A/N: This one-shot/stream of consciousness wouldn't stop bugging me! I'm working on the outline for this fic I'm working on (yes, I outline my fanfictions!) and this just was just begging to be written. So I did! The other fic I'm working on is in Cecily's POV (it's a different one from the absurd TMI/TID crossover based on the notesfrom tumblrs), let me know if you'd like to read that as well! I greatly appreciate comments and the like. Thank you!
Also… this might not be a one shot. Maybe a two-shot. We'll see. Also, this was not proofread. I apologize for any mistakes in spelling and grammar.
Disclaimer: I wish I created Will Herondale, some of the dialogue, and everything about the Shadowhunter world but that honour and curse belongs to Cassie Clare.
Finally. Finally. Finally.
That was the one word that coursed through William Herondale's mind as the carriage lurched on to the Institute. The rain was pouring from the outside and all he could think about how the clouds looked lovely for they were the exact same shade as her eyes.
He rested his arm on the window sill, his finger in between his lips to keep himself from laughing. Even when he closed his eyes, no matter how brief, all he could see was her face.
Tessa. Tessa. Tessa.
They reached the Institute and rain-soaked Cyril opened the doors for them, friendly and helpful as he always was. Will had no time to appreciate his gestures at the moment. He had no time for anything else but her. He had waited too long and he will wait no more. With one last look to the Tessa-coloured sky, he took her arm in his and led her to the Institute.
"Come along," he said.
She looked back to Charlotte, as she always did. It was something he had always admired about her, much like everything else about her. She would always look behind her shoulder to see if he was still there, she would inquire to someone else's whereabouts when they were not present at the table, she would always see that no one gets left behind.
"We out to wait for them, oughtn't we-" No. No more waiting.
He shook his head, pleading with her to come with him into the castle. He was bubbling with his news, tasting at all the things they should – could – be. His heart was pounding, the air in his lungs were cold and hot, as unpredictable as London weather.
"Charlotte will be blathering at him for ages about what room he wants to stay in, and how grateful she is for his help, and all I want" he said rather quickly.
Is to tell you and show you that I love you, I love you, I love you.
"Is to talk to you," he added.
He looked at her with those eyes of hers and it was all he could do not to bend down on one knee for her. No. She deserved more than that. She deserved a proposal worth reading about, a confession worthy of being written poetry about. Scholars would take note of his love for her and how he told her because it is what she deserved. She wasn't a heroine – she was an entire novel in herself, immortalized in ink and paper.
He turned away and mounted the stairs. They couldn't get to the drawing room quickly enough.
"I can't wait to tell Jem about our meeting," he said, his words replacing the seconds that he wasn't telling her of his curse and of his love. A distraction of sorts; for if he had not, he would have professed at where he stood and there was no precedent, no foreshadowing, not what she deserved. "He'll never believe that scene – for Gideon to turn on his father like that! It's one thing to tell secrets to Sophie, another to renounce your whole allegiance to your family. Yet he cast away his family ring."
"It is as you said," she said. They were at the corridor, his hand never leaving her arm, two thin layers of cloth separating their skin. "Gideon's in love with Sophie. People will do anything for love."
He could have cried. She would understand. She would understand everything that he had done. She would know that every time he hurt her with his words, he was showing her that he loved her, protecting her in the only way he knew how, even if he wanted her, needed her like ink needed paper to become the words they both loved. She would understand everything. Of course, she would. Then would – could – love him. Surely if you loved someone enough, they would love you back the same way.
"Amazing, isn't it?" he said, smiling at her.
He opened the door to the drawing room, the firelight illuminating the room, the curtains drawn back but the soft pitter-patter of rain outside still resonated throughout the room. Not for Will – all he could hear was the beating of his own erratic heart. But all that could have been silent for all he needed to know that he was alive was the steady breathing from her lips.
No more waiting, Tessa. Finally.
"Will, why are you locking-"
Then she was in his arms. He could feel the soft dampness of her hair, the very scent of her took him in. If he held her for any longer, he would not have been able to compose himself. He could have this. This was all real. He pressed himself against her, the wall holding both of them up, and then his lips met hers. His hands were revelling in the softness of her hair, the warmth of her so close to him like he had always dreamed of. She tasted like rain.
"Love me, love me, love me."
He spoke to her in kisses, a word never leaving his lips. There was no word for this, for telling her just how much he loved her, how much he wished he could taste the rain in her skin and feel the sunshine in her heart.
"Will," she whispered before she kissed him back. She made no move away from him, her lips finally dancing with his own. Her hands travelling to the back of his neck, holding him close to her. His hands made their way to the small of her back, almost carrying her.
If it were not for human necessities, he would have preferred just kissing her there for the rest of his life. They pulled away for air but still holding each other close - a gravitational pull that drew them together, two heavenly bodies finally aligned.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, his forehead on hers. Her eyes were wide, sparkling like constellations. He set her down and cupped her face with his hands while she still held on to him with wide eyes and an open mouth.
"Why?" she asked.
"For everything. For all the days I didn't tell you how beautiful you are, for even thinking about leaving you when we thought Mortmain was somewhere else, for ever insinuating that you didn't matter to me – you're the only thing that does," he whispered. He kissed her forehead and then looked back into her eyes, pulled by them even. "For every day that went by without me telling you how much I loved you. How much I love you."
"What?" she asked, her voice so small that he barely heard her.
"I love you, Tessa."
"But I thought-"
"No."His voice was firm. He knew what she thought. He made her think that way. She had to hate him for her to be safe, for her to still live; for there was no way he could still live if she didn't exist, even more if it was his fault. But that was before – before the truth came to light, before he had a reason to try and live again.
He broke away from her and turned away as he told his sorry tale. The Pyxis. Marbas. Ella. Magnus. The ball. The truth. Everything.
"And Jem?" she asked. It was all he could do not to smile. Here he was, professing all his life and love to her, and she asks of James.
"James was what I had allowed myself. Cruellest thing I've ever done, allowing someone to be close to me for I could not bear to be completely alone. I thought I was doing him a favour. I believed I was so as to not completely despise myself. And then I met you and I just couldn't. I couldn't handle feeling for you the way I do and not act on it, knowing that if I do – I would – could - kill you too."
"Will," she said again. Her hand was on his arm and he turned to face her. She looked the way he dreamed she would look at him as he told her. With all the understanding and compassion in the world, the way he knew she would. He took her hand in his and pressed it to his cheek.
"Aren't you supposed to take the off the glove?" He chuckled and saw that she was smiling at him.
"I love you," he whispered before kissing her again. He could feel her smile against him and everything inside of him was light.
Finally. Finally. Finally.
No more of the guilt, the lies, the pain – for everyone and for him. No more of the façade and the pushing people away. He was free and he was finally free to love her.
"Do you love me?" he asked, unable to stop himself – that final burden on his shoulders.
She pulled away from him and held his face in her small, perfect hands.
"You've always come first in my heart."
He joined his lips to hers once more and he closed his eyes, entrancing himself in the scent of her.
His eyes opened to the sound of tapping against the window. The soft rain still pitter-pattered on the glass and she was looking at him with those Tessa-coloured eyes of hers. They were almost at the Institute and he grinned at her, unable to keep himself from dreaming.