#chiarastory

lmk if you want to be added or removed!

Thomas let out a small smile and moved closer to Alastair. He wrapped his arms around him, resting his hands on Alastair’s lean stomach. Alastair nuzzled his head into Thomas’ shoulder, placing his hands on top of Thomas’. “Better?” Thomas whispered. “Better,” Alastair whispered back.

“Better,” Alastair whispered back.

Thomas was drifting to sleep when Alastair shifted again to give him a peck on the nose. “I love you,” he whispered.

Thomas smiled and kissed his nose back. “I love you too, Esfandiyār. Now go to sleep.” Alastair turned back around and Thomas hugged him close and gradually both feel asleep.

——

They woke up some hours later to the sound of Alastair’s alarm. Thomas groaned softly and untangled an arm from the sheets to reach his hand over and turn it off. He then pulled the blanket back over them, pressing his face into Alastair’s neck. “Your alarm’s too early,” he mumbled.

Alastair let out a little yawn that made Thomas smile against his neck. “I have a class at nine,” Alastair said unenthusiastically.

“My first is at 10.” Thomas sat up in the bed, much to Alastair’s dismay, who exclaimed and reached for the blankets. Thomas laughed when Alastair took the blankets back. “You have to get up.”

Alastair’s voice was muffled by the blankets, which he had pulled over his head. “It’s warm here though.” He squawked at Thomas attempt to take the blanket.

“I am concerned about how you usually get up, considering you don’t have someone to wake you every morning.”

“Multiple alarms,” came Alastair’s reply from beneath the blanket. As if to prove his point an alarm went off on his phone, which Thomas turned off. “And if those don’t work then relying on Kamala to call me at 7:30 as she periodically does for no reason.” Thomas laughed, and Alastair poked his head out, a smile on his face. “If you want me to get up you’ll have to try harder than that.”

Thomas let out a fondly exasperated noise. “Am I supposed to carry you to your class?” Alastair shrugged. “Might work.”

But when Thomas went to pick Alastair up he stiffened his body to make it difficult for him. After five minutes of struggles for Thomas and laughter from Alastair Thomas managed to get Alastair off the bed and standing up. “Asshole,” Thomas said once they were standing. He passed Alastair his shirt. “Now go shower and change so we can go to breakfast and you can get to your class on time.” Alastair made a face at him but put on his shirt and went to get his shower things.

He stopped at the door when he realized Thomas was sitting on the bed. “You’re not coming to shower?”

“You’re the one with the early class,” Thomas said. He stretched out on the bed. “I’ll wait for you here.” Alastair made another face at him and closed the door to the dorm, heading for the shared showers down the hall.

A little while later Alastair pushed open the door to his room again, shivering and drying his hair. “I hate shared showers,” he announced happily.

Thomas, sitting on the now-fixed bed, lifted his eyes from the textbook he'd been skimming, and just barley stopped a noise from escaping his throat. Alastair had his back turned to him, searching for clothes in his closet, only wearing a towel around his waist, and Thomas blushed slightly at the sight of his lean dancer's body. "Um," he said, his voice coming out for the most part normal. "Most people just change in the shower areas, to avoid the awkward walking-through-halls-in-our-towels part of it, you know."

"True," Alastair allowed as he stepped behind his open closet door to change. Thomas looked away, even though Alastair was blocked by the door. "But one, I forgot my clothes, and two, I didn't think people would actually, you know, be up."

Thomas chuckled. "Of course not."

“What are you reading?” Alastair asked as he finished changing. His damp curls stuck to his head, water splashing onto Thomas as Alastair sat and leaned towards him. “Oh.” He adopted a monotonous voice: “Molecular Neuropharmacology: A Foundation for Clinical Neuroscience.”

Thomas let out a chuckle. “Is that what you’re going to go to med school for? To become a neuroscience?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Alastair took the book and started flipping through it. “I’d liked to. Or a psychiatrist. From what I understand from the class, my classmates understand the science of it all, but not much else.” He looked down at the book. “Like, all of them are so caught up in the biological part of it. And yes, disorders like PTSD and schizophrenia and bipolar disease do have with chemicals in the brain and all, but not just that. I mean, these people live with these disorders. You can’t just treat them like a bunch of neuron receptors giving off messed up signals. They're not there for you to study.” He closed the book.

“And I know that’s what therapists are for, to deal with the real life issues brought up by these disorders. But therapists don’t make the decisions about what meds are given and all; the pharmacists do that, and the get recommendations from the doctors. Who are like the kids in my classes, and don’t think further than the physical things happening in the patients brain. That’s why I’m thinking about studying it further; I want to understand the scientific part of it, and the social part. And I want others, especially other doctors, to understand that they're both equally important.” He looked up to meet Thomas’ gaze, who after a moment leaned forward and kissed him. Alastair smiled against his lips, bringing a hand up to curl into Thomas’ hair.

Thomas broke apart to gently kiss the soft spot behind Alastair’s ear. “I love you,” he said when he pulled back, looking into Alastair dark eyes. “I need to say that, without the jokes or you saying it first or anything. I love you so much.” Alastair smiled back at him, tucking a strand of Thomas’ hair behind his ear.

Eventually they made their way to the student café nearby, and ordered a pile of pancakes to share, along with coffee. As they ate Thomas looked at their cups of coffee, one a toffee brown and other slightly darker, more the color of earth.

Alastair noticed him looking at the cups. “Let me taste yours,” he said, reaching for the toffee colored cup. He pulled a face once he took a sip. “Too sweet.”

Thomas took the other cup and brought it to his mouth to taste. Then he set it down and made a face, mimicking Alastair. “Too bitter.”

“Coffee’s supposed to be bitter,” Alastair said defensively. Thomas just chuckled.

When they had finished eating Alastair asked, “What time are we going to meet to move all my stuff to Matthew’s?”

“When are you free?” Thomas asked.

“Well, I’ve got the autism class till 10, then from 10:30 to 12 I have another, and at three I have dance, until six, and from six to seven I have another class.”

“You’re schedule's pretty packed,” Thomas observed, “with both your majors to take course for.” Alastair nodded. “There’s not a lot of courses that overlap, but for dance it’s more like a co-op, so it doesn’t need a lot.”

“And work? You only work part-time, right?”

“Yup, only weekends and Thursdays, usually four to five hours a shift.”

“Christ, Alastair,” Thomas said. “Your going to murder yourself.”

Alastair smiled and licked syrup off his fork. “I’ll be fine. So meet at 7:30ish?”

“Yeah.” Thomas called for the bill, and stopped Alastair from taking out his wallet. “On me,” he said, and he took Alastair’s hand. “And try to find a way to lighten your load, okay?”

Alastair rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m fine. It’s just today I’m full.”

Thomas paid and they said goodbye and went their ways, Alastair to his class and Thomas to his dorm to change clothes and get ready for his class.

They day passed, and when Thomas finished his classes he headed to the library to study. He was so immersed in his work that he didn’t notice until he heard a throat being cleared that someone had joined his table.

“Took you long enough,” Alastair said when Thomas looked up.

Thomas pushed his laptop aside and closed his books. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Bumped into James. He told me you usually come here to study.” He tapped Thomas’ book. “What are you working on?”

“Essay for a class.”

“On the Normans?”

“And the ethical issues that come with sacking a whole city and enforcing a new culture on it.” Alastair snorted; Thomas smiled crookedly as he put his things in his messenger bag. “Yes, I know: obvious, basic and boring, but it’ll give me the marks.”

“I didn’t say it was boring,” Alastair said as they walked to James’ apartment. “I just fail to see how there would not be any ethical issues with that.”

“Precisely why I’m arguing affirmative.” They reached James’ apartment and Thomas texted James, who came down to the lobby a few minutes later, the key to Matthew’s place in hand.

“Here,” he said, handing Thomas the key. “And if you find a dead body in his bathtub, I am in no way connected to it.”

“Noted,” Thomas said drily, and Alastair snickered.

There was no body in the bathtub, or any place in Matthew’s flat. It was a nice place, wide open and spacious, and Matthew’s taste was sprinkled everywhere; in the neutral colored throw pillows that littered the couches, in the authentic looking paintings that hung on the wall of both Matthew’s bedroom and the guest bedroom, as well as the walls of the den, where a grand piano sat— Alastair eyed it while they put down the last box of his things. He looked towards Thomas, who chuckled and nodded; a second later the apartment was filled with melodious music.

Thomas carried the boxes with Alastair’s clothes into Matthew’s bedroom, which he put in the closet (Matthew more or less emptied out his whole room), and then Alastair’s textbooks and school things, which he put on top of Matthew’s desk. He left Alastair’s more personal things in the boxes in the living room for him to do with what he liked.

Having done that, Thomas went to the den and leaned on the side on the piano and watched Alastair play. “I am woefully behind,” he said when Alastair finished, sliding the lid back in place.

“You just need practice,” Alastair said. He smiled. “Like you do with your Persian.”

“I’ll have you know that just this week I spoke to Cordelia in Persian and she didn’t laugh at me like she did last time, which clearly shows I have improved.”

“Or she took pity on you,” Alastair said, a crooked smile on his face. Thomas blew a raspberry at him; Alastair laughed. “Very mature.”

“Come on,” Thomas said, dragging Alastair off the piano seat and into the kitchen. “It’s dinner time. Let’s see what food Matthew left.”

In text, Matthew had seemed to be graciously giving them an abundance of food but in reality besides a few cans of fruit, chip bags and cookie boxes there wasn’t much. “We can stock up tomorrow,” Thomas said. He was about to close the cupboard when Alastair spotted something in the far corner: he reached his hand in and took out a wallet, which he passed to Thomas.

About 500 dollars in total. Thomas slipped the money into his pocket. “You can’t just take his money,” Alastair protested.

“He said anything in his cupboards.”

“He said any food.”

Thomas shrugged, a grin appearing on his face. “Its fine, he owes me anyway.” Alastair shook his head, but he was smiling. “At least tell him.”

Thomas rolled his eyes but took out his phone. “You and your good heart,” he said while texting Matthew. “He won’t answer right now, it’s probably late in Paris—” He was cut off by a ding of a text, in which Matthew had written I would complain but I guess this is karma. “Never mind. Leave it to Matthew to be up in the dead of night.”

“He was up when you texted him yesterday,” Alastair observed.

“No doubt planning his diabolical schemes.”

Alastair chuckled. “Should we order, then?” He flipped through the restaurant pamphlets that had been left on the island. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” Thomas said.

“Well, we did Persian last time so this time Spanish?” He held up the pamphlet for a local Spanish restaurant and Thomas nodded. After they had picked out a few dishes and ordered they went to the living room to wait for the delivery.

“What about your things?” Alastair asked as he sorted through his boxes, taking out some books and pictures and other things. “Do you need to get your stuff from your dorm?”

“I’ll go by tomorrow and pick up some clothes and my school stuff,” Thomas said. “But if I bring everything they might end my residency there, so, you know. How long will we be staying here, anyways?”

“Until me and Kamala find a place,” Alastair said. “Is Matthew coming back soon?”

“No, not for at least a few months.” Thomas stretched back on the couch. “Take all the time you need.”

When the food arrived they both stood up to get it and then went back to the living room, where, after announcing that there was nothing good to watch, Alastair commenced to make up his own story.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Thomas cut in midway through. “You just said they were attacked by…?”

Alastair bit into a piece of queso frito—fried cheese. “Man eating kangaroos.”

“So then how did those kangaroos turn into spiders?"

“Thomas,” Alastair said. “It’s fiction. It doesn’t have to make sense. Besides, I needed a scarier animal.”

“And you think spiders are scarier than kangaroos?”

“You don’t?”

Thomas laughed. “Of course not!”

“Look at it this way: when you asked people what they are scared of, they are more likely to name a small bug than a kangaroo.”

“That’s only because bugs are more common,” Thomas objected.

“It doesn’t matter why, people are still more afraid of them,” Alastair countered. “Now, will you let me finish the story?”

Thomas laughed again. “Go ahead.” Alastair proceeded to continue his story while they finished the last of their meal.

Thomas looked at the clock. Nine o’clock. “What do you want to do now?” he asked.

“I have a project I need to work on. What?” he added at Thomas’ look.

“Do you need to work on it now?” Thomas asked. “It’s getting late.”

“What time do you go to bed?” Alastair asked.

“Later on, but—” Finding no reason to argue Thomas shook his head and smiled. “You win. I put your school things on top of the desk in Matthew’s room.”

“What are you going to do?” Alastair asked as he went to get his things. “The essay on the Normans.” Thomas replied while moving to get his laptop.

They worked in the living room in silence for an hour or so, until Thomas closed his laptop with a click. “I’m done,” he announced.

Alastair looked up from his laptop. “The essay?”

“No, I’m just done with school for now.” Alastair snickered as Thomas came to sit beside him. “What are you working on?

“A presentation.”

Thomas glanced at the screen. “Too many words I don’t know,” he decided, and stretched out on the couch to lay his head on Alastair’s lap, who shifted to make them more comfortable. “Can you work like this?” Thomas asked, looking up at Alastair.

Alastair looked down at Thomas, then at his laptop, then at Thomas again, and bit his lip. “No,” he said, but he closed his laptop and smiled. “But I think I'm done for now too.”

“You’re being too indecisive,” Alastair told Thomas a moment later as they clicked through channels. “The next one is the one we’re watching.” Alastair changed the channel; they settled in to watch an action movie that had just started. After a few minutes Thomas turned his head to look up at Alastair. “What’s your favourite animal?”

Alastair looked down at Thomas and placed a hand in his hair, pulling it back. “Hedgehog. Yours?”

“Not sure.” Alastair laughed. “See: too indecisive. Pick one.” After a moment Thomas said, “Owl.”

Alastair smiled. “Both woodland creatures.” They went back to watching the Tv, Alastair’s hand still wound in Thomas hair.

“You’re right,” Alastair said after a while. On the Tv men had started to shoot at each other, and it was obvious who would win. “This is boring.”

Thomas sent him a smug look, at which Alastair rolled his eyes. “What do you want to do then?” Thomas said.

Alastair shrugged, and then pulled on Thomas’ hair. “We could make out.”

Shifting so he was on his elbows, Thomas smiled crookedly at Alastair. “No sense of dignity in asked that?”

“How else do you suggest I ask my boyfriend if he wants—” He was cut off by Thomas, who grinned and leaned up to kiss him. “How about like that?”

Instead of answering Alastair gripped Thomas’ chin and tilted it up, deepening their kiss, and Thomas tangled his hands into Alastair’s curls, prompting Alastair to stretch out beside him on the couch.

Alastair’s lips moved down Thomas’ neck, his lips trailing kisses to his collarbone as Thomas’ hands found his own shirt and lifted it up over his head. Alastair made a strangled noise and then moved to straddle Thomas’ hips with his knees as Thomas moved his hands to Alastair and helped him take off his shirt. Thomas reached for Alastair's waist as Alastair leaned forward, placing his hands on Thomas' chest, and then pressing his lips to his.

On the Tv loud gunfire startled them both, so much that Alastair fell off the couch, bringing Thomas down with him. “Ouch,” Alastair said from where he was on the floor, and he sat up to lean his back against the couch.

Thomas let out a little chuckle. “Are you okay?” Alastair nodded. His hair was messy and his cheeks flushed. Thomas shuffled closer and bent his head to kiss Alastair's chest, where his heart was. He could feel it beating fast against his lips, and felt Alastair’s chest expand underneath him.

“Esfandiyār,” he murmured. “Maybe we could go to bed?” He kissed his chest again, and moved his hands to his waist, and heard Alastair’s quick intake of breath; when Thomas raised his head he saw that Alastair’s head was tipped back, resting on the couch, his eyes were half-closed, his eyelashes brushing across the tips of his flushed cheeks. A wave of desire shot through him.

Alastair opened his eyes and took Thomas face in his hands, pulling his face close for a deep kiss. “Yes. That is, if you want to—”

Thomas’ laugh came out low; he cleared his throat and pressed his nose to Alastair’s. “Any chance you will stop being so insufferably nice about our non-existent sex life?”

“I just don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t.” Thomas kissed his neck. “I want you.” Alastair shuddered again, his hands moving restlessly against Thomas. “Well, then?” he said. “What are you waiting for? Help me up.”

Thomas laughed and helped Alastair to his feet. If possible, Alastair looked even hotter standing up, with just his sweatpants on. He opened his mouth to say something but Thomas moved towards him, pressing his lips to him and backing him up to a wall. He gripped Alastair’s legs and slung them around his waist, so his hands were under Alastair’s thighs, holding him up. Alastair’s hands clung to his shoulders, he let out a little sound as Thomas pressed him further into the wall, pressing his body to him. He could feel Alastair against him, hard and wanting, and his head swam, wanting to be as close to Alastair as possible.

“T—Thomas,” Alastair said when he got the chance. “Bed.”

Thomas nodded, and still kissing Alastair, walked them to Matthew’s room.

——

lmk if you want to be added or removed!

So when Tessa and Will burst through the doors of the Institute all sodden and clammy, Jem thought nothing of it, but raced to meet them, seeing at once something was wrong. Will was supporting Tessa against him, and Tessa had a pained look on her face.

“What happened?” Jem asked as he hurried to take Tessa’s other side. She tired to smile at him, but didn’t quite master it under her pain. Jem saw her hair was plastered to the side on her face, but when he realized it was drenched with blood and not water he drew in a sharp breath.

“We were attack.” Will spoke quickly, urging them along the halls and to the infirmary. “Near Victoria Road. Tessa got hit by a Halphas' talons, in the head.” His words were too quick for Jem to catch any underlining emotions in them, and a glance at Will showed his face to be carefully concealed.

Tessa groaned softly, and Will let go of her and gave her to Jem. “Carry her to a bed, I’ll get the medicines.” He ran off without another word.

Tessa was starting to lose consciousness, so Jem picked her up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her head lolling against his shoulder. Jem walked quickly, his heart beating fast; Halphas poison wasn’t particularly dangerous, provided you got tended quickly, but their talons were razor sharp, and without the benefit of runes they would have to work fast to produce a medicine that would work on Tessa.

He went through the infirmary doors, which Will had left open, and walked directly to the cots, placing Tessa down on an empty bed. Will was at the tables, and a moment later Sophie came in, holding bandages in her hands. She placed them down beside Will and helped him gather ingredients for a pain-killing potion.

Tessa stirred on the bed, turning her head back and forth, a pained expression on her face. Jem sat down besides her, and stroked her hair away from her face, careful not to touch her wounds. “Tessa,” he murmured.

Will came towards them, a dark blue liquid in his trembling hands. Without looking at him he gave it to Jem, who placed a hand under Tessa’ head and helped her drink. She lay back on the bed afterwards, and sleep slowly lulled over her.

Sophie cleared her throat. She’d come up behind them, a bundle of white in her hand. “Charlotte’s called the Silent Brothers, they’ll be here in a moment. But I need to change Tessa, she’ll get a cold in her drenched clothes.” Jem stood up and he and Will walked to the other end of the room, while Sophie drew a curtain around Tessa’s bed and put in her a loose nightgown.

“Will,” Jem murmured on the other end of the room. “Are you alright? Do you need runes?”

Will looked up at him, a dazed expression on his face. “I’m alright. Tessa got the worst of it.”

“What happened?”

“She…” Jem glanced down to see Will’s hands were white and taunt, gripping the table in front of him. “There was three. I got two away from her, but the third wouldn’t follow, it went after her—”His voice broke, and suddenly he walked away from Jem, out of the room.

Jem was about to comfort go Will, tell him it wasn’t his fault, when a Silent Brother entered the room. Jem didn’t recognize him, but he moved away to lead him to Tessa, who Sophie had now finished changing. She was still in the bed, the blood on her head startling against the white sheets. Jem watched to reach out to her, but he held himself back.

What type of poison? the Silent Brother asked as he moved to touch Tessa’ head. Tessa stirred but didn’t wake.

“Halphas,” said Jem. “Will she be alright?”

We will see. The Silent Brother went to work, calling Sophie to bring bandages and other ingredients. Jem stepped away, letting him do his work. He closed the infirmary doors behind him.

Will was standing outside the door, turning his stele in his hand. He didn’t look up when Jem came to stand beside him, but asked, “Will she be alright?”

“The Silent Brother is with her,” Jem said. “He will be able to help her.”

Will took a shuddering breath. “If Tessa is permanently hurt, it will be because of me.”

“It is not your fault,” Jem said. Will just turned away.

Some time later, Jem wasn’t sure how long, Sophie poked her head out the door, clearly not surprised that they were both waiting there. “She’ll be fine,” she said, and Jem let out a breath of relief, and saw Will relax slightly. “Brother Shadrach got the poison out of her system, and she’s still asleep. You can come in.”

“Thank you, Sophie.” Jem walked pass her and into the infirmary. He stopped at the door for a moment, looking back at Will, who hadn’t moved. “Will?” he said. “Will you come with me?” After a moment’s hesitation Will nodded, and followed Jem inside.

Brother Shadrach walked towards Jem, his face, as costumed to the Brothers, betraying no emotion. Ms. Gray will have a concussion. She should be confined in bed for the next few days.

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere,” Jem said. The Brother passed him, and once he was gone Sophie left too, closing the door with a click.

Jem walked over to Tessa’s bed and crouched down beside her. Her head had been bandaged, and the bloody sheets changed. Her brow was furrowed in her sleep, as if she were puzzled by her dreams. Jem smiled, despite herself, and clasped Tessa’s hand in his.

“Tessa,” he whispered. “They say people can hear you in your sleep. I don’t know if that’s true. But I want you to know I love you. I love you, Tessa.”

Behind him Jem heard a choked noised, and he turned around to see Will standing a little away, staring out a window. From his side profile he could see Will's jaw clenched, but from the rest of him Jem would have guessed he was in pain. He sighed; he loved Will, but sometimes even he couldn’t figure him out.

“Jem?” Jem turned back to Tessa to find her looking at him through drowsy eyes. “Where am I?”

“The infirmary.” Jem squeezed her hand; after a moment, Tessa squeezed back. “You got a nasty hit on the head. Brother Shadrach fixed you up.”

“Oh…” Suddenly, Tessa tried to sit up, and clutched her head. “Is Will okay?” she asked. A note of panic had entered her voice. “He was with me—”

“I’m here.” Will appeared beside Jem. Tessa relaxed visibly, and Jem helped her lie back down. “Will was fighting the demons,” Tessa told Jem. “But he hadn’t seen the third, and it was coming up behind him, so I threw my book—”

“You threw your book?” Jem could hear the amusement in his own words, and a quick glance up at Will showed his lips curved up in a smile as well.

Tessa laughed shakily. “It was the only thing I had. I threw it and it went after me instead—”

“You should have just warned Will, Tess,” Jem said gently. “He’s trained, and he was armed. You weren’t. You could have been hurt a lot worse.”

“I know.” Tessa’s voice sounded small. She looked back and forth from Will to Jem with big gray eyes. “But it was going after him, and I didn’t want him to be hurt—”

“My knight in shining armor,” Will joked, but Jem heard a strange note in his voice. Tessa seemed to hear it too, and abruptly Will moved away from the bed, heading to the door.

“Will!” Tessa called. She tried to sit up again, but fell back on the sheets. “Will, don’t go.”

Will stopped at the door. He had a small smile on his face, any of the strangeness gone from his features. “I will leave you with Jem,” he said.

Jem wanted to stay with Tessa, but he wanted to go after Will too, to find out what was bothering him. He looked back at Tessa. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

Tessa looked from Will to Jem again. “I can’t… I don’t want to be left alone.” Jem heard what she didn’t say: I don’t want to be left by either of you. I want both of you to stay. He looked back at Will, and searched his face, trying to find out what he was thinking. Stay, Will, he thought silently. Stay.

“Alright.” Will came slowly to sit on the bed next to Tessa’s and Jem sat on the chair beside her. Tessa relaxed again, laying back in the bed. None of them spoke for a while, letting the silence fill the space between them.

At last, Jem asked: “What book was it?” Will looked up at him, and then his mouth quirked up in an involuntary smile.

“The Count of Monte Cristo,” Tessa said, a smile on her lips. She had closed her eyes, slowly going back to sleep.

“Hit the demons with plots of revenge and betrayal,” Will said, still smiling. “I approve.”

“You forgot love,” Tessa murmured. “Revenge, betrayal and love.”

“I don’t quite see how its loving to hit demons with books,” Jem said. Will snickered. “But I approve too, of course.”

Tessa smiled. The door of the infirmary opened, Sophie peeking through it. “Jem?” she said. “Charlotte would like to see you in her office.”

Will and Tessa looked at Jem with concern, Will already half out of his seat. “It is fine,” Jem said, standing up. “I was helping Charlotte before you two came in. I’ll be back in a little.” He left before either Tessa or Will could object.

--

Will looked at Tessa warily, who had closed her eyes again once Jem had left. He had been okay with Jem there, but without him he felt confused and open. Without Jem there he wanted to reach out to Tessa, to touch her in ways he shouldn’t, and he turned away from her, afraid of his emotions and of himself.

“Will?” Tessa had not yet fallen asleep. She was looking at him, puzzled. “Are you alright?”

Oh, Tessa. Will wasn’t alright. He could never be alright, not with Tessa engaged to Jem. He was honestly happy for them, but a part of him, a part he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tired, was jealous. Jealous of Jem, who was able to openly love Tessa. Jealous of Tessa, who could love whom she wanted to without having to think of a parabatai she might hurt. But it wasn’t even true jealously; it was more a feeling, a sum of feeling that made Will’s chest hurt whenever he was alone with Tessa.

“I am sorry you got hurt,” Will said.

“It is not your fault.” Will heard Jem’s echo in her words. How many people would tell him that, when everything, from the way he treated others, to the way he treated himself, to the way he loved, so clearly was?

“That is a kind thing to say.” This was Will’s fault too, lashing at Tessa out of his grief and pain that he couldn’t name. “But it is not true.” He stood up before Tessa could object, leaving the room with his sodden heart.

But then he thought of Jem. Jem had wanted him to stay with Tessa, even though he hadn’t said it aloud. Will just knew, the way he knew Jem. And he didn’t want to upset him. Besides, the two would be married soon. If he couldn’t even sit in a room with Tessa than he’d never be able to attend their wedding, and he couldn’t do that to either of them, especially Jem. He’d take this as a test, to see if he could do it, could master his feelings while others lived freely.

But when he walked into the room and saw Tessa, he knew it would be hard. Maybe it wouldn’t have been easier to have never found out the truth of his curse, Will though desperately. Easier to stop other’s love and know its for a good reason than to be able to love openly, only to be repressed by something as mundane as unrequited feelings.

“I thought you had left,” Tessa said when Will came to stand at the foot of her bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow. “Will, I am sorry if I have offended you in any way. I didn’t not mean to. But I don’t want to see you blame yourself, either.”

“I am sorry too,” Will said. “I can’t help blame myself. No one can, when it’s someone they—” He broke off abruptly, feeling a burn spread across his face. He definitely needed practice.

Tessa hadn’t reacted. She must have pitied him, Will thought bitterly, the boy who was in love with her and whom she didn’t love back. But then, a moment later, she said, “Will… can you stay until I fall asleep?”

Will drew in his breath. Why would Tessa ask that, if she didn’t care for him? Maybe not the way he wanted her too, but she must at least care about him, to ask that. Maybe he could make that be enough. To have a piece of Tessa’ heart, even if it was a small piece.

Will came to sit beside her, in the chair Jem had sat on. He looked down at his hands, not quite sure what to do. Then he thought of the one thing he could do, the one thing that would not cost him too much. “Would you like me to read to you?”

Tessa’s lips quirked. “I would like that.”

Will left the room, and a moment later returned with a book in his hand. “I thought, because you lost your book…” He held up the Institute's library copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.

Tessa smiled. “That works. You can start anywhere.”

Will picked a place at random and sat down and started reading, while Tessa closed her eyes again.

“Maximilien was a happy man…”

Tessa’s breath evened out slowly, and she slept as Will read on. She had probably not been listening much at all, but Will had had to keep his voice leveled as he read of Maximilien and Valentine’s happiness of finally figuring a way to overcome the obstacle that kept them from marriage. He wished his problems were as easy as theirs', and was glad when he could set down the book.

Quietly, so Tessa wouldn’t wake, Will slipped out of the infirmary, heading to his own room.

--

When Jem returned to the infirmary Will was gone, and Tessa was asleep. He went to her, placed a gentle kiss on her head, and was about to leave when Tessa murmured his name.

“Jem?” she said. “What time is it?”

“It’s late, Tess.” The moon had risen while he had been with Charlotte, and it’s light shone through the infirmary's windows.

“Did Will leave?” Tessa asked, turning over to face Jem.

“Yes,” Jem said. “You should get rest, Tessa. Go back to sleep.”

Tessa was quiet for a moment. Then she looked up at Jem. “I think Will is mad at me.”

“Tessa.” Jem ran his fingers through her hair, careful not to touch her bandages. “He is upset, but not at you. I will speak to him. It will be alright, Tess. Go to sleep.”

Jem placed another kiss on her head, and then stood up to leave.

“Jem,” Tessa said. Jem turned around. Tessa’ face was illuminated by the moonlight, showing her earnest features. “Thank you. For being here for me.”

Jem raised his eyebrows, and came to take Tessa’s hand. “It’s been difficult, adapting to Shadowhunter life,” Tessa said. “I mean, Charlotte’s wonderful, and so is Sophie, and Will can be, when he wants to. But sometimes I still feel like an outsider, even though I’ve lived with you all for a while now. The way things are done here, it’s just so different from what I’m use to, and I’m sure no one tries to make me feel unwelcomed, but…” She looked up into Jem’s eyes.

“Tessa.” Jem squeezed her hands. “You don’t have to feel like an outsider. Everyone wants you to stay here. You’re a part of us.” He had been about to say We'll always be here for you, I'll always be for you, but the felt like too much of a cruel irony that he couldn't get the words past his lips.

“I know,” Tessa said. “But you're the only person I don’t feel like an outsider with, at all. Nothing you do makes me feel that I don’t belong. I forget I came from somewhere else, that I am something else, when we’re together.” Tessa pulled Jem forward, and met his lips with hers. Jem stroked her hair while he kissed her.

When Tessa pulled back she murmured, “Wǒ ài nǐ, James Carstairs.” I love you, James Carstairs.

Jem smiled and gave her one last kiss on her forehead. “Wǒ ài nǐ, Tessa Gray.” Tessa smiled softly and Jem covered her with the blanket, and then left the infirmary.

--

Jem headed to Will’s room. The door was unlocked, so he pushed it open and entered.

Will was sitting on his bed, half dressed from the waist down. He held his shirt in front of him. It was grimy with sweat and dirt. After a moment he threw it to the side and lifted his head to look at Jem. “Don’t you knock anymore?”

“Must I knock?” Jem closed the door behind him and came to sit in the chair beside Will’s bed.

Will’s lips quirked up. “No,” Will said. “You do not. But,” he added. “If one of these days you enter here and I am stark naked, don’t say I didn't warn you.”

Jem rolled his eyes playfully. “Noted.”

They were quite for a moment, and then Will reached over to open his bedroom window, letting in the cool night air into the room. His hair ruffled as he sat back in his bed. “How is Tessa?” he asked neutrally.

“Well. Sleeping.” Jem picked up a tie that was hanging on the chair and put it on the nightstand. “Will…”

Will turned his head away, pretending to busy himself with his things. Jem sighed. “Will,” he said. “There is something you are not telling me.”

“Why would you suggest that?” Will hadn’t turned back to him, but Jem could see the tension outlined in his shoulders. “There is nothing.”

“Tessa thinks you are mad at her.”

At that Will turned back. “I am not.” The honestly on his face made Jem believe him, as well as that other sense he had about Will, that knew when he was lying and when he was telling the truth.

“Then you are mad at yourself,” Jem said.

Will ran a hand through his hair. “Tessa should not have gotten hurt.” He voice shook, and he cleared his throat, and looked at Jem. “I failed.”

“Will,” said Jem gently. “It was a demon attack. We get injured all the time.”

“Tessa is not a Shadowhunter.”

“She has been training,” Jem said. He knew he had to say this right. What he would say would depend how much Will would beat himself up. “And it was three demons against you two. Tessa is strong, Will, and she got the demon away from you—”

“She’s not a Shadowhunter! I should have been able to protect her!” Will seemed to explode with anger, and Jem flinched back involuntarily. Will was struggling to control his anger, his fist clenched at his side. He turned his wild blue eyes to Jem. “I am a Shadowhunter, I should have been able to protect her, as your parabatai I shouldn’t have let her get hurt—”

“You shouldn’t have had to.” Jem didn’t know where his own anger came from, from Will’s own outburst or from somewhere else, where it had always been but he had covered up for so long. “You think you’re the only one who feels useless? What about me?” He saw the surprise on Will’s face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Jem didn’t let him. “What about the fact that I had to rely on you, that I didn’t even get a choice to watch over Tessa because I was too sick, because I’m bloody dying—”

Jem stopped when he saw Will’s stricken face. His pupils had blown up, limiting the amount of blue in his eyes. “Jem,” Will whispered. “Jem.”

He was aware of his own hard breathing. Jem forced himself to calm down. “I just… I should not have to rely on you. Not all the time.”

“You don’t, Jem.” Will did not look angry anymore. He moved towards Jem, sitting in a patch of moonlight. His hair caught on the light, sparkling with starlight. “You’re my parabatai, Jem. I rely on you. I… I wouldn’t be functionable without you. You’re the reason I want to wake up everyday, James Carstairs.” He looked at Jem seriously, his eyes a light blue-purple in the moonlight. “You’ve been the reason since I met you.”

Will. Jem felt the fight drain out of him. He rarely fought with Will, he could count the times on one hand, and he hated it anyways. He didn’t understand how some people would always bicker with the ones they love. That wasn’t love to him.

“You’re hurt.” It was true. Jem couldn’t have seen it before, but in the moonlight he saw the thin line of red circling halfway around Will’s chest. Will looked down at himself surprised, as he hadn’t notice.

“It must have just grazed me, I didn’t feel any pain,” Will said as Jem stood up and walked to the bed, his stele in hand. He held Will’s shoulder with one hand as he drew an iratze, heard Will’s small intake of breath, and eased the pressure of his stele a little.

When he drew back his hand Will caught his wrist, gripping his long fingers around it. He looked at Jem seriously. “I never meant to make you feel useless. You’re not useless. You aren’t.”

Jem let out a small smile. “I am sorry I lashed out. It’s difficult sometimes…” He let his sentence drift off. “But less difficult than it would be without you as my parabatai. Less difficult than it would be without you at all, in fact.”

Will’s lips curved up, a ghost of a smile. He released Jem and sat back in his bed, watching Jem with a leveled expression. At last he said, “Would you mind to stay? I’d feel better if you didn’t leave.”

In truth, Jem didn’t want to leave, not yet, not ever. He nodded and headed for the sofa beside Will’s bed, but Will put on a hand on him, stopping him. “You can stay in the bed,” he said, watching Jem with the same expression as before, seeing how he would react. “It is not the first time we have slept side by side.”

There had been other times, but those were out in Hyde Park, dozing on the grass, or in times before Jem’s illness had restricted distant travelling and they’d stayed in one-bedroomed taverns during missions, fighting over who’d have to sleep on the floor, until eventually agreeing that sharing a bed was better than one having no bed at all. But this was different, Will inviting him, despite Jem being perfectly fine on the couch, and there being a million other beds in the Institute. And still, it didn’t feel novel to Jem, it felt like he’d done it a thousand times before. It was just Will. So he took off his shoes and jacket and climbed under the sheet to sit beside Will, their shoulders jostling against each other’s, Will’s bare and Jem’s covered by his long-sleeved shirt.

Will shifted so he was lying down beside Jem, and his breath evened out immediately, as if just Jem’s presence was enough to calm him, to make him feel safe enough to let down his defenses. Jem looked down at Will, his black curls creating a hallow around his peaceful face. He looked different in sleep, less mocking, less serious, more like a child. Jem crept his hand over to smooth Will’s hair back from his face, and Will shifted and looked up at him with dark blue eyes. “Goodnight,” he said. And then: “If you take up all the space I shall have to push you onto the floor, for practical reasons you understand, not out of hostility or anything.”

Jem chuckled, and moved to lie down beside Will. “Goodnight, William.” He saw Will close his eyes, a small smile on his face, and then Jem closed his own eyes and slowly they fell to sleep.

They would wake up tomorrow, neither of them off the bed, but Will’s arm slung over Jem’s chest and Jem’s head close to Will’s, silver hair mixing with black, both of them having had the best sleep they’d had in a while.

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