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

A Little Cup of Love

Baz

Simon can be quite puzzling at times. I'm not sure whether I should love or hate the way he's acting at the moment. Aside from the fact that he's sitting on the bathroom floor, my own self sprawled across the tile and clinging to Simon's torso, we're conflicted.

Simon threatened to open my diary and reveal everything that I've been plotting. Resulting in my little pass-out episode. If only he knew the things I've poured into those pages. The thought of my love being known to anyone but me -and now Fiona- is something that I'm in no way prepared for. Especially if the one finding this out is my love.

I pull myself up into a sitting position and fall against Simon. He sighs softly, sounding relieved, and I realize how weak I must really be for him, to fall right back into his arms after he nearly destroyed me.

"You need to get some rest, Baz." Simon makes a move to get up, pulling me along with him. The floor spins slightly as I get to my feet, and Simon seems to take note of this, slipping an arm underneath my shoulder.

Simon walks me back into the bedroom and sits me down on the bed. The day must have flown by, it's past dusk out. The night sky casts long shadows across the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, a slightly freckled hand turns the bedside lamp on, illuminating the room in a washed out yellowy-pink.

"Are you tired enough to get some rest?" Simon looks at me expectantly, and I nod. I'm more tired than anything at the moment. Last night I'd been the generous host, letting Simon sleep on my bed while I'd taken the couch just near the fireplace. Tonight I won't even put up a fuss, the mattress feels too good to get out of.

Simon saunters out of the room without warning, and I can only stare as I wait for him to return.

A couple of minutes later, it becomes clear that Simon might be a little longer than expected. I allow myself to close my eyes for a few minutes, though carefully enough so as not to fall into a deep sleep. I'm tired as all hell.

When the door to my bedroom audibly opens, I perk up slightly, pulling myself up and out of the covers just enough so that I can lean against the headboard.

Simon walks over to the bed and places a mug on the nightstand, looking anywhere but my eyes. I shift slightly over on the mattress so as to silently invite him to sit down, and I have force down a smile when he does.

He's fumbling with his hands in his lap and I wait in silence until his fingers still. "I made you some tea. Green tea. I'm not sure if you'll like it, but I hope you feel better soon. I feel really bad about everything, and I know it's my fault that you passed out-"

My hand moves to be placed overtop of Simon's, a silent plea to stop. "It's okay."

In this moment I realize that everything Simon said to me -about opening the diary and revealing what I've been plotting- isn't all true. Sure, he believes that I'm planning to destroy him, but thinking back on how anxious Simon seemed then, it's hard to believe he had any ill intent.

It seemed as if Simon felt he needed to make that move, rather than wanted to. The way he's treated me the entirety of this trip couldn't have all been an act. I can't imagine that possibility, and maybe his feelings towards our rivalry are similar to those going through my head.

We're silent for a while, and the hand I have over Simon's begins to trigger goosebumps along my arm. I take this as a queue to pull back. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean it Simon." He looks at me then, and I'm to shy to glance upwards and meet his eyes. I'm a damn coward and I know it, though it doesn't take much to sense Simon's gaze searching me.

A press of lips, feather light to my forehead snaps me out of my little daze. "I'm sorry, Baz. For all of it." His lips linger on my forehead as he presses a kiss there, running his thumb across my jaw.