Dedication: to the times it feels all right & Florence + the Machine.
Disclaimer: I do not own the things you've seen before (generally with a copyright symbol). The italics in particular are verbatim from Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare. I do not own it, just the framework vignette around them.
Notes: Uh, don't take Clockwork Prince into account for this one – I plan on reading it tomorrow!
NotesB: First time I've done this fandom.
His fingers waver around her wrist for a second before they're gone.
At least, that's what she thinks, but she's not quite sure as he draws them away before she has the chance to look down.
Her eyebrows furrow as she curses him and her insides for practicing their somersaults.
It's one of those rare mostly-sunny days in London and the four of them are on the roof. Sophie stands on the other side of Jem, talking with the strange kind of delight that Tessa can't bring herself to speak with. He's a little closer than she remembers he had been the last time she'd glanced his way, his left elbow brushing her waist when he turns to look at the other brunette.
Nothing uncomfortable, especially in comparison to the pale shadow on her left.
After their last conversation on the roof, she had expected him to stand next to Jem, or Sophie, who was at the other end and the furthest from her.
The barren warlock.
His eyes are focused on a spot right above the sun and she is almost dazzled.
Almost.
She used to be the fool; now she's just blind.
As she looks down at the bustling streets, where little street urchins slip their hands into purses for apple red wallets, she wonders if that's why she's so… fascinated by Will. He hardly makes sense, his reasoning a matter of his own invention. This mystery unto a human angel-bred, he slips himself into her skin better than she wears it.
Frustrating.
Sometimes, she thinks how easy it would be to dive through him, take on his identity and wear him until he makes sense and she forgets himself.
She just doesn't know if she'd know how to find her way back.
"Tessa."
He never calls her Tess anymore, and perhaps it's because he doesn't want her demon taint gripping him.
She's hesitant to blame him.
Will's fingers beat a tattoo into her palm, not even sputtering when she faces him, a new delicate smile carefully patched together on her face. Jem's slim hand rests in her right, curling it around her like armor. She doesn't know what Will asked, but… refusing him has always been the most fun option.
"Yes, there is."
She's just too tired for it at the moment.
The way he looks at her, blue eyes that spear her like the sunlight through thin London clouds, makes her think he knows she just answered his question.
Just not the one he had just asked.
"Jem says you lie to make yourself look bad," she said. "And perhaps that is true, or perhaps he simply wishes to believe that about you. But there is no reason or excuse for cruelty like this."
For a moment he looked actually unnerved, as if she had truly startled him. The expression was gone in an instant, like the shifting shape of a cloud. "Then there is nothing more for me to say, is there?"
He still manages to own her.