A/N: Many thanks to my amazing friend and beta reader, who I currently can't get a hold of to ask their account name. Our the best! Also thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to read my work... As you've doubtless heard a million times, Follows, Favs and Reviews are more than welcome!

SIMON

Smash. The flimsy door to our room slams and Baz storms in, flopping down on his bed without so much as a hello. Jerk. Not that I would expect anything different, just another attempt to needle me… Apparently he's running out of ideas, this isn't exactly like him.

"Good to see you too, Baz." I say.

"Shut up, Snow." Comes the muffled reply from the bed.

Very not like him. "Whatever you say, vampire boy."

He shoots upright, "What did you say?"

"Vampire boy," I say, trying my best to copy his patent smirk. Looks like our latest theory might be right, Penny, Agatha, and mine, that is.

As if trying to confirm my thoughts, he says, "Don't. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again."

"You got it, vampire bo—"

Baz is gone again, another slam of the door cutting off the end of my sentence.

Weird, I think to myself and turn back to my homework. Suddenly though, spells of the sixth century don't hold my attention, not that it was an interesting topic to begin with. The half translated spell on my paper seems to be something about invisibility, which gives me an idea. Slipping into my jacket, I too leave.

Baz is nowhere in sight when I get outside, neither is anyone else so I cast Mom, Have You Seen My… Baz, generally it's for inanimate objects but I figure it should work just as well with him. A woman's voice yells back, "Have you checked your room?"

I yell back, "Yes." This is the only problem with the spell, sometimes it takes a while, but the first place you haven't checked is always right.

"What about the catacombs?"

"No," then add, "thanks mum," to end the spell.

The catacombs, I think. What would he be doing down there? Drinking rat blood? Simon, I chide myself, being mean to Baz's face is one thing, but I don't hate him… Much. I means he's tried to make the last five years of my life hell. I think I should forgive him though, I'm not as clueless as he thinks, and something about me genuinely upsets him. Bloody impossible boy.

I almost don't find the entrance to the catacombs, and when I descend the stairs I wish I hadn't. Clinging darkness surrounds me and the smell of dead rats is palpable. I can't imagine Baz here. I continue anyways. "Baz?" I call. "Basilton?"

Something runs over my foot; I feel claws through my shoes and somehow I end up screaming like a little girl, or boy, if you want to be less sexist. Unfortunately, the things that go bump in the dark have just started with me. Something scrapes the wall beside me and I almost turn around and leave. Instead, I pull out the little keychain torch (the electric kind) I've kept with me since two summers ago when I got lost after being sent to the store… Not exactly a high point. Something drips onto my shoulder and I decide to keep moving. "Baz?" I call again, only my echo answers.

Each corridor seems to lead me deeper underground, stone blocks now and then give way to dirt. The ground sticks to my shoes, the air makes my clothes stick to the rest of me, and the rats, I try not to think about them, but I swear I saw one bigger than a cat. If this isn't bad enough everything here sets my magic on edge, it feels as if I could go off at any second. The only good thing about this place is it brings me closer to answers, what exactly Baz is, and what he's planning to do to me this year.

I've been searching at least two hours before I realize I'm lost, it starts as just a nagging suspicion, the odd have I seen that skull before? Until it reaches a full on panic, of course it's at that moment my torch flickers once and goes out, leaving me in the dark and too buzzed to use magic. I place a hand on the wall and try and convince myself the things around my feet aren't alive, and that someone will find me.

BAZ

Simon's in the room when I return, not that I notice at first, I've just finished talking to my family which is an ordeal enough when I don't have to try and convince them we don't need to kill my roommate.A second later and I regret it, vampire boy, I want to kill him, not that that's new I always want to kill him, actually it is new, generally I want to kiss him, not that he knows it. I storm out,I don't have to deal with him, not now, not tonight.

The catacombs welcome me, I don't smell them anymore and without light angering the rats they leave me well enough alone. That's what I wanted, to be left along, isn't it? My mind lingers on Snow longer than it should, I wouldn't mind so much being alone with him, at least the way I want. Not fighting or in anger charged silence, hand in hair, lips— I cut off my train of thought forcefully. I came down here to get away from Snow, or at least that's what I'll keep telling myself. Before I can let anymore thoughts of him invade my head, I start hunting, quickly catching and draining several rats. I'm on my sixth to be exact, when I first hear the voice calling my name. My heart leaps involuntarily, partly because his voice does that to me, mostly because he could discover my secret, and if my life isn't hell enough now, it would be then. I sit in the dark, listening to him call for me, and laughing quietly at the several squeaks he makes, presumably in response to rats. I wait for a few minutes longer, but as fun as hearing Snow stumble around in the dark is, I have homework and I've eaten. Quietly I sneak past him out of the catacombs, determined to get back to our room and be hard at work when he returns.

But he doesn't, not for the next two hours.

SIMON

I'm not claustrophobic, at least that's what I tell myself. Unfortunately, it doesn't change the fact that I can feel the darkness compressing me, making it hard to breath, choking out all of my thoughts until only panic remains. "Help!" I yell into the darkness. It echoes back at me, fainter and fainter. No one comes. I want to cast a spell, but the smoky sent in the air warns me not to, I know for a fact I would go off… I almost already am. I'm alone, minus the rats, and completely helpless, wouldn't Baz have a field-day with this, except I don't care. I could take Baz's teasing for the rest of my life just to be out of here. That's when the thoughts start to creep in, what if this is the rest of my life, here in the dark, eaten by rats? What if no one ever finds me? What if no one cares? And just like that I'm blubbering like a toddler, which certainly doesn't help my situation, but it certainly expresses how I feel. Not like anyone will see it.

BAZ

I try and focus, but it's getting really late, Simon should be back by now. I write another sentence or two on the uses of lyrics as spells, but I can't concentrate. A nagging little voice in the back of my head won't shut up about the lack of Snow, and I can't help but pay attention to it. What Ifs and It Could Happens skip around my head. The one thing in common between all of them, Snow in trouble. If you get up you're an idiot, I tell myself. I get up. If you open the door, I try again. I do it anyways, I always do when Snow is involved.

I can smell him in the catacombs, well I smell his magic, smoky and promising the threat of an explosion. Just effing perfect. I practically sprint after it; if Snow tries magic down here it could very likely be the end of both of us. I run a good half a mile before I find him, back against the wall and crying. Crowley.

SIMON

I know someone's found me, a tap on my shoulder alerts me to it. It's too dark to see whoever it is, but my best guess is Penny, she probably snuck into Baz's and my room, then came to find me. I practically tackle her to the ground, wrapping my arms around her waist and burying my face in her neck, so glad to have her have found me that it takes a second to realize that Penny doesn't have short hair, or a boy's body. Whoever this is it's most definitely not her. I cling to them—him anyways. Apparently near death experiences do this to me.

BAZ

I tap Snow on the shoulder, and suddenly he's arms are wrapped around me, and he's quite literally crying on my shoulder. Not that I mind. I know it's not fair for me enjoy this, but it's rather hard not to. I wrap my arms around him too, trying to comfort him without having my voice give me away and end this. His warmth spreads through my body, and the smell of smoke lessons by the second, maybe I should do this more often. I wouldn't though, it's too mean, even for me, and Snow isn't supposed to be like this, shaking and vulnerable, he's supposed to be clueless and hate me. Crowley, the way he's clinging to me doesn't seem like hate, he doesn't know it's you, I remind myself. This moment is too good to be true, and eff that's messed up, but honestly I couldn't think of anything I'd rather be doing. Snow's body is pressed into me and it makes it rather hard to think, uneven breaths tickle the back of my neck making it hard to keep my own breathing steady, but I do, not because I don't want to let him know how I feel—if he hasn't guessed by now he probably never will— but because it's one of the few ways I know to comfort someone without talking. I pull him closer, trying to quell the last of his shaking, but it doesn't seem to have any effect, so I do the hardest thing I've done all year, I break the silence, "It's okay, Snow."

SIMON

I've changed my mind, I'm going to mind Baz teasing me about this, because this mystery boy I'm holding onto is him, because the boy I'm crying against is him, because the boy who is holding me and telling me it'll be okay is him. I should let go of him, the last thing I want is to give him any more reason to hate me, although this doesn't feel like hate, this doesn't feel like the Baz I know at all. So instead I say, "Thanks, Baz." And concentrate on making myself stop shaking. Then, finally, I let go, asking, "How do we get out of here?"

Baz grabs my hand, saying, "Follow me, Snow." Then adding, "No, I can't make a light, it angers the rats."

Baz

It's true, it really does, and I don't know any night vision spells, I've never needed one. I wouldn't torture myself like this if I did, believe me. Anyways, it shouldn't take to long the get out of here, and Snow doesn't seem in danger of freaking out… Lucky me. Not that I'm complaining, I'm acutely aware of Snow's hand in mine, every place we're touching sends sparks shooting from it. This isn't fair, I wish I had this affect on him, as if that could ever happen. At least he didn't let go once he knew it was you, the thought somehow manages to worm its way to the surface, and I immediately squash it down, the more I think things like this the more painful it is to be around him. The more I want to tell him, I love you, Snow.