Prologue

The Beginning Of The End

The dreams were gone. The nightmares that had haunted Simon's mind for as long as he could remember were gone. All of them. Every last one of them. Gone. And he had Baz to thank. He he laughed a little at the prospect because it was just a little more than difficult to fathom that his childhood nemesis had grown into his saviour. Simon didn't know if he could even call him a friend at this point. But 'acquaintance' just wasn't enough either. Not after what they'd been through together.

They dropped to the ground, their heavy limbs sprawled on the earth and their damp hair sticking to the grass with sweat. They were bloodied and dirty and beaten and not worn out so much as worn through. But they had done it. They had made it out. And it was over. All of it. Over. And he still had Baz to thank...

"Thanks." Simon let his tongue speak his gratitude before he could regret it.

"What for?" Baz spat, (literally), but not from disgust so much from the taste of blood that was still clinging to his mouth. He was done with that taste. Done with the thirst for the scarlett fluid. He was tired of being the haunter. He didn't want to be a monster anymore. Not while he still had a say in it. But that was the problem. He never had a say in it to begin with. The curse of a vampire was something that chose him. And it was apparently too fond of him to leave.

"For exterminating the evil of the Humdrum of course." His tone was edgy and he suddenly felt irritable. Baz always brought out the worst in him. But this time already felt different than all those other times. This time already felt more real than all those other times. This time was different. This time, Simon was different.

"I was aiming for you, you arrogant git." Baz snapped. Baz. Always snapping. But he was snapping for whole different reasons this time. Reasons even He didn't yet understand. But he felt them in his cold veins that. They were different reasons. How did he know this? Because for the first time in as far back as he remebered, Baz felt warm inside. And that was what scared him. The truth of what was happening between them. "Of what had been happening between them for awhile now. A truth they both tried so hard to bury. But Baz was tired of the dirt and the shovels. He was tired of burying what he felt. And he could only hope that Simon was too. But that was the thing about hope; it was deceptive.

"You were not." Simon said, (because he knew it was true).

"Careful Snow, that's a dangerous assumption." Baz warned. Because if he got too close, Simon would get hurt. If he got too close, Baz would be too afraid to face what he really wanted. It was funny how he could have the courage to face the Insidious Hundrum in a dual of armed combat and emerge victorious by the blade of the sword he wielded without batting an eyelash but he could face a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed git. But then again, Baz kept forgetting that it wasn't Simon whom he was scared of. It was he himself whom he feared most.

"It wasn't an assumption."

"Is that a threat?" Baz challenged, and hesitated for a moment in anticipation for his fangs to bare in his anger. But they never did. Because he wasn't angry. He was... Something else.

"No. That was a promise." His blue eyes were as cold as stone, and Baz knew that He was serious.

Simon watched the moonlight settle on Baz's pale complexion where it caressed his his face delicately and softened his features where they were sharp. And it was then that Simon realized that it was what he loved most about Baz, that he could never be dulled like a blade could be over time. He hadn't considered how much he'd studied the plains of Baz's face until that night. The night that was already different from all the rest. And Simon knew. He knew. He knew everything.

Baz noticed that Simon's blonde hair, though dirty with the blood and sweat now, still glowed in the moonlight. And the deep blue in his eyes looked like stars etched in his skull. And Simon was the falling star that Baz wanted to catch and put in his pocket and save for a rainy day. He was mesmerizing. Baz had never remembered falling this hard or this long or wanting something this much. Or someone as much as he did. But if he didn't know then, he definitely knew now. Baz knew. He knew. He knew everything.

Simon felt Baz's cheek in his palm before he could pull it away.

"Simon..."

"Basilton..." He said it slowly, every syllable oozing off his tongue with effort because he didn't want the taste of it on his lips to end. And that was the first time he ever called Baz by his whole name. And he, Baz loved it. but it was too much. Simon was too much. they were too much.

"Don't..."

"Shh..."

"You'll get hurt you know... I'll hurt you."

"Wouldn't be a first..."

"And won't be the last..."

"Is that a promise?"

"No. It's a threat."

He felt his eyes closing before he could open them again. And Simon's lips tasted of honey and sweat, and his skin smelled of soap and nothing short of boy. Baz wanted to roll around in Simon and wear him like a tourniquet. He wanted this kiss to be the start of something.

Baz tasted of blood and tears, but Simon couldn't help thinking of it as all the years wasted apart washing away with the nightmares. He wanted the taste of Baz's mouth to be the last flavour he fell asleep with on his tongue and the first thing he tasted in the morning. He pale skin was oily and slick but still smooth. The skin was still his, and underneath it he was still Baz. And Simon wanted to leave a mark on every inch of it.

Baz pulled away when he couldn't catch his breath, but didn't go far. He would never go far. Not again. Not now. Not ever.

"Just promise me one thing," He whispered, their lips still touching.

"What's that?"

"Just," He paused, not to search for the right words so much as for dramatic effect. Because he didn't need to search for the right words. They were always on his lips, waiting to be spoken. The right words for the right moment. And this was it. "Carry on."

Simon's lips bent into a smile and Baz felt it. And he knew. They knew that this smile was not the end of something, but the start.