It was just a normal day at the beach. Surely, on a Monday morning, not many people would be there. William Herondale just wanted to go float in the cool, clear water alone, relaxing in his own thoughts. It was a pretty hot day, so why not? He needed a day off, so this would be it.
He carried the sunscreen in his hand and a towel in the other, and his bare feet were burning in the hot sand. Will's eyes landed on a nice spot not too far from the water, but not close enough for the water to reach it. He laid down the towel and sat down, applying sunscreen.
Will's aggravating father was getting on his nerves again that morning, complaining how he should be dating girls and considering marriages and making babies and the like. Was something wrong with his father? Will was only eighteen. He was still young.
At least he was leaving on a business trip for two weeks, leaving Will alone. Thank God.
He lay down on the towel. There was no need to put on sunglasses. It was a cloudy day in Pacific Grove in Monterey area, in California. It was sort of a small place to be in, and his house was fairly close by. He liked the weather and he liked the rain and lightning and thunder. Ironically, though, he hated the smell of petrichor. Most people liked it, but he really didn't.
Everyone's different, after all.
Sighing, Will squeezed his eyes shut, until slowly, they relaxed, and he fell asleep.
When he woke up, grogginess overwhelmed him. He moaned, and rubbed his eyes tiredly before standing up. Big mistake. He felt a head rush and began blinking rapidly until his vision cleared up. He threw off his shirt. Yawning, he sauntered over to the water.
It probably wasn't the best idea to start swimming when he just woke up, but at the moment, Will didn't really care. He waded in the water until it got up to his waist. He started swimming around, looking underwater occasionally, and just simply enjoying himself.
Until he heard a scream.
It was a piercing scream, one that made him shiver and cringe at the mere sound of it. "Help!" he heard, and all grogginess went away, replaced with adrenaline. "HELP!"
Will, not knowing what to do, shouted, "Where are you?"
"I'm over here! By the rocks," the person shouted back.
Will felt his heart pounding in his chest, anxiety overtaking him for the poor person there. "Just hang on, I'll be right there!"
"Hurry!"
He followed the sound of the voice and began swimming towards it. The rocks, he thought, which rocks? There were plenty of them, after all. Frantically, he looked around, jumping up until he spotted a figure clutching the big rocks, water crashing onto the figure's back.
Will swam as fast as he could, the water splashing hard around him until he reached his destination. A girl with soaking wet brunette hair was there, shaking. Will floated right next to her, and gently grabbed her shoulders. She screamed and started thrashing.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, gripping firmly this time.
She looked around as if somebody would be there, listening. She shook her head. "I don't think I remember how to swim."
Not knowing how to comfort her, Will instructed her to grab onto him. Her big, gray, vulnerable eyes stared deeply into Will, as if she could see right through him. She did as he asked, and held tightly onto his arm. They swam farther away from the raging waters, into the calm. Will spotted his beach towel on the sand, and the water became shallower, until his feet were on the damp sand.
The girl didn't let go of him, even when she was on land. She was trembling, and Will asked her if she was cold. She mumbled a yes and he led her to the location of the towel. He grabbed the end of it, and shook of the sand, making sure there wasn't any left. Then he wrapped it around her. She held it tighter around her, and Will was genuinely concerned.
He put back on his shirt and he noticed her watching him. He really tried his hardest not to smirk at her or saying something flirtatious. Although with the state she was currently in, he restrained himself.
"So," he said. "What's your name?"
She opened her mouth to say it, but then quickly shut it, her eyebrows knitted together. "My… My name?"
Will nodded at her. "Yup. I'm William Herondale. Will is just fine, though."
"I don't remember."
He frowned. "Oh. Well, that's okay. We can go find your parents or something."
She blinked. "I don't remember my parents, either." She was suddenly frightened. "How come I don't remember my parents?" she asked him wildly.
He put a hand on her arm. "It's okay, it's fine." He was really new to comforting girls that didn't remember anything about themselves. "Do you remember anything? Like how you got there in the water?"
She shook her head.
Biting his lip, Will said after a few seconds of complete silence, "Okay. Well, I figure you've got no place to stay. You want to come temporarily live with me?" Will grinned at her.
"Um, I guess? I've got nowhere else to go."
"Alright, then. It is settled. I shall escort you to my humble home."
Will had just walked with her to his house, since in all actuality, it really wasn't that far. He grabbed the spare key hidden in the bush and unlocked the door, whistling. When they both entered, he told her, "I think I have something my mother used to wear that might fit you. We'll definitely go shopping for you later, of course."
"Shopping," she repeated.
"Yes, shopping. Don't tell me you don't remember what shopping is." He gave her a pointed look.
She nodded. "No, of course I do. You're just being…really kind."
Will stared at her. This was definitely new. He usually kept to himself, really. Sort of quiet. When he did speak to people, he was very sarcastic and held a dry humor. He did help people whenever they'd drop their books in the hallway or something like that. They wouldn't thank him, though. It wasn't like Will expected it anyway. But still, for this girl—this stranger calling him kind. It was a rewarding feeling.
His gaze fell on the floor, and then told her where his mother's room was and that there should be clothes somewhere in there. She nodded and walked across the hall and her footsteps quieted down to the point where Will heard silence.
He jumped onto the couch and covered his eyes with arm. Will then realized that he was going to have to eat soon, and that he had an extra mouth to feed. He shot up and went over to the kitchen, opening the cabinet door, looking for something to eat. Even though it was full, there was nothing.
He looked in the fridge instead, his eyes constantly moving. Then, he heard the girl shouting his name. Will ran over to what his mother's room was and spotted the girl in his mother's clothes, grinning madly. "Will, my necklace!"
He blinked. "Yes, what about it?"
"I sort of remember. My mother had my name carved into my clockwork angel pendant."
She undid the necklace, and took it off her neck and showed him. He read it, and it said, 'Theresa Gray.'
"Theresa Gray," he said aloud.
"Just Tessa," she told him immediately, as if it were a habit. It must've been considering her head shot up and stared at him with her eyes wide. "Will!" She was still smiling broadly.
"Alright then," Will grinned, "Tessa."
A/N: And that concludes the first chapter of a new story. I have honestly no idea where I'm going with this, just an idea I had this morning. Not that long for a first chapter but *shrugs* Not really sure if I like it. Leave your opinions on it in the reviews and I may or may not continue this. *evil grin*
This account is filled with Wessa fanfiction. Then a Wessa-fanfiction-account it shall be. Unless I do just like a few stories that suggest otherwise, but meh.
ANYWAY, about the whole 'living-in-California-specifically-Pacific-Grove'… yeah. Well, I used to go there every year when I was living in California and go this place called Fishwife. (It was a restaurant.) Yeah. They serve like the best clam chowder ever.
Title is based off a song by Florence & The Machine – Never Let Me Go. So here it is. This is very AU.
I'll eventually write some Wessa on this from the Victorian age…hopefully.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Infernal Devices or anything else mentioned in this story. I own nothing.