March 4th, 1988
"Tessa! Are you coming with me? We're going to be late." Magnus's irate voice ricocheted around his spacious loft. It took him forever to close the deal on this one. Brooklyn has such awful real estate.
He allowed another moment to pass, before yelling again.
"Tessa! What could she be doing?" he muttered.
Sighing to himself, he dragged himself up the stairs and down the hallway until he stood just outside of Tessa's room. Hesitating for a moment, he knocked. No sound came from the other side.
"Tessa?" He pushed open the door.
The first thing he saw was the open trunk. His heart sank as he stepped further into the room, already knowing what to expect. She was sitting in a pool of fabric- a mess of beautiful, Victorian dresses. She was staring down at them and rubbing something in her hand, not acknowledging Magnus, as if she didn't know he was there. Magnus stepped into the room and quietly lowered himself to the ground.
"It's March 4th," she whispered. It was explanation enough.
"Oh, darling." He ached for her, and cursed himself for forgetting the date. This one day- every year since his death- he would find her surrounded by everything memory of him that she had. He knew without looking at it that Tessa was holding his witchlight in her hands. Magnus knew that it was unhealthy of her to do this - scary, even- but he also knew that love was a powerful force; once it completely broke someone, that part of them was gone forever. It was agonizing to watch his best friend dwell in her memories this way.
Magnus watched big, crystal tears gather in her eyes, and said nothing as one by one they fell to the floor. He didn't touch her- he tried hugging her the first time, in 1943, and that only made it worse- as he silently got up and left, shutting the door behind him. He knew the only thing that helped was letting her be. She needed a day to just remember William Herondale.
Tomorrow she would be fine. She wouldn't be happy or sad. She wouldn't be in extreme anguish, nor would she be bouncing with the light she used to have. She would be fine, and she would be living, the closest someone like Tessa would ever get to it, that is. Tomorrow, she would pretend like March 4th never happened, and Magnus wouldn't contradict her. Tomorrow would be tomorrow. All they had to do was get through today.