cares about me. I could see it when I told him everything, when I finally got it off my chest. My therapist said I should talk to him. She didn't say I should break up with him, but I think I had to. But he didn't look relieved. He looked bloody miserable, actually. 

So why did he go? 

I plop down on the sofa. I'm drawn to it these days, I guess. It's comfortable and it reminds me of how things were a few months ago. Baz and I had kissed on this sofa, right in this spot, so many times before I faded away. Before that emptiness crept its way up into my head instead of my stomach. Now I'm drained dry. There's nothing left without Baz. 

I'll carry on, though. Just like I always have done. Maybe I'll get full again, somehow. Maybe I'll find something that makes me feel whole again. 

Crowley, I've become the bloody Humdrum. 

I cling to my spot on the couch, waiting for the tears to stop. Then there's a noise at the door and I think it might be Baz. He knocks which is slightly ridiculous because he has a key and it's unlocked anyway, but I rush over to the door because I just want to see him again, but it's not Baz. It's not Penny, either. It's a fucking goblin. 

I roll my eyes and call for the Sword of Mages. I ready my hand for the feeling of its hilt in my hand again as I mutter the spell, but it doesn't come. Of course it doesn't come. The goblin, seeing my moment of weakness (out of my sheer stupidity, too. Outsmarted by a bloody goblin. Today's really not my day), lunges for me, its sharp teeth grazing my shoulder as it leaps up onto me. I stumble backward with the green creature still clinging to me like I'm a fucking chew toy. I try to shake it off but its got its teeth too deep in me for me to wiggle free. 

I try to think about what the Old Simon would've done. Even without the Sword. It's like he comes back now, as soon as there's a fight. He comes forward like he's emerging from somewhere deep inside of me. He flings me down, face first, onto the floor. The goblin squeals as it crashes into the floor. Its teeth pull out of me as it yelps so I jump to my feet and frantically search the flat for some sword-like object that I can use to fight this fucker off. 

I settle for a kitchen knife. It's one of the ones that Penny won't let me go near. 

"You'll slice your fingers right off, Simon!"

I take the stance I would have if I'd had a sword in my hand instead. I challenge this bastard to a duel and he accepts. He leaps up again but I manage to slap him away, but not hard enough because he clings to my wing instead. I can't feel it so I don't mind, but he's getting blood everywhere as his teeth tear through the leathery skin. 

I stab him once in the shoulder which only seems to encourage him. With some sort of newfound strength, he jumps onto my chest, right where he was before. I'm stabbing him over and over again but this knife isn't nearly strong enough to pierce his armor, let alone get through to his skin. He twists the knife in my hands and we fight for dominance. I'm finding it incredibly pathetic that I'm being bested by this goblin, especially when he finally gets control of the knife and stabs me somewhere near my stomach. 

I scream in pain and manage to wrap my hands around his neck, letting go all my hopes of getting the knife back. I hold him high in the air (the cider's really fattened me up, giving me some sort of new strength) as I choke the life out of him. I spot the fireplace and those useless tools Penny bought. They sit right up against it and there's one that's long and iron and pointy on the end. 

Still strangling the goblin as he digs his claws into me, I move over to the fireplace and kick the holder over. I throw the goblin to the ground, one hand still around his neck to hold him in place, and pick up the iron rod.

With all my strength, I push the rod right through him until I see his dark, purpleish blood pool around him on the ground. I hold it there until he stops breathing and his eyes dull as they look up at me. I smile triumphantly, even though the flat is a complete wreck from the fight. Then I notice, really notice, the gash in my stomach and I settle down on the floor next to the fucker. 

I need to rest my eyes. 

Just for a minute.