WHAT. Jem checks in on Will, who is grappling with the aftermath of the actions of Mind Controlled!Will. WHERE. Library of Blackthorn Manor WHEN. Evening of April 22 WARNINGS. đ ART CREDIT.Here
Jem had first started training with Will at the young and tender age of twelve--literally, it was the first thing the two of them did together, after Jem had brushed aside the attempted jabs from the other boy regarding his then sickly appearance. He had then spent years working alongside his best friend, learning his strengths and weaknesses, his tells and preferences. As the other's parabatai, the cohesion between their fighting styles became even more pronounced; he didn't have to learn how Will worked, he just knew.
Events transpired from there, but even after more than a century apart, only months reunited, and their parabatai bond severed, Jem had felt them fall back into the rhythm that had once come as easily to him as breathing. Their joining of a defense group together, always together, only further solidified that sync and Jem couldn't have felt more relieved to have it back; he shouldn't have, wouldn't have back home, after all.
Still, despite their training and occasional teasing conversations about who would win in a fight between them (it was all dependent on circumstances, Jem insisted; where were they, what were the weapons, why were they fighting in the first place?), he hadn't actually expected to find out. But when he and Will had arrived with so many others to take down the potion dealer, that's exactly what happened when said potion dealer took control of Will and suddenly Jem had an entirely too familiar opponent.
Jem was relieved, in the end, to not have to find out who would have actually won. There was a disparity, with Jem attempting to subdue while Will's loss of control gave him no such limitations, and injuries had been exchanged on both sides that had called for medical attention and runes. But with the snake creature gone, Will's mind had been returned to him and that was that.
Of course, it wasn't really that.
Jem had given Will about an hour of time after they had returned to the manor and gotten tended to by their wife before he had gone to seek him out. It was imperative to check in on him, to see where his head was after all of that and offer any potentially needed assurances; it had been his priority to care for Will's mind and heart for a very long time (even if he had been gently nursing that shift in his heart in the prior months) and that was a habit he had no intention of breaking.
And so, armed with two cups of tea (black for Will, green for Jem) and a handful of biscuits he scrounged up in the kitchen, Jem shouldered open the door to the library, making an educated assumption as to where his friend might be.
Will was in a dark mood. It was to be expected. He had spent days being followed by blood-thirsty little beastsâeven though he had consumed a potion that was supposed to make him duck-proofâonly to have all his hard work be turned against him. To have Jem against him. To be against Jem, really. The whole situation brought back memories of a time before, when he had done everything he could to keep Jem, and Tessa, away from him. He was dangerous, he was cursed, he couldn't be trusted. He thought they were all past that.
But some monster of a person named Horace had broken down all that hard work in seconds. He wished he had been the one to finish him off, but Will had been too deep into a one-on-one battle with his parabatai that he couldn't undo. The compulsion in his veins had been all-consuming, so had the the self-loathing Will felt afterwards.
If he was holing himself up in the library in order to avoid a conversation he didn't think he was ready to have, well. That was not cowardly. He couldn't even look at himself, how could Jem?
He had not gotten far in any reading. Pulling out several books as options, Will was stating at the desk, staring at the stack, when Jem came in. Will didn't have to look up to know it was him either. They had been in each other's orbit for so long, that the knowledge of awareness was second nature, a sixth sense. He would know Jem anywhere, by any sound, by any name. And right now, he did not think he deserved to see Jem, given the circumstances.
The strong scent of black tea almost made him change his mind. Almost. "Leave it by the door," Will said, shuffling through the books, and flipping through the pages. He was pretending to be busy, engaged. It was a poor act on Will's part. "I will get it later."
"It will be cold later." Jem's response was immediate, said as he crossed the library to where Will was quite clearly trying to appear as though his focus was elsewhere. It was an act that Jem had witnessed before and one that he very well might witness again in the future, but one that he recognized. On some occasions, he may have allowed Will the space that he thought he needed and let him decide when he wanted to come to Jem, but not this time.
Instead, this time he strode across the floor until he was standing next to Will, then set the tea and biscuits down on what spare space there was on the desk. Jem paused, looking over the books to get an idea as to just what Will was trying to focus his attention on. He read the titles on spines, cocking his head to the side when a correlation didn't immediately spring to mind. That didn't shock him too much; though he didn't mind reading, he wasn't nearly as voracious as Will and Tessa were.
Turning his attention back to the tea, Jem gestured toward it and peered at Will. "I would be very put out if you didn't enjoy it while it was hot."
Not that Jem was never stubbornâhe could be equally bullheaded as Will was on his best daysâbut Will was hopeful that Jem wouldn't be today. Not when Will was trying to find the right words to say, the correct apology to unravel in his presence. Will was feeling shameful, knowing full well that Jem would likely forgive him for this terrible, frustrating accident, but Will didn't think he deserved forgiveness just yet. And when Will decided something, it tended to stick most annoyingly until forcibly ripped away.
"You act as if I have never had cold tea before. Do you know they sell it that way at the market down the street? Already cold, preferably. Perhaps I am a cold tea drinker now, it could be quite refreshing," Will said, moving away from Jem to another shelf in order to keep distance between them. It felt wrong, just as much as saying he wanted cold tea.
With his back turned, and still pointedly not looking at Jem, or else all his hard work would crumble instantly at the expression he knew was on his best friend's face, he plucked a book off the shelf in mild interest. Except for the fact it was a birding book, and he had arbitrarily flipped it open to the waterfowl chapter. He squeezed his eyes shut, before speaking.
"What are you doing here, Jem, besides making sure I have tea?"
Jem watched as Will recreated the space between them, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he did. He knew Will well enough to have expected that this be an easy conversation, partially due to the subject matter itself but also simply because it was complicated and Will was complicated, just as Jem himself could also be complicated. This was not new for Jem, nor was this something he would so easily back down or away from.
No, this was important. Will was important. Jem wasn't going anywhere.
The tea was forgotten, though, as Jem turned and kept his gaze fixed on his best friend's back, his face soft and understanding despite Will not being able to see it. "I'm here for you, Will," he said, his voice firm, despite its usual gentleness. He would leave if Will asked him to, if he truly felt that his presence here was doing more harm than good, but he didn't want to.
"I know the past days have been...trying." An understatement and Jem knew it, his brow furrowing. "I know that you have a weight upon you. I want to help alleviate it, if I can." If you'll let me.
This was worse, somehow. Jem being careful and gentle with him when he didn't necessarily deserve it. He wanted to throw something, but Will was much more controlled than that. He wasn't a reckless teenager anymore. He was a sort-of reckless young adult now, moderately composed.
"I know you are, Jem. You are always here for me, even when you shouldn't be," Will said, shoving the book back into the shelf, and taking a deep breath. He had to steel himself against the tide that was Jem, lest he be swallowed whole. But it was a risk he was willing to take; Will had always been weak for Jemâhe and Tessa were always going to be a vulnerable soft spot. He was so used to protecting that place, that sometimes he even tried to protect them from himself. And he couldn't do that now.
He spun on Jem, like ripping a bandage off an open wound, and stared him down. Jem looked fine, whole in the way that Will had come to accept as the new normal, but still. "The days have been no less trying for me than they have been for you," Will said, his expression hard and unreadable, because anything else would have him break. He knew it would.
"I know you are coming here to say it wasn't my fault, what happened, but it was and is. Allow me to wallow for a bit on your behalf, since I do not believe you will for yourself, if bringing me tea and biscuits is any indication."
"You can wallow," Jem said, though it was hardly the most important part of what was going on in the moment, at least in his mind. "I won't take that away from you." And it was a true admission. Jem would never want to persuade or ask Will to do anything less than feel his emotions; he just knew there was a difference between embracing them and being overwhelmed by them.
Though, there was also truth to what Will was saying: Jem didn't entirely believe that the situation was Will's fault.
"I won't argue with you that taking a potion without looking into it a bit deeper was a poor decision," he started, because that much he could concede. "But this place is filled with magic and people who peddle it in a trustworthy manner, so noâI can't entirely put the fault on you, even if I do believe I can understand to some degree why you might feel that way." He let his head cant to the side, then added, "I would also be wallowing with my violin, had our roles been reversed."
It was a thought that Jem didn't like to consider, but it was a thought to consider nevertheless. He knew, though, just by considering that the guilt would be paramount. He would also have a difficult time looking Will in the eye. And yet, "Would you believe it to be my fault, if that were the case?"
Will might have liked to hear Jem wallow with his violin. Not because he was cruel, or because he wanted Jem to be upset. But it was that Jem's way of working through things brought on beautiful creative wonders that others could enjoy. He was always giving and forgiving in his sadness. Will seemed to just become an ugly little rock of a human being, who pouted in a secluded library where no one was supposed to find him. He was also predictable, like some part of himself wanted to be found by Jem, wanting his presence to fill him with warmth where only cold seemed to remain.
He reached for the tea, because it would be awful cold, and took a sip. Made just the way he liked it, and he felt miserable knowing that, miserable listening to Jem's words. He wanted Jem to read him down, tell him it was his fault, but the more he listened to his best friend, the more he didn't think that would be the case. Though all that self-loathing couldn't hold him back from nearly spitting out his tea when Jem turned it around on him.
"No, of course not. I would never blame you. You would never do something so foolish, and if you did, it would be for a good reason, a noble reason. One that simply wasn't trying to get rid of ducks," Will said. The teacup was back down on the saucer again, forgotten. "You would have been able to fight through it, I do not care if you do not believe so, I know so. You have always been much stronger than I have."
His hand went to Jem's shoulder, gently, wary, as if Will would break him, despite just speaking about his strength. "I could have hurt you, more than I already have, and I could not bear it, Jem."
Fluidly, as though in immediate reaction to Will, Jem lifted his own arm, his hand coming to rest on Will's at his shoulder. He pressed his fingers gently into Will's, in turn pressing Will's into his shoulder, as though saying it's okay and you're all right and I won't break. It had only been a handful of months since they had been reunited here in Vallo, Jem neither the sick young man or the Silent Brother that Will had once known him to be. This moment went deeper than appearances or the past, but Jem felt that reminder could be helpful in this moment.
"You could have," Jem agreed after a silent moment, no longer than a few heartbeats, "but you didn't. Many things could have happened, but only one thing did and we are both here, whole and together." To punctuate the statement, Jem lifted his other arm, hand going to Will's own shoulder to almost complete the circuit.
"I will not try to change your mind beyond what I have already said," he continued, his voice quiet as his eyes, brown, a little wide in the moment as he tried to get his point across, and not at all silver. "But know that you already have my forgiveness, whenever you are ready for it here." At here, Jem's hand shifted, to press two fingers to Will's chest, above his heart.
Will had not expected Jem to touch him. Such a silly thing to be surprised by, he knew. But Will was a simple creature, with simple wants and needs when it came right down to it. Despite craving the attention, he often pushed off kindness and forgiveness because he had developed the habit of refusing it from others for so long. Even years past the truth of the demon and fighting for his life and the lives of others, Will found himself sometimes so adverse to the care he had been so freely given by the people he had often hurt the most.
Jem had borne it for so many years, he never knew why his parabatai kept coming back for him. And Will, the needy creature that he was, stepped closer into the touch. His hand on Jem's shoulder drifted to the side of his neck, like that would keep him there longer. Like Will could leech off more of all the best things from Jem to soothe his hurt and humbled heart.
"You are too kind to me, Jem Carstairs. When I don't deserve it, when I do. It never changes. How did I get so lucky to have a friend like you?" Will asked, but didn't want an answer. He knew why. He also knew that friend was not enough to encompass what Jem meant to him. Even if Will seemed to test that bond every day.
As Jem's hand moved to his heart, Will's went to his jaw. There was a sudden awareness that something was changing, and he knew Jem could feel it thumping harder in his chest. But Will would rather die than move now.
Jem could feel it too, the charge in the air, the so obvious tell of something changing and shifting. It had been gradual, ever since Jem first arrived in Vallo and was reunited with Tessa and Will both, but culminating in this moment of emotion. He thought of the moment at New Year's Eve and all of the other moments since, the ever present teasing and banter that seemed to ebb into flirtation and the steady and never-changing affection and care that had existed between the two of them for so many years.
He swallowed when at the touch to his neck, then Jem turned his face just enough to press his jawline to Will's palm. His own hand moved, gliding as he pressed his full palm and splayed fingers to Will's beating heart. Alive, it seemed to say, alive, they were both alive and were standing on the edge of a chance they would have never gotten in their old lives.
Maybe, Jem thought, it was time to see what that meant.
"You are no chore to love, Will Herondale." Jem's voice was low, though its continued gentle quiet was injected with something else, something borderline electric. They were already standing close, but that didn't stop him from edging closer yet. "Even when times were hard, you have always been my most steadfast friend." Again, friend. A word that was true, but not quite enough; the way Jem's gaze darted from Will's eyes to his mouth to his eyes once more seemed to illustrate exactly that.
"I only wish to be the same to you," he continued, "for as long as we are granted and perhaps even more, should I be allowed to be selfish."
Closeness with Jem had never been an issue for Will. It came with the territory of being parabatai. But now there was no real reason for outside of habit and instinctive feelings. He was always drawn to Jem like this, but he had never allowed himself to go further. Tessa had opened the door for him to explore this not that long ago, but Willâwhen no one was lookingâwas a terrible coward. He had looked at that open door and waited for it to close in his face.
But it never did. And on the brink of this confusing and complicated situation, Will had wanted to hold Jem in the way he held Tessa. He wanted to say he was sorry and have him feel it in the simple gesture of his touch. This was so much more though now that they were touching one another and still it was not enough.
"You can be selfish," Will said, his voice so quiet. And then quieter, "Be selfish." Whether that was for Jem, or an urging of himself, it didn't matter. Will was going to be selfish, and he leaned in to press his lips to Jem's. Tentative at first, if he wasn't sure he was actually doing it. But without waiting, without any other sense that this was okay, his kiss turned hungrier, feverish. If he was going to take this from Jem, sign his apologies to his best friend's lips, then he might as well mean it, lest he not get another chance.
Jem was expecting the kiss, of course. Anticipating it, even. It was something that he had thought about countless times in the last handful of months, for better or worse. It was hard not to once he had recognized the shift within his heart and mind, especially after the conversation with Tessa and absolutely given how much time he spent with Will.
And so, it felt only natural that when the kiss turned from tentative to heated that Jem simply followed suit, falling off that ledge quite easily. He had only kissed one other person during his yearsâand they were both married to herâbut this felt only natural, the next logical progression in a relationship as layered and ingrained as their own. It was only right to leave his one hand on Will's chest, while the other found out how soft Will's hair was in this context as Jem's fingers threaded into those at the nape of his neck. There wasn't any hesitation as his feelings edged into wants and needs and he managed to pull in even closer to Will.
One moment passed, then another, before finally Jem broke away, but didn't move. His eyes openedâwhen had they closed?âand he looked at Will's face, one he knew so well but felt a little different in this moment, in a very good way. He smiled, warm and pleased as his mouth tipped up in one corner.
Will's eyes had closed at some point too. He kept them closed when their kiss ended. Or was it kisses? Multiple endless kisses that Will was more than happy to keep indulging in. But he felt lightheaded, floaty, the kind of feeling that came from lucid dreaming, knowing that he was awake and sleeping simultaneously. Perhaps the fight took more out of him than he thought, and this whole scenario in the library was a vivid conjuration of his deepest desires: to have Jem and Tessa both, with nothing separating their love for one another.
He opened his eyes. Jem was still there, looking thoroughly kissed. Smiling. Will, who had been so wrecked by guilt moments before, found his sour mood lifted. Smoothed over. He smiled back in return. There was no awkwardness, nothing but the feeling of rightness. And the question: why had they not been doing this before?
"I think I would like to try that again, if you will allow me to," Will asked, but did not wait for an answer, and dragged Jem's lips to his. For all Jem's insistence and all Will's complaints, their tea would eventually grow cold.