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

Friends Can Betray

Baz

Breathing becomes difficult as I stare Simon's back down. I focus on a particular spot in the middle of his spine so as to attempt calming my rapid breathing. Simon doesn't know I'm here, watching him toy with my diary in his hands.

Maybe the best thing to do is turn back towards the hallway and pretend this had never happened. Maybe Simon will put it back where he found it originally, and never mention its finding in the first place. As I debate my next move and the possible outcome of this disaster, Simon twists around.

Surprisingly enough, Simon looks startled at the sight of me in the doorframe, and nearly drops the diary to the floor. He immediately gets up from his squatting position near the edge of my bed, making a move to stand. I almost let out a nervous laugh at the way Simon visibly tilts, nearly falling over.

I should be the one who's nervous. Hell, I'm beyond nerves at this point.

Simon stares me down for a moment, his adam's apple bobbing with what could only be anxiousness. He must be ecstatic. Who knows what kind of things Simon would think I'd have written about. Something that's been hidden from him for years could only spike tremendous curiosity.

"I can't do this." Simon says. Like I should know what he's referring to. I debate waking right out of the room. Whatever bullshit Simon is about to spew regarding the finding of my diary, it can only hurt me more than I can afford.

Simon

Baz looks far more uncomfortable than I expected. Though I'd have to admit, after all the tears we've shared over this short trip, it wouldn't have come as a shock to see a few crocodile tears slip past Baz's eyes. If I'm honest with myself, I'd expected more of a show- not the unending silence Baz is giving me.

It hurts me more than ever, my insides feel as if they'd turned to dust. Reminders of why I've decided to go through with this pop into my head, all at once with no warning.

I'm falling for Baz, hard. More than I'd like to admit. It's become almost certain to me that Baz may be playing with my heart in attempt at putting an end to this rivalry once and for all. Though it hurts me to do this to Baz, especially with these blossoming feelings I've developed for him, I made a vow to myself that I wouldn't let Baz steal my heart unless he'd do so with the right intentions.

I'm fucking scared to death of losing myself to the side of Baz I've known for years back at Watford.

The Baz I've been with on this trip had been something else entirely, almost too much for my boyish heart to take on all at once.

I can't even ask myself if I love Baz, I'm much too afraid to ask myself that question, for fear that the answer will be yes.

Baz

Puzzling myself over what Simon might be feeling in this moment proves a somewhat sufficient way of reprimanding the hollow feeling in my gut. Years of staring at this boy haven't made reading his expressions any easier.

"I can't do this." Simon repeats. I hold his gaze -though it pains me to do so- with more silence. I can't seem to find my voice, so I urge him on with my eyes. I realize then that it was foolish of me to get my hopes up that Simon and I may have formed some kind of an understanding over this trip.

"I can't let you win." Simon is leaning against the wall of my bedroom, directly across from the door frame where I stand. He runs a hand through his ruddy curls, and my eyes track the movement unconsciously. Simon seems to catch that, and continues on.

"I won't let you beat me. I won't let you kill me in the end." He says. It becomes difficult for me to hold back the years of yearning and longing I've felt for this boy. I want to yell it to Simon's face, that I'd rather die a thousand deaths before having to be the reason for his.