Carry on, Simon.

It's always fire with Baz. I can't believe he hasn't incinerated me yet. Or burned me at the stake.

Tall. Black hair swept back from his forehead. Lips curled up in a sneer... I know that face as well as my own.

And sometimes holes want to get bigger, but Baz was wrong—sometimes they just want to be filled.

Simon Snow is still going to die kissing me.
Just not today.

She looks over at his empty bed, and her sadness is so potent that in that moment, I'd do anything to get him back for her. (I'd do anything to bring him back.)