Simon

We've ended up curled around each other in the window, the moon rising steadily. I'm lying against his chest, his arms around my middle, keeping me close. Not really thinking about anything, just being with each other. A rare, comfortable silence.

But it's getting late.

I run a thumb over the back of his hand, "bed?"

He rests his chin on my shoulder, his hair tickling the side of my neck. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep much," he says, sounding resigned.

I let myself lean into him more, "me either."

He hums, "does your cheek still hurt?"

I thread my fingers into his, "nah."

He presses a kiss to my temple, "shall we stay here, then?"

I wiggle down a bit so I'm resting my head against his chest, "hmm."

He runs a hand through my hair as I settle. I can hear his heartbeat like this, it's a sort of proof that he's alive. It's still loud. Faster, like it had been before. But Baz doesn't seem scared, just troubled. "It really is louder," I mumble.

"What is?"

I can hear the frown in his voice.

"Your heart," I say, listening closer. It's usually so slow. And there's a …warmth there? Why is…

I realise something.

I pull away suddenly, a jolt of panic running to my own heart. "You haven't fed!" I exclaim.

He groans, leaning back. "Fuck."

I look out the window again; eyes settling on the woods outsides Baz's house. "It's not far," I say.

Baz runs a hand over his face, "I wish you hadn't said that. I'd almost forgotten how hungry I am."

I push myself out of his lap, facing him. "I could bring you something ba-"

"No," Baz barks, a little too quickly.

I frown, "what-"

He takes a breath, "sorry, I- You don't need to… I'll go; I know my way through the woods better."

"Alright," I say, studying him closely.

He gets up, grabbing his discarded blazer from the bedpost. "I'll be back soon."

I watch him go, and uncomfortable feeling settling in my stomach.

Something isn't right.


Baz

It had been nice, to hunt without looking over my shoulder so much. Sometimes I forget what that's like. No Mage, no students, no spying ghosts in the shadows. Just the monsters that roam the woods and their prey. My prey.

Deer have more blood, so I don't follow my earlier tactic with the goat to kill it. It would take too long to die, to bleed out, even with me hurrying the process along.

I break its neck.

It's harder than usual.

I cast my spell, watch the strip of red appear at its throat. No bite marks anymore. More brutal. More mess.

I drink.


Simon

I follow him, and it feels like when we were kids and it was all a game of cat and mouse. Never quite knowing who was the mouse and who was the cat. Me, utterly fixated on confirming my suspicion. And he, able to put an end to it if I ever went too far or saw too much, and never doing just that.

He breaks the deer's neck easier than I can swing my sword. It's quick. I don't think the deer even heard him approach. The moon provides enough light through the gaps in the trees for me to see. He drinks, and there's nothing seductive or beautiful about it like there is in the films. He's holding onto it tightly, his body almost shaking as he drinks. Long, desperate swallows.

It's horrific. Monstrous.

But it's Baz.

And he's neither of those things.

He's starving.

There's a gasp, like he's coming up for breath, and he falls back onto his heel.

And sits

He's just …sitting.

Why doesn't he get up? Does he need to wait a bit for it to go down? Is he in shock? Does that happen? I've never thought about it. Drinking something's blood can't be pleasant, and Baz never talks about it. Even before. He's just sitting there, hands on his knees.

I creep a little closer. Something had seemed wrong before? Is this it? Is this why he never wants me to see? Because he goes into shock? I want to go to him, but I think that might be the last straw. If this is normal, I should wait. See. If it gets worse than I'll-

Baz gags, falling forward onto his hands and knee, blood dripping from his mouth. He convulses horribly. Red. So much red.

I abandon my hiding spot and run, falling to my knees beside him. I don't give a fuck if he doesn't want me to see.

He stiffens, "Simon-" He falls forward, and it happens again.

His hair falls into his face, so I bring it behind his ears. Just in time. "Christ, Baz…" I mumble, taking hold of his shoulder, so he doesn't fall forward. I don't know what else to do.

"Simon," he gasps, trying to move out of my grasp, "get away. I asked you not-"

I hold on, "Baz, why are you..."

He growls, "Simon, let g-." He chokes on his words, falling forward again. More blood. There cannot be any left. Merlin and Morgana, there can't be. All that blood…

I find his other shoulder, "Baz, what was that? Are you hurt?"

He spits, red. "I don't know."

He's breathing is less shallow now, so I think he must be done. I help him sit back on his heels, an arm around his middle, "was the deer bad or something?" I say. "Did you drink too much? Merlin, do you need water, or-"

He pushes my hands away. "No, Simon. Look, you're getting blood on you. Just move away."

I hold on, "I'm not letting you fall in your own sick, Baz."

He sags in my hold, a small resigned breath escaping him. "It wasn't the deer."

I frown, "well then why-"

"I can't keep it down."

I pause.

Silent.

Baz shifts, "Simon…"

I tighten my hold, a pit in my stomach forming, "what do you mean?"

"The blood," he says, voice low, "I haven't been able to keep it down since it happened."

And suddenly I'm angry.

Had none of it… All this time. I thought he was healing. He said he was fine. A growl leaves me, "Baz, you should have said something!"

His hand leaves my arm, going to his knee. "I know… It was just a quarter or so the first time, so I didn't… I thought I was just adjusting."

I swallow, feeling my teeth grind. Now I'm just angry at the world. For not letting Baz have a moment, a day, to just breathe. "Has it been this bad before?" I say, eventually.

"No," he manages, "not this bad."

I let my hand fall over his abdomen. He feels thinner too, I realise. "Are you… are you getting weaker?" I ask, hesitant.

"I didn't lose all of it the last few times," he says slowly. "And there was the blood puddings."

He's only had… "That's not enough, Baz!"

"I know!" he snaps. "…I know. Look, I don't want this to be happening, but I think…" He breathes shakily. "I think that without my fangs, the blood is like poison to me. At least, my stomach thinks so."

"Humans aren't supposed to drink blood…" I mumble. I'd read about it when I'd first suspected what he might be. Wondering.

He growls, "I'm not human, Simon!"

What can I say. That he is? He's not- of course he's not. But sometimes I think he thinks that means he's without humanity. Even humans can be without that. Real monsters. Mages and Normal's alike. I think I should remind him of that.

His stomach growl under my hand, and a moment later I hear a small whimper, muffled under his hand. Is he crying? I find the hand that's still digging into the knee of his jeans, and hold it in mine. "Baz?"

"I'm so hungry."

And then I wonder.

I remember.

"This might sound stupid," I warn, "but have you …eaten anything lately?"

He pulls his hand away, "I just tried, Simon!"

I shake my head, letting go of him so I can move and actually see his face, wary of the bloodied ground. "I mean regular food," I amend, "we left before lunch, and I know you haven't had the chance to eat since then."

His eyes darken, "I need blood, not a sandwich."

I shrug, finding the bottom of my shirt with my fingers. "I don't know, maybe you're just regular-hungry, and are sick from not eating much." I twist the fabric in my fingers, "when you don't eat for a while, anything in your stomach can make you feel sick. Even if you're really hungry."


Baz

I feel my teeth clench, watching as he fidgets.

The Mage left him in that place.

Again, and again.

Year.

After.

Year.


Simon

He's looking right at me, but he seems to be somewhere else. I nudge him gently, "Baz?"

Swallowing, his expression loses all traces of …whatever it was he was thinking about. It's almost softer. "Simon," he says, sounding almost careful, "I don't think that's why…"

I let go of my shirt, "could we just try? That way we'll know for sure."

"Whether I'm dying, you mean," he says grimly.

"No," I say firmly, "it will rule out whether there's something else going on or not."

He looks at me carefully, "alright."


Baz

Simon Snow is making me soup.

In my family kitchen, in the middle of the night.

Merlin and Morgana, I think I must have died, for there is no way this could be real.

But I haven't, and he's there. Making me soup.

We'd gone back to my room to change into something less bloodied, and Simon finally gets out of his Watford uniform. He has to borrow my clothes, and they're a bit small, and a bit long, but it's sort of endearing. I also want to set fire to our uniforms but Simon wouldn't approve. Because of the fire, not the uniforms. 'You're bloody flammable, Baz,' he would say. 'So is everything,' I would say, setting the clothes on fire.

Oh, to dream.

Soon after entering the kitchen, I'd cast a small silencing spell at my own expense. It proves to have been quite wise. Simon is fucking loud at cooking. Louder than my bloody stomach, too. He still has Penny's phone and he's using it to play music while he cooks. And of course it's Elvis. The soup smells wonderful though. I hadn't even known he could cook. Well, I suppose soup isn't too complicated. Actually I think it's a broth, judging by the ingredients and how he's making it. More liquid than anything else, easy to keep down. 'Still food', as he had said.

He's got his back to me, turned to the stove. He looks kind of ridiculous in my pyjamas, because they're unmistakably mine. Watching him, a warmth grows in my chest. An overwhelming affection. He's making me food, because he was worried I was hungry.

The warmth grows.

I push off the counter and go to him, sliding my arms around his middle. It's a good thing I'm taller, because I can hook my chin over his shoulder and pretend that I'm watching him cook.

"Careful of the stove," he says, swaying with me a little, a chuckle hidden in his voice.

I hum, pressing my face into his shoulder and move with him, soaking in his warmth. He's always so warm.

His hands find mine, "you okay back there?"

More warmth. So much warmth.

I press a kiss into the base of his neck, "I love you."

Simon melts.


Simon

I think I might explode.


Baz

I smile, placing my chin back on his shoulder, "soup is burning."

His hands dart for the gages, "oh shit."

I refuse to let go.

-v-v-

I think that perhaps, he may have been just a little bit right.

I'm less hungry.

But I'm not sure if it's just in the human way.

I'll find out later, I suppose.

I'll crave it again.

But right now I'm just going to pretend that It's all fixed and let myself lie here. My head in Simon's lap, his fingers carding through my hair.

"Have you told them about what happened yet?"

Never mind.

I sigh, opening my eyes. "No, not yet."

He takes a section of my hair in his hands, "you going to?"

I know he means when. And he's probably right, there isn't an option with this. I need to tell them. Because if I don't they'll find out themselves, and that will be so much worse. I stare at the ceiling, "I don't really have a choice."

He nods, and I can vaguely see him trying to twist three separate strands of my hair, a look of deep concentration on his face.

He's trying to braid my hair.


Simon

Baz's shoulders start shaking.

I freeze, "Baz?"

He's got his hand over his face, but I think he's crying. Fuck, I shouldn't have asked him about it. Fuck, shit fuck. I hold onto his shoulder, "Baz? Please talk to me."

Baz makes a sound, and the hand falls away from his face.

He's fucking laughing.

I gape, "Baz, what the hell?"

"You're such an idiot, Simon," he laughs, a lopsided smile on his face. And then he's moving up, and I'm going down. His hands on my shoulders, and my lips already on his.

I think I'll keep being an idiot forever.