A/N: hey guys! this chapter kind of ran away with me, and not much really happens, oops, but i'm setting down the foundations of the story, and the start of the romance, as there are definitely confused feelings here ;) essentially i thought of the cute mandarin session thing, and then this happened ahah i hope you enjoy! Please read and review
It had been around five years since that first meeting between Will and Jem, and they got along better than Will had ever expected.
Since meeting Jem, Will had been inexplicably lighter; he finally had someone to talk to, someone to laugh with. The only people he had ever been close to like this before were his sisters, and Jem was nothing like either of them. Jem was simply Jem, an indeterminable mystery that had captivated Will and would not let go. Their friendship was magical, and being around Jem, well it made him a better person. Whilst he had to continue pushing the other residents of the Institute away, he could let Jem get close. He could allow himself to be honest and fun and real with Jem, qualities that he daren't show in front of anyone else.
As they grew up, from awkward young teenagers into blooming young men, their friendship had grown up with them. From mischievous to mature, Jem and Will had grown and shaped each other in ways that neither really understood. Will was so grateful for Jem's company, and even though he felt guilty every time Jem coughed, wondered if he was dying even quicker because of Will, he couldn't stop being friends with Jem, couldn't stop loving Jem. Jem was the brother he'd never had, the best friend he's never known he'd needed.
When Will found himself feeling glum, when the wretchedness that accompanied his stupid curse occasionally crept up on him, Jem's smiling face and glinting silver eyes were there to take it away, because he was allowed to love him, and Jem was allowed to love him back. It was the one small consolation he got. Jem could always life the sadness from his inky, blue eyes.
And when Jem became weak and dizzy after a long period of time without his yin fen, it was Will that he reached out towards, gripping his hand like a life line. Which in itself was darkly ironic. But Will was always there to squeeze Jem's hand in return, to whisper soft things at him in hushed tone because he needed Jem to live another day, because Jem deserved to live another day. Will had never met anyone as inherently good as Jem, and Will would do anything to reverse their places, because he knew that Jem was undeniably a better person than him. Will was always the one to get them into trouble, and Jem was the one who got them out of it. That was how their friendship seemed to work. A push and pull, give and take.
There was no one in the world he would ever trust more than Jem. Jem was all he had now, and he was so happy to have him. He couldn't envision how he would cope without him. He had grown accustomed to everything about Jem, from his strange silver hair to his melodic laugh to his knowing, shiny eyes. And Will let Jem know him intimately too. He trusted Jem with his life, and he knew that Jem trusted him too.
Jem made his life at the Institute more bearable. Jessamine continued to consistently dislike him, and whilst he knew that Charlotte and Henry did not love him, thankfully, he knew that he was altogether more tolerable in Jem's presence. He brought out the best in Will, without even realising it half the time.
They were seventeen now, clutching onto the edges of manhood. Will could map out the changes in Jem's appearance over the years: he had grown tall, taller than Will, though only slightly, and he was still very slender, but he was not too thin. His face had become more mature as he had gone through puberty, and he was now a painstakingly beautiful young man.
His hands never changed though, remaining the musician's hands Will had always known them to be.
Since the first time Jem had seen those inky, blue eyes, he knew that this boy in front of him would be something different. It was his utter determination that drew Jem towards him; the way that he had refused to give up throwing knives at the target, even though he clearly didn't know how to do it properly and was failing abysmally at teaching himself. He hadn't given up, and that had sparked an odd sense of admiration in Jem, and something else, a funny sort of feeling that panged through his body and that Jem couldn't quite name.
He and Will had grown awfully close over the last five years, and Jem felt so guilty for letting Will get that close to him. He knew that it would only make his inevitable death that much more painful for Will, but once he had become friends with him he just couldn't stop, he was far too weak to give something as good as this up. Will was his best friend, which was a new and altogether exciting sensation.
Jem was wandering around the maze-like Institute, his footsteps clacking on the polished floor. Being alone was weird now; he was so used to having Will's laughing voice just a few steps behind him that when he was alone it was like a part of him was missing.
He abruptly turned a corner, lost to his thoughts of Will, and the shade of Will's eyes, and the curve of Will's mouth when he smiled, and promptly nearly knocked Sophie the maid over.
"Jem!" she exclaimed as she stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over her skirt. She was obviously a bit flustered, and her scarred face blushed scarlet. "I should've seen you coming. I'm sorry."
"Nonsense, it was my fault, I was lost in my own little world."
He paused slightly, because he knew that Sophie, not unusually, didn't like nor care for Will that much. Jem had always found it strange that Will was always so real and funny and amicable with him, yet blunt, almost verging on cruel with other people. It pained him that no one else seemed to see the goodness that Jem saw shining out of the other boy; instead they only saw his darkest corners. If Will was himself around everyone else, maybe they would love him like Jem did. As it was though, they either did not know him or had reason to dislike him.
"Say, Sophie, you don't happen to know where Will is?" he asked hesitantly, knowing that Sophie was one of the people who Will particularly didn't get along with.
A look of ill-hidden yet fleeting distaste danced across Sophie's features, before she said, sighing, "He's in the library. Again. Probably burying his head in some gothic novel again, shutting out everything important."
That certainly sounded like Will. When things got the slightest bit difficult, Will lost himself in books, it was his escape, just as playing the violin was Jem's.
"Thank you," he murmured to Sophie, and began to make hi way to the library.
It was truly an extraordinary room, a cavernous expanse filled with shelf upon shelf crammed with countless books, from contemporary novels to books that were so old they looked as if they would crumble upon touch. Jem could understand what attracted Will to this place so much; the smell of the pages of books hung in the air, and there was an endless amount of possibilities to choose upon entering.
He found Will in his favourite corner, a stack of books piled on the floor next to where he lay, his feet on the chair in front of him, but his back on the floor. Will often took to reading in the strangest of positions, which shifted constantly as the events of the books unravelled. One time Jem had walked in to find him with his feet dangling out of the window, another time he had been upside down, dangling off one of the ladders in the library, though admittedly that position hadn't lasted very long after he nearly fell when Jem had spoken his name.
The expression on Will's face as his eyes darted across the page, living some adventure or heart break or joke through the characters was something that would never cease to fascinate Jem. He seemed so serene, even when he was agitated or when there were tears in his eyes. His deep, blue eyes were unseeing lost to all the world apart from the one he was living in at that moment. He was so expressive when he was reading in a way that he rarely was usually, and just seeing him made Jem grin for some reason, and it made his heart beat kind of funnily.
"William," Jem whispered, almost hesitant to break him out of his trance. Will tilted his head away from the book, so he was looking at Jem upside down from the floor. His face broke out into a smile, the smile that Jem was so familiar with, and Jem' heart leapt.
"James. You look funny."
Jem sighed. "That is probably because you are viewing me upside down. I'm sure that position can't be comfortable, or particularly good for you."
The grin on Will's face only widened as he got up, his good mood seemingly etched across his face. "I barely even noticed it, to be honest. I just ended up in this position; I was too absorbed with the book."
Will's good mood was apparently infectious, because Jem found his spirits lifting, and a small smile spread across his face. "I know. Is it a good book?"
"It is a book that is filled with beautiful imagery, and love and it has lifted my spirits, which you can probably tell. Being broody and elusive is so dull sometimes, Jem. Being optimistic is much more enjoyable."
"This is most odd of you. What have you done with my dear friend Will, since you are clearly some monster impersonating him. He would never be this jovial."
Will clutched his chest in a mocking gesture. "Oh you wound me, James Carstairs. Am I really seen as a moody person?"
Jem smiled. He smiled so much around Will. "I think that it is because, despite the fact that I'm dying, I am so nice to people, and you are, well, an acquired taste. I simply outshine you in terms of good moods."
Despite the jokey tone in Jem's voice, Will's smile froze, and he turned away ever so slightly, his eyes downcast. "You're not dying, Jem. You can't just say that."
Will's tone of voice was so heart-breaking, and a lump formed in Jem's throat, but he knew what he had to say. "Yes I am, Will. I'm dying, and there's nothing either of us can do about it, so we may as well get used to talking about it, because otherwise it will be so much harder. For me as well as you."
"Saying that you are dying denotes that you've given up. And I don't think I would be able to bear it if you gave up."
Jem leant down and touched Will's arm, trying to be casual but sometimes he just needed to touch Will. Will was Jem's anchor, in so many different ways, many of which Jem couldn't even begin to describe. He looked up at Jem, his iridescent eyes full of pain.
"I'm not giving up, Will, I promise I never will. It's just that I've accepted the likely outcome. It doesn't mean that I have to like it, or that I won't fight for every day that I'm still here."
There was a long silence, like a held breath. The room was thrumming with unspoken tension, and then Jem noticed he was still touching Will's arm, and Will seemed to notice too, and the tension shifted into something else. He knew he should move his hand away, but fingers moved of their own accord and then they were cupping Will's cheek, and Will's skin was so warm underneath his. The effect on Jem was startling: his heart stuttered in his chest like crazy and his thoughts were racing yet he was frozen.
Pink coloured Will's pale cheeks, and finally the atmosphere in the room seemed to snap; Will pulled away from Jem's hand and Jem blushed and took a couple of steps away, opening his mouth to say something, to blurt out some excuse. Will beat him to it though, and his smile was back. The weirdness of the moment seemed to be over, and Will was Will and Jem was Jem and everything was just fine.
"Will you give me another Mandarin lesson, Jem? I've been practising. And hopefully my good mood will make a somewhat less insufferable student." Will had always been good at changing the subject, turning a serious conversation into something trivial.
"Some things just can't be changed, William," he said, letting Will know that he was welcome of the change of subject. There was a weird feeling bubbling around inside of Jem, and he wanted any distraction from it.
"Does that mean yes?" There was mischief behind those blue eyes, and Jem forgot any awkwardness, because he was lost in those eyes again.
"Have I ever said no?"
Jem had first began to teach Will Mandarin when they were about fourteen, but it was very sporadic; something to do when both of them were bored. Will had tried to teach him Welsh, but Jem had found that he's had no taking for the language whatsoever, and Will laughed at his pronunciation so much that they'd given up. But Will had always been more intrigued by Mandarin, and he knew that it was Jem's first language, the language he spoke for most of his childhood, and he wanted to share that with Jem.
Their lessons had been becoming more frequent, as Will's fluency began to increase, he began to genuinely enjoy the lessons more, and Jem was more than happy to teach him. Because he had no one else to speak it with, whenever he said something in Mandarin that Will understood, he felt like they were sharing their own private moment, something that no one else could share. It felt personal, and when Will spoke to him in the language of his childhood, he couldn't pretend that it didn't thrill him.
Their current lesson was going well, though Jem was running out of ways to teach Will. He was no teacher after all, and he didn't really know what the natural progression for learning a language. He had taken to simply asking Will what words he'd like to learn.
"What would you like to learn today? We've covered so many random topics, I can't predict what will be next." There was a smile in Jem's voice; he loved the fact that Will was so utterly unpredictable like this. They'd spent their last lesson learning various words for breakfast items, and the time before complex grammatical structures.
Will grinned. "Flirtations, my dear James."
"How did I know this was going to come up sooner or later?" he said, shaking his head. "You're such a player, Will."
"On the contrary, I think the word you're looking for is debonair."
"Ni hen piao liang."
The tone of his voice had betrayed him. He had meant to wound witty, and to continue with the light-hearted jokes that the conversation had been made up of, but instead it sounded like he was saying something serious and full of meaning. There was a weight to his words that he didn't really understand, and Jem's voice felt thick after saying it.
Will must have sensed the shift, because there was not a hint of banter in his voice as he said, "What does that mean?"
Jem couldn't manage more than a whisper.
"It means 'You are beautiful'."
He wasn't sure why saying innocent phrases like this was so nerve-wracking for Jem. He wasn't even saying the words to Will, merely teaching him the words so that he could use them to woo various girls.
And yet he was embarrassed and very inappropriately overcome with the desire to say these things to Will properly, because it was true. He did think Will was beautiful, but perhaps not in a romantic way. It was perfectly normal to recognise that your friend was attractive, even if they were of the same gender.
Wasn't it?
Will looked down, and then back at Jem. "Well, that's certainly a useful phrase then," he murmured, softly. It felt as if both of them were walking on ice, not really sure where to tread next.
They continued like this for a while, each time Jem said something that he tried to make sound effortless, but each time he said romantic words to Will, even though he wasn't saying them to him in that way, his voice hitched without him meaning for it too, and he almost stuttered. He couldn't seem to raise his voice to more than a whisper, and Will's voice was soft too. Jem, who knew Will better than anyone, all of a sudden couldn't read him at all. It was altogether unnerving, the whole situation.
The worlds tumbled out of Jem's mouth before he could stop them. "Wo ai ni."
They were the most confident words Jem had spoken since the whole ordeal had started, which startled him. He knew that the words were the truth: he loved Will more than anyone, but he'd never said that. He'd just assumed that Will knew how he felt, the way that he knew that Will loved him. They were best friends, of course they loved each other.
But saying them made it real, and all of a sudden Jem wasn't sure exactly how he loved Will. Love like this was something that he couldn't quite wrap his head around.
"Wo ai ni?" His voice was quiet, and so familiar yet so distant.
"I love you." He was so very nearly tempted to say Will at the end, to address the words to him, but he stopped himself and pushed down the urge, unsure how Will would react.
Then Will did something that Jem will never forget: he reached over so his hand was on top of Jem's and said, without any tentativeness, "Wo ai ni, James."
Jem's breath caught in his throat, and that feeling was back in the room again, unidentifiable and infuriating, yet exciting at the same time. He could hear his heart pudding in his chest, and could feel Will's stuttering pulse from their small contact.
"Wo ye ai ni, William." I love you too.
The feeling was electrifying, and all of a sudden their hands weren't enough; Jem wanted to touch Will all over, to feel his hot skin against his. The thought brought heat flooding to his cheeks, and he pushed it down into the deep crevices of his mind. He couldn't afford to even think things like that.
It was Jem who finally pulled away, casting his eyes downwards after what seemed like an eternity of stillness, of Will's violet eyes meeting his silver ones.
The words that were finally spoken, and the words that were still left unspoken, lingered in the room and the two boys. The dynamics of their relationship had changed, and they both knew it, but neither of them wanted to face it just yet.
