Chamber by Chamber // Snowbaz

Goodbye...

The war between the Mage and the Old Families has finally arrived. Baz always knew it would end like this...

~ Please note that other than the spells, the bolded lines are lines that are either inspired by or taken directly from the journal I keep. I decided that since this is one of my last ones, I wanted to make it personal for both myself and all of you, and I wanted to let you know with these lines that you are not alone in feeling these things. 

Songs to listen to while reading:

- Goner, Twenty One Pilots

- Truce, Twenty One Pilots

- What a Heavenly Way To Die, Troye Sivan

- Skinny Love, Birdy

- Love Is A Losing Game

TW: Self harm references and in depth descriptions of depression. Enjoy, my loves, and let me know what you think! I hold this one close to my heart <3 ~

*Baz's POV*

I always thought that he was the sun, and I've never been proven more correct than now. The fire in the distance has made the smoke and fog around us hold sort of a golden haze, and the sunset is setting peacefully in the distance; unaware of the chaos happening so far away. Lighting up the golden boy in front of me. His stance is wide, his sword out. I've never seen such a fire in his eyes- usually it's mine that hold the embers. His broad shoulders are tense, ready to jump. His ever-messy hair is strewn all about, and it almost reminds me of how he looks when he first wakes up. It's just much, much different, this time. (If I try my bloody hardest I can imagine we're back in our beds, getting ready for classes.)

I've only seen him look like this once, and it was when we were fighting the Chimera. The only difference is that he was focused on protecting me, then. (What I would give to go back... to the beginning, this time.) Now, he's facing me. Readying for the war we both knew was inevitable. I'm sure I've the same stance, but I think I feel a bit like I've given up. It's been... a long time. A long time of just waiting. Waiting to fight Simon Snow. Waiting for our last day together. Waiting... for death, quite honestly. My sleeves are rolled up - something I've not done in a long time - just so I can look down at my wrists. The scars there, some old, some new. To mark my skin like a painting and I'm Picasso. A fucked up masterpiece.

I've won enough fights with Snow. So no, I won't be winning this one. And I think we both know it, deep down. I won't go down without a fight... but I'll go down without enough fight. (Gladly, for him. I'd die at his hand 1,000 times before I hurt him.) Besides, I can't do this anymore. I don't want to. The fighting. The hurting. It's all too much, and it's made me want to stop fighting, permanently. So that's what I'm about to do.

All around us, the war rages on. But as we stand, facing each other, it feels as though we're the only two here. Maybe it's always been meant to feel that way. (I'm briefly reminded of when we'd first met. The Crucible gave me him, and I think it always intended for it to end like this. In flames.)

Neither of us have moved a muscle. (His eye contact is nearly too much... but if this will be the last time I'm graced with his presence, I'll endure it. I'll endure it gladly; always for him.) But in order for me to die, we have to fight like we were always destined to. (I was always convinced that the world conspired against me. I think now that it's always been leading me up to the biggest blessing of all. Death. And at the hands of Simon, no less.) So I lift my wand. And start our last fight that we'll ever have. (How I desperately long for our morning bickers about his tie.)