writetomyheart | [Team two] To the grave

I don'd have much this time but it's something at least...

Simon x Baz; PG; ~350 words

“Let me dig my own grave in peace.” Simon jokes, he means for it to be funny, he’s probably been thinking it up for a while now.

It isn’t funny though, and not just because he isn’t actually digging a grave - not literally anyway, just figuratively.

“Are…” I start, the scene behind him forcing nostalgia up from my heart into my throat, forming a lump to choke me. “Are you sure?”

“Baz…” Simon sighs, nudging me back towards the door. “I’m sure…”

“I’m not sure…” I argue, back beyond the threshold now but staring past him into our old dorm room.

Simon puts his hands on his hips, his old fighting stance still makes me melt a little inside. “You’re not sure that you love me?”

With his words I melt a little more. “I love you.” I confirm.

His head tilts to the side. “Then you’re just not sure you want to be with me forever?”

My eyes cast back at our beds, innocence more than a decade old reverberates between them. I knew even then I wanted to be with him forever. I didn’t know it was an option. “I love you.” I say desperately, because I do. Because I know what forever means for me, and I know what forever means for him.

“You’re not sure I can do this?” He sighs, it’s more deflated this time. It’s the one doubt that I’ve seen mirrored in his eyes.

I reach up to stroke his cheeks, the crows feet that have formed too soon beside his eyes, smile lines. “I don’t want you to be a monster.” I breathe.

“You’d rather watch me die?”

He’s being dramatic, he’s thirty years old - he’s got years left, decades, a future.

It’s the one doubt that wavers in my heart.

I don’t think I’ll ever think of him as weak, but without magick, Simon is Normal. Right now he’s mortal.

Tonight I’m supposed to make him immortal.

I glance back into the room behind him (it had to be our old Watford dorm, I’m dramatic, sue me), at his preparations - dustsheets half draped over a waterproof mattress cover, because neither of us know how messy this is supposed to be. And I nod.

“Your grave isn’t going to dig itself.”

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