Breathless...

"𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗕𝗮𝘇, 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂."

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Simon's POV

I race down to class and stumble in a few minutes late, luckily for me Miss Possibelf is very, very busy talking to our Magickal Artefacts teacher, and she doesn't notice me slip into the empty seat next to Penelope.

           "Si," Penny hisses, "What took you so long?" Umm, how do I explain that my tall, pale, and handsome nemesis (what the fuck is wrong with me?) decided to undress in front of me; okay, granted, only his shirt but still, his chiseled naked torso. . . just. . . how can you look away from that?

            I shudder at my own thoughts, reminding my self that Baz is evil and just reply: "Baz," giving Penny a shrug.

"It's always Baz, with you." She looks at me for a minute, her eyebrows furrowing, but then turns her head so abruptly that some purple glitter from her hair lands on me. I scrunch my face trying to dust off the shimmer, wondering what my best friend means.

"Simon, do you happen to know where Mr Pitch is?" Miss Possibelf asks, interrupting my dusting.

"Oh umm! I think he's unwell-so he couldn't attend class. . . ,"  Oddly, I find myself making an excuse for my nemesis (who never gets sick, because he's a vampire) to skip class; and I'm surprised when some girl-probably a Pixie-pointedly says, "Basilton looked perfectly fine in my last class with him, I think he's just skipping, Miss-"

            Before she can even finish her sentence or Miss Possibelf can even think, I hear my own voice rise protectively, "Yeah well, Baz doesn't even know you or talk to you! How would you know what he's like when he gets sick, huh? And what's your problem?! You can't go around making assumptions about him! So mind your own business, okay?! And leave Baz alone!"

An uncomfortable silence takes over the room as I defend the one mage whom I'm usually threatening, and I realize that I'm exuding waves of potent Magick because I'm so angry and confused with my emotions. Why am I protecting Baz?! Why do I keep thinking about him this way? Why do I keep feeling this. . .

I just want to scream!

My frustration only increases when I look around, hating the look of fear in everyone's eyes as my magick thickens. . .

My mind however finds its way back to Baz, the way it always does. He's the only one who's never scared of my Magick, he's only scared for me.

He doesn't think I realize, but I know he worries about me even though he's the one who usually makes me go off. Baz plotting doesn't change the fact that he's the only one who trusts me with my Magick like that. . . who trusts that I would never hurt him. He knows I'll protect him no matter what. Even when I don't know it.

And that's why Baz doesn't mind aggravating me, isn't it?

He knows he'll be perfectly alright because I'll shelter him from my own fucking exploding. He's always too close when I go off. I held off my magick for the first time because of him only.
            (We were roaming the Wavering Wood looking for a specific leaf to add to this stupid potion for class. As usual I couldn't find it, and no searching spell would work for me. I was so pissed off I would've burst Watford. Baz noticed. And he hugged me, at least it looked like a hug. He grabbed my waist from behind even though I was overflowing with magick, and he bent down (tall bastard) resting his chin on my shoulder.