Chapter 61

Simon

I don't want him to die. That's the first thought I have, not of me not dying, but saving Baz.

I'll die anyway, so what's the point? Why fight the inevitable?

But Baz is permanent. Every term, Watford has Penny, scones, and Baz. His bottles in the bathroom, his sneer from across the room, his perfectly pressed clothes in the closet. His eyes, meeting mine in a glare. His grey eyes, always watching.

But now they're broken, tearing up in the smoke. They match the ashes in the air. They're dying. Wait, they're dead. But are they? Is he?

Well, it won't matter much longer. He'll just be smoke and ash himself.

I struggle to catch his eye, to get him to look at me, damn it, look at me! I take his face in my hands and I meet his eyes. They seem to be begging me to end him. I can't end him.

But aren't I supposed to? He's the villain, I'm the hero. He's a vampire, I'm the chosen one. He's broken, and so am I. He's in danger, and I'm the hero…

I can't think of how to save him. How do you give the will to live? How do you force someone who's given up to try harder?

I don't know. I can't think of how to fix this. Penny would know what to say. Agatha would be able to convince him with a look. I'm not enough to help. I just jump in without thinking.

Well, not thinking is good. I can do that.

So I don't.

I meet his eyes,

look down,

and lean in.