Baz:

The building was utterly devoid of any trace of Snow. Usually I'd just assume that the nightmare had run off into London for some sort of idiotic joyride, but since we were in the future, the idea of him pulling a disappearing act was a little more concerning. Snow had many skills, but the ability to mind his own business wasn't one of them.

As evidenced, quite obviously, by the current state of the flat.

In all honesty, I was ignoring the main issue; the reason that Snow ran off. He'd obviously been searching for something. No, whatever he'd been trying to find didn't matter. The real problem was whether he'd managed to happen upon any of the other things I'd been hiding from him. He shouldn't have. I was careful; I hid everything in places Snow either wouldn't fit, or wouldn't think to look.

Except…

Shit.

A quick look in the bedroom yielded the results I'd dreaded. The photo that I'd so stupidly kept, with every pixel portraying Snow and I as the sickeningly sweet couple I'd always hoped we'd be, was long gone.

You always think of fear as being quick, sharpening your senses, and giving you incentive to run as far as possible. This wasn't that type of fear. It was slow, and twice as painful, beginning from a heavy feeling at the base of my stomach, until I was on the floor, knees pulled to my chest. My hands were shaking, but I barely spared them a thought. My mind was busy asking me thousands of questions, none of them having an answer I wanted to admit.

Why did I have to be so fucking sentimental? Why couldn't I just leave this impossible future untouched and ignored? Why was I always so damned determined to play Icarus?

Maybe there was another spell in that book, back at Watford. One that would really let me go back and change my pre-written story to one of my own volition. I could take away these ill-fated feelings for good.

The worst part was, I wasn't even sure if I'd let myself cast the spell. My love for Snow, the very thing killing me, had saved me more times than I could ever even realise.

But now he knows that. He knows how much I love him, and how much I desperately tried to hide it.

He knows that he's the sun, and I'll never stop crashing into him.

I leave the bedroom (I preferred to call it the bedroom. Not ours. Never ours.)

There were two things I could do now. One, wallow in misery and dread in the apartment until the time runs out, Snow and I are taken back to our timeline, and he stabs me the second we arrive back in our room.

Second, I could try to find Snow, whatever whimsical part of London he'd managed to find, and pray that he didn't try to stab me in public.

I go with the second option, mostly because it seems to have less of a chance of resulting in my death. Face the problem head on, or so the saying goes (I've never wanted to cower under the covers more in my life.)

Maybe one brave act would cancel out all of the hiding I've been doing these years.

I put on a jacket, and leave the apartment for the first time, locking the door behind me.

Time to talk to Snow.

…..()….

Simon:

I don't really know why I ended up where I did. Guess I unwittingly followed the crowds of tourists. That at least hasn't changed in the future.

I've always thought the London Eye was a bit naff, really. You pay multiple times the money for half the fun of a normal fairground ride (not that I've ever been on one before). Queue for hours to stand around in a glass pod with people you don't know, the view hazy and distorted because of the smog that never stops hanging in the air of the city.

So I don't spend my dangerously low stock of money on a glorified lift. Instead, I sit on a ledge nearby, and watch it go round, people piling off and on at the bottom.

I've always been a master at not thinking about things. If there's a thought I don't want, I can just put it on the list with the others, and toss it into the pile at the back of my mind.

It's never really been that way with Baz. Whenever I try to put him on the list, he comes charging back mere moments later, with all the subtlety of a chimera. I guess I've just gotten used to always having him hanging around in my head. After a certain point, it stopped bothering me; I suppose I can't say the same for Penny and Agatha though, since they have to deal with the repercussions of Baz being in my mind all the time

Now that I was actively trying to kick Baz out of my head again, I was realising how at home he'd made himself there.

Across from the ledge that I was sitting on, a kid drops his ice cream on the floor, cone and all, and starts to cry. A woman tries to usher him away, to no avail. He's determined to cry every last tear he has over that one lost sweet.

The crowd who were originally watching the outburst turn away and go back to their converstaions.

The wheel keeps turning. Traffic keeps screeching. People keep chattering. The world doesn't stop turning just because you lose something that you never fully appreciated in the first place.

Baz.

Maybe I shouldn't have left so quickly after finding out the truth about our future. I wasn't really sure what to do now, after all. My wings were bunching uncomfortably against my coat, and I didn't know where to go for the night. There was still a few days left until the spell wore off, and we'd go back. Sitting in front of the London Eye the whole time probably wouldn't be a smart choice.

Sighing, I looked down at where the chain of the necklace was wrapped around my hands, and open the pendant again.
Pressed against one of the sides was a small picture. Me, asleep on the couch of our future apartment, game controller falling out of one hand, head leaned against a cushion. My other arm was wrapped loosely around Baz's torso, his head nuzzled into my lap, as he slept too. The sheer warmth and comfort of the image made my heart clench.
On the other side of the internal part of the pendant, was an inscription.

Simon Snow, I choose you.

I could tell that I'd been extra careful with the necklace. The silver, perfectly circular, surface of the locket was smooth, without a single scratch or dent. It was special to me. I could feel the love and affection that the locket held.

I swallowed, biting my lip.

This was the future I wanted. Not one where I'd have to face Baz on a battlefield, the long-awaited showdown that could only end with one of us stealing the life of the other.

I….loved Baz far too much for that.

If only he felt the same way. But he didn't. So that was probably that.

The end.

"Simon!"

Fuck.

I couldn't help but look up at the voice, jerking my head around wildly in all directions until my eyes fell on the source.

Baz stood about ten meters away, doubled over, and breathing heavily, hair swept by the wind. Why had he been running?

"Simon!" He gasped, standing up straight again, and walking until he was directly in front of me "Found you."

"How did you−"

"Instinct. You aren't as complex as you think you are, Snow. When you don't have anywhere to go, you always end up going to the place that feels the most familiar."

My face was flushing, I could tell, but I ignored it. Standing up myself, I tried to push past Baz "I…want to be on my own right now."

"Please?" He caught my wrist "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

I don't know why it took me so long to work out how I felt about the bastard. I've always been weak to him. Even now, there was only one thing I could say.

"…Okay."

"Great," Baz glanced around, and cursed under his breath when he noticed that people were staring at us. Swiftly, he pulled us both out of sight, tugging his wand out of his pocket. "Nothing to see here!"

"What are you doing?"

"Up, up, and away!"