Baz

I've told him it's okay to not be okay.

I've told him this a thousand times since the White Chapel, but Simon Snow is most stubborn prick I've ever known. And I love him. I, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, am hopelessly in love with Simon Snow.

He's never told me that he loves me, but I doubt he has any other choice. Crowley, who else could love him with that fucking tail of his? Bunce does, but she doesn't count. That's a different kind of love. My love is a flame that never goes out. A huge bright flame that at any moment in time could be my demise because I am flammable, oh so flammable. Simon Snow could turn me to ashes.

He's in my arms now. I swear, he feels like fire, well more than I do anyways. Since he became a Normal, I swear his temperature's gone up. Maybe it's just my imagination, or maybe it's because I'm not used to touching him. After all, there were only a few days before the White Chapel when I was able to touch him like this.

We don't talk much, Snow and I. Not since the White Chapel. I feel bad for him, and he knows and hates that I do. But we do touch. He lays in my arms and lets me kiss that mole on his neck. And I like holding his devil tail in my hands, sometimes I even kiss its arrow tip. The kissing is my favourite, though I think that Snow likes the touching the most. He takes my hand and lays his head against my bare shoulder.

At night, I sneak into his and Bunce's flat and meet him in his room. We sleep in his bed, and I think Bunce knows, but she never says anything. We never do anything besides sleep and kiss, which doesn't bother her as long as it's away from her. She hates when we show affection for eachother, but I know she's happy for us - for Simon, I mean. We're only half friends, Bunce and I.

"Baz?" Snow's voice breaks me out of my thoughts, though it's quiet and soft.

I look down at him, though he isn't looking at me. He's looking at his hand, which is in mine. My thumb rubs circles into his palm.

"Hmm?" I hum.

He takes a moment before continuing, and I almost think he isn't going to say anything. "I want to go back to your estate in Hampshire."

It takes me by surprise, of course it does. It's been six months months since our encounter with the humdrum at my family's estate. Why does he want to go back now?

"Simon-" I call him by his first name. I do that when I'm being soft with him, when I want something for him. When I'm truly trying to help him. "- I know you must feel like you have to, but you don't."

"No," he says, shaking his head and looking up at me, "I have to. I know I do. Professor Bunce suggested it to me a few months back and I didn't think I could." He pauses and looks down at his hands again. "But I was talking to my psychologist and she said that she thought it would be a good idea when I was ready." He looks up at me again. "Baz, I'm ready."

My head cocks slightly. "Are you sure?" He nods. "In the morning, we can go." I kiss his mole, and he leans into my lips. I can smell his blood, and the only thing that keeps me from sinking my fangs (which have come out now) into his skin is my love for him. Were that not a thing I would gladly make him my next meal.

When I pull away, he kisses me, one of his hands tangling in my hair, which would piss me off if it were earlier and my hair was properly done. But now, at 12:37 am, it just fuels the fire that is my love for him. His lips are soft and taste like the Earl Grey he had been sipping in bed. I wonder what I taste like to him.