Luke headed towards the Council, feeling as if the weight on his shoulders had gone. He was free from all those years of longing, wishing for things that would never happen. Before he'd have thought doing something like this would be painfully heart-wrenching.
He finally let Jocelyn go.
Feeling numb, he shoved his hands in his pockets and speed-walked to the Council, attempting to raise his head in a respectable way but couldn't. He felt as if a part of his heart was about to split into two, and a wave of anger washed over him. Why did he tell Jocelyn? She didn't need to know.
But I did. The false hope Clary filled him with had made him go blind all over again. He pictured her smiling and laughing, her green eyes sparkling like they used to, and then everything would be like it supposed to be. Yet it wasn't.
He remembered when they were little, and they'd hold hands while running. It used to make him feel as if he was flying away, away from the high Graymark expectations. Even then, he knew he couldn't be as skilful and ruthless as the others in his family were. He'd loved the endless days when he played games with cardboard swords with Jocelyn. He remembered her being enthusiastic about the idea of using sticks as steles, while he wasn't as excited but pretended to be anyway, just for her sake.
Secretly, he knew, he was always in love with her since the first day they met. When he first caught sight of her long bouncy curls, being hauled up by a happy and athletic-looking man went across his mind, and Luke almost laughed at how sweet she looked. Then he reminded himself that he had let her go, and his smile vanished.
He knew he should be frustrated. Angry, even. But he felt nothing – so he carried on walking.
After a minute of silence in his mind, he heard footsteps – quick and fast paced, behind him. Usually he'd tense up, bend his knees and get ready to pounce. But because of his overwhelming sense of numbness, he didn't care...
"Luke."
...but now he did. Her voice was soft, and she heard her let out a breath of relief. "Luke. Thank God you haven't –"
"Jocelyn." He turned, worry covering his face. She never said anything with this much relief – not to him, anyways. "Is everything okay?"
"No – I mean yes, everything's fine. It's just... I want you to come back to New York. You've got the bookstore, Clary, Simon, Maia, the pack –"
"I told you. I'm needed more here," he told her firmly, searching her face for any sign of worry. Hesitantly, he turned away, but a gentle hand went on his shoulder.
"Please. I... I need you."
"No, you don't," he snapped, turning to see her face, which was surprised at his sudden outburst, so he softened his voice. "It took me twenty years to realise that. For all this time I thought that you generally needed my support, but it really is just that you feel sorry for me. Sorry that you don't love me. Sorry that I love you. But you shouldn't, Jocelyn. You said you didn't love me, and that's the end of it."
Regretfully, he returned to heading towards the Council. He willed himself to picture Jocelyn never being there, but he still felt eyes looking at his back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"And you believed me?"
Almost immediately he opened his eyes and turned. She was still where she stood, her head raised, her hands fisted, and he could tell, even from the distance he stood away from her, that she was holding back tears.
Hope filled his heart – this type, he knew, wasn't out of wishing. Slowly, he walked towards her, curious. Curious of what she was going on about and a little annoyed at himself for not being strict enough.
And he knew it seemed weird, but the endless possibilities was all he thought of; innocent toddler redheads running around on a field, some with green eyes and some with blue; scenic artwork; smiles, laughing, and sweet little giggles –
He realised that he was so close to her that he could feel her rapid heartbeat drumming against his chest, but he didn't care. "So you... lied?" he said quietly, wiping her tears quickly.
"You're so gullible," she whispered, smirking teasingly.
Smirking.
She hadn't teased anyone in the last fifteen years.
"Sometimes I don't know what I can do without you," he said jokingly, his forehead against hers, grinning, while he played with her curls between his finger. She giggled between her teeth, looking down at his chest, and he tilted her chin with his finger and thumb. He couldn't bear not looking at those favourite pair of eyes for one minute – not now. Not when they were this close.
For what seemed like hours, he searched for any signs of distaste; while all she did was keep on smiling. He was unexplainably content to see her this happy – and even more so to know that he was the reason why.
"If it takes you this long," she sighed, and he felt her long slender arms ring round his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips.
And he'd well and truly never been so excited for his – no, their – future. She was finally his redhead, and that was all that mattered.