A Bundle of Love (snowbaz)

Abroad

Haha, it's a one-shot about ~the beach scene~

Sue me.

Also: ANGST but with a HAPPY ENDING!! I love some good emotional turmoil but also Simon and Baz are my lifeblood and I want nothing but happiness for them. 

-biblio

SIMON.

I thought...

Well, I guess I don't know what I thought. That the sun and the open road might fix whatever's broken? In all those cliché movies, road trips are a chance for self discovery. When it's just you, a car, the road, and your best friend (and maybe your vampire boyfriend) you learn about each other and you learn about yourself. Whatever issues you might've had going in, you don't have them coming out. Maybe there are a few bumps in the road (or dragons, or angry vampires, or maybe polecats with shotguns) but it doesn't matter because it's all for the better. It's all part of that journey. 

It's a load of fucking bollocks. 

I've fought the bloody vampires, the polecat, the goat-man. Talked myself out of living with a dragon on a mountain, talked to a water spirit. Took on Next Blood with no magick. Hell, I even got shot. I almost bled out in a fucking desert. I went through all of that thinking that, in the long run, it'd be okay because I'd be better off for it. That I'd find myself again. I didn't, though. Not even close. There were moments, usually when we were fighting or just after, where I felt like I used to––full of something. But now I feel that emptiness again. It's filling me up and hollowing me out. I feel like nothing. 

Like I am  nothing. 

So, instead of hanging out with Agatha and Penny and Baz while they swap stories and have tea like anything that happened on this trip actually changes things, I'm sitting on the beach. The waves crash against my legs, giving me salty kisses before receding to wherever the fuck they go (maybe it's the same magic that holds Baz's fangs). 

Baz. 

I thought, at least, that we'd be better off after all this. I don't think we are, though. I don't know. We haven't talked much. Not really. I think...I think I should still end things with him. If this trip proved anything, it's that I'm just a liability. Even with a weapon, I was basically useless in the end at the final showdown or what have you. I thought that Penny and Aggie were killed. I thought I was killed. 

And, now that I think about it, I think it would've been easier if I had been. If those guns and those bullets had really just ended me right there in the fucking desert. There are worse places to die, I suppose, and I've always known that I'd go down in a fight. I think I should have died when all of the Humdrum nonsense happened, and certainly when I crumbled in the desert. 

There are tears in my eyes now.

I'm so sick of crying. 

I'm so sick of living. 

BAZ.

I find Simon the beach, sitting on the sand with his legs planted firmly in front of him. Waves keep crashing over his legs before they return to the sea and then hit him all over again. He's not doing anything, he's just sitting there and staring blankly ahead.

I take off my shoes and socks, placing them gently by the path. I roll up my (cheap, American) trousers and make my way over to him. 

We haven't really talked––not in a way that really matters. Just thinking about picking up whatever conversation he wanted to have before Bunce barged in and whisked us away to America is making me feel ill because I know that it couldn't have been good. Now, especially after everything that's happened on this trip, I don't think I could handle it if he did want to break up with me (not that I could have ever handled it, but for a few moments on this sodding trip, it felt like we might be okay again). Aleister Crowley, he almost died. I thought he was dead, at any rate. He very well could have been.