The Space Between Us (snowbaz)

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Hello, readers!

Just a quick note to make this whole thing make more sense: in this, mages can't smell each other's power. They can if the magic is used on them, but they can't just, like, detect power in others. They can feel it, a bit, but it's not like an overwhelming sense of magic. More like they're drawn to it subconsciously. 

-biblio

SIMON

I'm not sure that the Mage really knew what he was thinking when he insisted that I go off to uni. I'd wanted to stay at Watford, or with the Mage (wherever he lives. Surely he must live somewhere) so I could keep going on quests and fighting the bloody Humdrum, but he had other plans for me. To be honest, uni had never been on my mind. I could barely get through Watford, let alone bloody uni. I thought that I could get through Watford and then just focus on my training. Focus on fighting the Insidious Humdrum. Well, I guess I thought that I wouldn't really have to fight the Humdrum after Watford (I thought I'd have killed it by then) but when I didn't kill him before graduating, I thought it'd be in everyone's best interests for me to just pour all of my energy into some sort of fucking final showdown. 

But the Mage sent me away again. I guess I should be grateful that it was to a nice school in London instead of a care home, but still. 

"You must stay close to the language, Simon. An understanding of language is a mage's true power," he'd said why I asked him why he was sending me off. And, I mean, I didn't really argue with him. There was no point. He'd clearly made up his mind by then.

I did request a single, though. I knew that I'd still have to go and fight something (the Humdrum, numpties, goblins) every now and again and I didn't think it'd be fair to have to make someone else deal with my weird hours and the whole going off thing. The Mage, thank magic, had agreed that me having my own space would be best for everyone (it's never about what was best for me, but I don't mind). Unfortunately, when I showed up with my stuff the first day and went to my assigned room, there were two beds. Penny was just as confused as I was about it, especially after we met the bloke who claimed to be my assigned roommate. 

"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch," he's said, looking at my outstretched hand with disgust and an eyebrow arched so bloody high that I thought it might just, like, fly off his face. "You can call me Baz."

Since I had a roommate, I thought I'd play nice. I've never been especially good at making friends, especially with Normals (they tend to stay away from me) but I thought I'd give it a try. I thought it'd be good to be friends with my roommate. He didn't seem to think so. 

So now, here we are. Two months into uni and Baz is still a git and I'm still convinced that he's a bloody vampire or something. His side of the room is far too clean for it to be normal (not Normal, just normal), he vanishes in the middle of the night for hours, and I've never actually seen him eat anything. I suppose it's possible that he just eats in dining hall or off campus somewhere, but it seems weird that he wouldn't ever want to snack whilst he studies or something. Me? I've got an entire drawer dedicated to food items. Aero bars (mint, of course), scones, apples, and various crisps. 

And I've really tried to be his friend. I've tried playing nice with him, even when he's a complete git. He just decided he hated me from the moment he looked at me for the first time. I was offended and upset at first about it, but then I started to hate him, too. He was too bloody perfect and it made me itch all over when I thought about it too much. So maybe it's better if we just steer clear of each other. Stay enemies instead of friends. 

The one problem (besides my git of a roommate) is my magic situation. Not that I use magic in the room or anything (I'd probably end up setting it on fire) but my whole going off thing. I can't really go off in the middle of a uni campus in bloody London of all places. I mean, I probably could, but not without taking down at least half of a city block with me. I can shield people when I go off, but I don't think I could shield buildings. So instead of going off, I swallow it down. Sometimes, when it's really bad, I throw up my excess magic into a toilet. It burns my throat and leaves me feeling empty, but it's better than waking up in a pit of ash and knowing that I've just gone and killed half of the people in my building. 

One of these days, I think I won't be able to help it. I think I'll go off and take down everything in my path. 

BAZ

Sometimes I wish that I had more experience with people. I don't consider myself to be a "people person," but I think that it would have been beneficial for me to be around more people of my age growing up. I understand why my father insisted that I get private tutors instead of going to Watford, I really do, but I can't help but feel that learning how to be around other people would have helped me in the long run. I love going to university because I get to learn from real professors and I get to learn things that my tutors wouldn't have been able to teach me, but I hate going to university because I've never been so exhausted. Even for a Normal, the social dynamic of university would be completely draining, especially if you've been cursed with having a roommate (especially if that roommate is Simon bloody Snow). For me, the social aspect is draining because I constantly have to fight the urge to drain everyone dry. I wouldn't, of course, because then my father would say something along the lines of, "I told you that you couldn't handle this, Basilton" and he'd drag me back to Hampshire. 

Back to a life of nothing. 

I would much prefer to stay here in my small, cramped dorm room having to hide my life from Simon Snow than return to a place of total, soul-crushing isolation. I would rather stay here and pointedly not kiss anyone (even though I really want to, especially Snow) than go back to having to daydream about pretty boys in my bedroom. 

Sometimes, selfishly, I wish that I had gone to Watford. I wish that I had grown up around magic like that, that I could have tried to make myself useful in ongoing war against the Insidious Humdrum. My father only told me little bits about it––mostly about how it's a threat to magic and that I should, if I ever encounter it, run for my life––but I can't help but feel that I could be useful in this war. If I knew more about it, I could help fight. I'm a brilliant magician. I'm quick on my feet, I have quite a bit of power, and I know more spells than I can even count. Somewhere out there, there's a Chosen One who's going at this alone. Who's dedicated his/her life to fighting the Humdrum to no avail.

So, sometimes I think about what it might have been like if I had gone to Watford. If I had met The Chosen One and offered my help. And I wonder what would have happened if The Chosen One would have accepted it.