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I’m just falling asleep when Snow abruptly comes into the room. He doesn't even bother to turn on the light —he throws himself directly onto his bed, letting out a groan of pain.
"Snow, let me sleep." I complain. I turn to his bed, and instantly regret what I said.
Snow has wounds on his torso, staining his shirt with blood. Apparently, he has a few more on his face, and a thin thread of blood runs down his chin.
I turn on the lights in the room to better observe Simon's disastrous state.
"What the fuck did you do to end up like this, Snow? Do you need help?" I stand next to his bed, afraid of touching him and hurting him even more. His eyes narrow with difficulty, without their characteristic bluish glow.
"I'm fine Baz, go back to sleep." His voice sounds laboured, like his throat is closing. I kneel, taking my wand from the desk.
"Stop lying and tell me what happened to you."
"The Mage sent me to raid off a group of trolls that were causing trouble near here. Clearly, I couldn't kill them off without getting some blows."
Simon tries to get up on his elbows, but it only makes the bloodstain on his side spread. The smell is driving me crazy, and I don't know how, but I'm keeping control.
I try to make him lie down, pushing his forehead, and that’s when I discover that he’s burning in fever.
"This wasn't caused by some blows, Snow."
"They had some kind of weird daggers, they had some blue glow or something. I have no idea what was it."
His eyes are closed; his breathing is laboured, making his chest rise and fall rapidly.
I point my wand at his wounds, but before casting a spell on him, my hand holds the hem of his shirt, in an attempt to lift it.
"Can l?" He opens his eyes to look at me. He nods, and closes them again.
The wound on his abdomen doesn't look too bad, it looks more like an accidental scratch. But the worrying one is the one on his side, right where his ribs end; it seems to be deep, and has a faint blue glow at the edges. The blood keeps coming out slowly, but it’s so much that I can feel my fangs threatening to drop.
I cast at least five healing and one cleaning spells, however, although the wounds have stopped bleeding and healed, the marks still remain. When I put my hand on them, Snow complains again.
"I'm afraid they’ve caused internal damage, that would explain the fever." I whisper more to myself than him. Maybe I should take him to the infirmary, or call the Mage —no, not him. It's his fault Simon's like this, the bloody bastard.
Or maybe I could ask Bunce for help. If I had a way to contact her.
I guess I'll have to take care of him.
I shed his bloody shirt, covering him with one of my sheets. Of all the times I imagined seeing Simon naked, this was never an option.
The scent of his blood stays in my nose, and it's driving me crazy. I leave the shirt in the bathroom, making a mental note to throw it away —or burn it— in the morning.
I moisten a towel, to put it on his forehead and control his fever while I can think of something better to help him. Snow is shivering, and sweat glows on the skin of his neck and forehead.
Eventually, Simon falls asleep. I stay on my knees by his bed, watching over his sleep.
"Baz ..." I open my eyes, disoriented. I fell asleep sitting on the floor, my head on Snow's mattress. He’s still asleep, I discover that he talks in his dreams. "No, Baz."
And he's dreaming of me. My poor heart can't help but speed up.
"Baz, don't leave me, please."
I take his hand, stroking the back. “I'm here, Simon. I’ll always be here. "
I know he can't hear me, and that he won't remember any of this in the morning.
His hand gives mine a little squeeze, before his eyes narrow. He hasn't stopped shaking, and his fever is still there.
“Do you need something?” I whisper. He nods and tries to sit up.
“Water.”
Thanks magic, I always keep a jug in the room. I pour a glass, and help him up a bit, so he can drink, even if it means holding his back.
Clearly, he doesn't even imagine the effect it has on me.
His hand goes to the wounds on his torso, applying a little pressure. I can tell, by the expression on his face, it still hurts.
"Go back to sleep, Simon."
His tired eyes look at me; if he already didn't hate me, I’d even think that what I see in his eyes is tenderness.
"Are you going to stay with me?"
I nod, then bring his hand to my lips, giving him a soft kiss. He smiles, and whispers something.
"I've always dreamed of that." I try to let go of his hand, but he tightens his grip. "I had always dreamed of a kiss of yours."
Despite my tiredness, I open my eyes as wide as I can. It's like some of my fantasies with him are coming true.
"You're delirious, Snow. I'm going to wet the towel again." He laughs a little.
"I don't think so. Have I ever told you how handsome you are?"
The small amount of blood in my body goes right to my cheeks. Crowley, what a blessing that he can't see me right now.
I put the towel back on his forehead, wetter this time. The fever hasn't subsided, and none of the spells I've cast on him have worked.
"Get some rest." He settles down to sleep again, without letting go of my hand.
I’m hopelessly in love with him, and I’d do anything to make him feel alright. The war and the hate between us can wait.
I try to think of a healing spell, one that I haven't already used on him, without success. There are a couple that I haven’t got to control yet, and one more that is absolutely out of the question.
"A true love's kiss."
It’s useful to wake someone seriously injured from a coma or a faint, and logically, it only works if your true love kisses you. I don't know if it has more magical effects, and I don't dare to try it on him. And less if he’s not awake.
Dawn inevitably comes, but Simon is not much better. Maybe I should go down to the dining room and get him some food and find Bunce.
Luckily, I don’t have to go out and look for her. She reaches out to knock on our bedroom door, scared and worried once she sees the state of her best friend. She doesn't even seem to notice that he's still holding my hand.
"What happened to him?"
I tell him everything. About The Mage’s mission he sent Simon to, the trolls, and the poisoned daggers. About his unhealed wounds and his fever. About the spells that I have cast on him, and the only one that I haven’t dared to try.
"You should go down for breakfast. I'll take care of him." I nod, going into the bathroom to change my clothes, and finally getting out.
I bring food for Simon too. Dev and Niall stare at me in amazement when they notice that I don't walk over to the table with them, and that instead I barely nod at them.
When I return to the room, Simon has already woken up. I offer him food from the tray I brought, and he accepts.
"The fever is not getting better. Perhaps we should try that spell."
"I don't think so, Bunce. We don't know its true effects."
She looks tenderly at Simon, stroking the curls on his head. Then she comes closer to me, as if she's about to tell me a secret.
"I think you could make it work."
I freeze. She returns to Simon, telling him that she will go down to the library to find something to help him. When she passes me, she puts a hand on my shoulder, accompanied by a barely audible "do it".
Snow doesn't eat much before leaving the tray on his bureau. He has the same look from a few hours ago again, the one I can't decipher.
I kneel next to him again, holding my wand. For the first time, I am scared of his presence, of what he makes me feel.
“I'm going to try one last spell.” The words are out of my mouth before I can help it. He nods, taking my hand —the one not holding the wand— and kissing the back.
"I trust you."
I cast the spell on him, and then gently hold his face.
I'm about to kiss Simon Snow.
I lean down to brush his lips with mine, before really kissing him. It doesn’t last more than a few of seconds, but it is enough to make a whole a revolution inside me.
I move back, knowing that I’ve ruined everything. I’ve been exposed and vulnerable to him, by a spell that surely has not worked.
His hand —still holding mine— reaches for his wounds. He doesn't even complain, and when he lifts the sheet, the bluish glow is gone. Only a fine white line remains, like any scar.
"Do you feel better?" To my surprise, he nods.
I feel a tear slide down my cheek.
I'm not sure what it means that the spell worked. I don't know what that kiss meant, or the things he said to me at dawn. I don't know what I mean to Simon Snow, and I'm terrified to know. That I don't mean to him what he means to me.
"I have to leave."
"Baz, no." I try to get up, but he doesn't let go of my hand. "You said you would stay with me."
"Do you remember? What did you say last night?"
"Yes. And I remember the way you kissed my hand, and the times you said you couldn't bear to lose me."
He heard me.
"Snow, I…"
"I also remember that you called me Simon."
I sit on the edge of his bed, staring at him. His hand wipes the tears from my face, sitting up, so he can see me better.
"Thank you for saving me. And for being here with me." He leans in until his arms hold on my neck, leaving little kisses on my shoulder.
I can't not hug him back.
"Maybe you should get some rest too, you were up the entire night." His head rests on my shoulder, saving me from him noticing my blush. "Sleep with me."
I pull away, just to look at him. His eyes have got back their usual brightness, and his cheeks are reddish again. There is not a single trace of fever.
"I will, just because you ask." He smiles and kisses me again, and this time, it's different. This time I kiss him because that’s what I’ve wanted to do for years, without worrying that he will reject me. I don't do it to make a spell work, I kiss him because I can. And because he wants to kiss me too.
I lay next to him on his bed, wrapping my arms around his body. There’s not too much space, but it is an advantage when I feel his heart beating. With Simon in my arms, I could never sleep better.