How to Carry On

II || Simon

 Baz tastes like those fancy mint chocolates that you find on your pillow at fancy hotels. He's been carrying those mints around in his pocket since his family moved. He's a sucker for mint and chocolate. Putting them together is like magic to him.

I love the touch of him, but, Aleister Crowley, do I love the taste of him. Kissing Baz is a fucking dream, a dream that I never imagined myself being in. All the years that I've known him, I've thought he was plotting my demise, finding a way to kill me, and he even did attempt sometimes, but what he's actually been doing for seven years is plotting a way to kiss me and kiss me and kiss me until my lips are numb.

I pull away from him and lay my head on his bare, stone cold chest, one of my fingers trailing down his abdomen. He closes his eyes. He loves it when I do that.

I still don't know if I'm gay, and my psychologist says I shouldn't be worried about whether I am or not at this point in time (apparently losing my magic and accidentally killing my mentor should), but I know that I do love Baz. Even if I don't say it out loud, and even if I only realized it recently. I spent seven years being absolutely obsessed with him. I wonder when that obsession turned from fear to love?

I love him, but there are still things that I hate about him. I made a list.

1. The way he sneers at Penny and I

I know that now it's more of a joking kind of sneer, a comical reflection on our previous relationship, but now that I have him and he's mine and we're together, I don't want to even think of how things used to be. I know we'll never be the lovey dovey couple who were Watford sweethearts, but I'd like to at least pretend that we were.

2. The way he calls me 'Normal'

Again, I know it's a joke to him, but I don't think he sees how it hurts me. He doesn't understand how hard it is to be a Normal, well, a Normal with a stupid fucking tail and wings.

3. The way he feels sorry for me

He tells me that he doesn't, that it's not his place to feel sorry for me and that only I can feel sorry for myself but that bastard's been lying to me since I first met him. I bloody well know when he's lying. Though he can keep a straight face and his demeanour doesn't change, there are other signs that only I can see. When he lies to me, his breathing quickens (Shocking. Vampires have to breathe?), and he tries to hide that by holding his breath. His cheeks, after a moment, gain the slightest flush that anyone would think was just a trick of the light, but I know the truth.

He feels sorry for me.

4. He's afraid to use his magic in front of me

Really, this should be part of #3, but that paragraph was getting too long.

Baz has been using less magic since the White Chapel. He doesn't do any little spell that would be a 'waste of magic.' He doesn't use magic on my tail or wings, Penny is the one that makes them invisible. Baz says he's too lazy, but I know he just feels bad that he has his magic and I'm the only mage in history to lose his.

And when Baz does use his magic in front of me, he gives me this look beforehand that looks like it's saying "Tell me if this is too much for you." It's annoying. If anything, I wish he would use magic as much as he could. I miss it. I miss seeing it, feeling it. If I can't cast a spell again (or screw up a spell again, I should say), then I at least want Baz to. And as someone who lost his magic, I should be able to tell you that it isn't a bad thing to take advantage of your power. Why, if I still had my magic, I'd use it to take Baz and I to the stars again.

That night that Baz and I took to the stars, well I think that's the night that I realized that my obsession could be more than fear. At one point, as I was pressing my hands against him, pushing my magic into him, I opened my eyes and he looked into mine. His pupils dilated, and the only times I've ever seen someone look at me that way was back when Agatha loved me. Back when I loved her.

Baz has these gorgeous blue eyes that I swear are like two oceans. I could get lost in those eyes. And that night, though I thought his dilating eyes were caused by his drunken state that my magic put him in, a flip switched inside me. Suddenly, I wanted to hold his hand. Then, I was pulling back, shaking my head, thinking that perhaps I was the drunk one there.

I never told him. Maybe I will someday.

Anyway, I know he's worried about me, but I know I can do this. I need to do this. Professor Bunce said that I could take this opportunity to help me carry on.

And that's what I need to do.