Breathless...

𝗛𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀

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Simon's POV

Baz Pitch. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm Pitch. My boyfriend's (at least I think he's my boyfriend. We haven't had that conversation yet.) name sounds evil. I snicker at the thought, while walking to the Weeping Tower to meet Agatha. I nervously chew on my lip and tug on my curls every two minutes, walking a little slower, dreading the thought of how this conversation would go.

             It had only been a day since Baz almost bit her, a whole day since I had even seen her, a wonderful day of me cheating on my girlfriend. I forgot we were still together. . . I know, I'm the absolute worst.

             Aleister Crowley, stupid me for being so obsessed with Baz. It was all his fault, he's pretty distracting.

             Crowley, I want the ground to swallow me whole. . . I gave a boy a blowjob, whereas I rarely even kissed my girlfriend. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

             I just never wanted to kiss Agatha, or be intimate with her. I just didn't care for it; everything felt so forced in our relationship. But with Baz, my heart races from just looking at him. I feel overwhelmed even by a single kiss. His love burns in his silver eyes. He's perfect.  And I'm confused again. Him and Agatha are both kind of perfect. She's polite, charming and beautiful; and he is alluring, captivating and intense. I s'pose Baz looks unnaturally perfect though. It's a vampire thing. (I think. I mean, it couldn't be possible for an actual human to be so attractive.) It is pretty strange. I can't help but love it. I love every vampire thing about him surprisingly. It took only a kiss. Or maybe I always secretly admired his super-strength, super-speed, night vision and Crowley knows what else.

             This might be one of my favorite things right after his fangs though, sometimes he'll just look at me, and forget to be normal. He stares, refusing to blink, unwaveringly still. A kind of still no creature but a vampire can be, because they do not need to breathe.

              Last night, he just straddled me, perfect hands flat beside my head, knees thrown around my waist. Completely still. . . his silver eyes glowing when he locked them with mine. He's so beautiful. His long hair formed a dark halo around his face, his unnaturally perfect, porcelain body shimmered in the moonlight that entered our room.

             "Simon,"  Agatha's high pitched voice pulls me out of Baz-land. It's safe to say, I wasn't quite ready to leave.

            "Simon, I thought we came here to talk, about Baz." She tucks her long, straight hair behind her ears, raising her brows expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest.

            "Yes we did—Agatha, I'm sure it must have been terrifying to be in that position. . . with him," I'm not sure how to start this conversation, but I know the only important thing is making sure she keeps Baz's secret.

            "Yes, just your usual Vampire-too-close-to-killing-me kind of terrifying. . ." she looks away. I do understand what she's saying, but this is Baz. He's at much more risk.

             "Agatha—Aggie—he's really sorry, I swear to Merlin, he was as scared as you. . . And you know he wouldn't hurt you. He's never hurt anyone."  I'm begging her to understand. I can't lose Baz, I can't lose him. He will get hurt if anyone finds out what he is, and I cannot let that happen.

             "Simon, he's the one with razor-sharp fangs." She deadpans.

              "He was losing control, you know Bazzy, he hates losing control. He's scared of it. He was trembling as much as you that night and you know it! " she can't possibly deny it! He was a mess, I'd know, he was crying with fear for his life. I know Baz wouldn't have hurt Agatha, but the Mage would destroy him. He was at much more risk.