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

Love burns

This is the grand finale you've all been waiting for, I hope you enjoy! A big thanks for even getting this far into my fic, it means a whole lot!

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Simon

The key to Baz's heart, laid bare for me.

I'm scared half to death by the sheer intimacy of the gesture, especially considering the fact that Baz is gone. He wanted me to read this away from any prying eyes, himself included.

The sky is beginning to darken, and so I turn the nearest lamp on, casting the room in a yellowish-pink hue. The sound of my ragged breathing is the only sound aside from the crackling fireplace across from me.

What could this mean? Baz has gone through endless amounts of trouble to ensure this never got into my hands. With a quiet exhale, I brush a thumb along the edge of the baby blue cover. This almost feels too private, like it was a mistake.

Before I can get lost in my head, I tell myself to pick up the little key. With a small click the lock drops back to the wooden coffee table.

This is it. My hands are trembling ever so slightly, despite the echoing thought that Baz wants me to see this. There's something in here he means for me to find. I set the book on the wood and flip to the first page. There's no date at the top, but the handwriting is messier than Baz's is currently. It's safe to assume this is dated back a few years. God.

One can't help but wonder why life gives you hell. This is something that I think quite often, and most of the time, the question is silenced by a head of ruddy bronze curls sitting across from me. Brows furrowed in concentration as Simon tries to study for our chem test, I think maybe I haven't got it so bad.

My eyes shy away from the page, and I take a few steadying breaths.
This is going to break me.

I flip past two or three pages and resume reading, knowing that if I pause to think I won't be able to escape. Crowley, the date reads fourth year. That first entry must have also been from back then.

Fortune is something that seems to find those who don't realize they need it. You see, my entire life I've hoped for some bit of luck. A small hope that things will get better.
There are days when I am overcome with self pity. Times when I can't stop wallowing in the past. My mother. My family. Myself. I'm a vampire, and I can't stand myself for it. Some days I won't think about it at all, because I've got Simon to occupy my thoughts. The remainder of days, when I'm trapped in a dark place, Simon is my only relief.
It's like a sliver of light poking through the fog in my head. I feel like shit, doing what I do. And that's acting like an asshole towards my unsuspecting roommate, insulting him with whatever is left of my hollowed out thoughts. I'm met with a counterattack of insults each time, as to be expected. And somehow this only makes things worse. I bring it upon myself every time, yet that knowledge doesn't make it sting any less. I hate myself for hurting Simon.
"You can tell me you're a vampire, Baz," He says. "I've known it to be true for a long time now."
That's all it takes to bring up my walls, every single time. Like a caged animal, I'll fire some of the most vile, cruel things I can think up with all the intention of hurting Simon. As soon as the words are out, though, I realize that either Simon has gone silent, that he's near tears, or that I can sense magic in the air, meaning he's about to go off. Each of those outcomes has me wanting to die if only it could reverse the words I'd spoken.

As I read the last line, the words blur together as tears spring to my eyes. I squeeze my eyes shut to suppress them, taking shallow breaths in attempt at calming the patter of my heart.