Yes, yes, this is short and I haven't posted in forever, but I'm kind of grounded. I snuck this off at 1 AM, so it might be a while before the next chapter comes up. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter: Will

Will Herondale did not like to be touched. Charlotte's well-meaning hugs were borne in stony silence; Jem's would-be comforting hand on his shoulder was shrugged off; Belle's touch made him want so much more that he had to pull away. He supposed it had to do with the fact that touching meant affection, affection he knew he did not deserve.

He only allowed himself to be touched for an hour at the most, when he made his way to the brothels. That act was not affectionate at all. Passionate, yes, but affectionate, never. Not like that. Which, of course, made him especially depressed to see Belle and Jem touching at breakfast.

Nothing hardcore of course, which probably would have elicited some projectile vomiting, but they were facing each other, their knees were pressed together, and they were holding hands. Specifically, Belle held one of Jem's hands in both her own, examining it steadily as he spoke.

It made Will quite uncomfortable, but he watched on. He saw the twin pale faces bent together so as to whisper, silver locks tangling with black curls, her slender hands stroking Jem's scarred palm.

Jem leaned forward even more to murmur one last something into Belle's ear, which made her smile shyly before their lips met softly, fleetingly. The next second they were back to speaking in hushed tones, about what, Will could only guess. Everything and nothing, he supposed.

"Well," he drawled in the exact tone that so irritated Jem and really, everyone else as well, "not that anyone cares, but I'm off."

Three months ago, Jem would have requested to come with, or at the very least inquired as to his destination. As it was, he barely looked away from Belle to say, "Be back before dinner, Charlotte has some announcement she wants you to hear."

Well, that was to be expected, Will thought. Jem had more important things to worry about, though he didn't even know it. The light in his eyes wasn't dimmed, which was how Will knew Belle hadn't shared her news. He didn't think she ever would, but he could always ask her that night. He had plans, because, as Magnus informed him, her eighteenth birthday was in a week. However, she might not even be around at that point, or if she was, she would be too consumed with her upcoming task to want to think about such a menial date.

Will took it upon himself to do something nice for his best friend's true love, because he knew Jem would thank him someday. Jem would never forgive Will if he knew he latter had a chance to make his girl happy and didn't take it. Of course, Jem might not forgive Will for telling him about Belle's decision… or for not trying to stop her.

These thoughts and a thousand more, all in a similar vein, tumbled over and over in Will's mind until he thought he might go mad with the pain of it all. He walked as fast as he could to the nearest brothel and slept with a girl whose name he didn't bother to learn, a girl who looked nothing at all like Jem's Belle, a girl who could help him forget the pain if only for a moment.

Chapter: Belle

After breakfast, Belle followed Jem to his bedroom. Until that moment, she hadn't noticed the French doors that led to a little balcony outside, but that's where he took her. They spread out on the balcony's floor and looked up at the grey masses of clouds, hoping it wouldn't begin to rain.

"You know," Jem said after a long length of silence, "I almost have trouble thinking of you as one of the fey; is that odd?"

"No," she said with a laugh. "I look and act like a mundane, don't I?"

"You're a damn sight nearer than any mundane I've ever met, and you act more like a Shadowhunter than a mundane."

She thought about that. "No," she said again. "I'm quite in touch with the mundane world, you know, and my knowledge of the Shadowhunter world only comes from the Lightwoods. As for my looks… I thank you, but do I look like any other faerie you've seen?"

She didn't have to turn her head to know that he looked at her carefully. "I suppose not," he admitted finally. "No wings."

"If one were to travel to the Seelie Court, one might observe the Queen's handmaidens, some of which look like beautiful human girls except for their black, insectile eyes," Belle explained. "Perhaps I'm one of them."

"You have green eyes."

"Not naturally, I don't."

Jem sat up. "What do you mean, not naturally? What have you forgotten to tell me?"

She sighed and looked over at his lovely, bemused face. "When you have an exiled father living among mundanes, it helps to look like one of them. With the right spell…" She gestured at her eyes. "It's a permanent glamour."

"I didn't know they could do that."

"They probably couldn't," she smirked. "But there are those who push the rules of magic farther than are necessary."

"It's odd that you go to great lengths to pretend you're not what you are. You fall in love with Shadowhunters, befriend them as well as vampires and warlocks, refuse to speak of your family, and hide the one identifying feature you have. What's so awful about being fey?"

Belle pulled herself to a position where she could rest on her elbows. "They don't want me," she said quietly. "I'm practically exiled, and even if I were not… Well, my blood makes me different, in a bad way, at least to them. They don't want me," she repeated, "so I will not be one of them."

"What are you, then, if not a faerie? Mundane, Shadowhunter, vampire, warlock?"

"I'm Belle," she whispered. "Isn't that enough?"

Jem sighed as though annoyed, but he smiled and kissed her. "It's more than enough. I love you for you, not for what you are. I mean, not because you're a faerie, but –"

"I understand," she laughed. "Come on, you're all I want, so why should I be any less?"

"Cheeky little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, his eyes darkening from their usual ash silver to a more iron grey.

"Maybe I am," she said breathlessly, lying back down and inviting him over. He crawled over her gratefully, kissing her again and again, until they were led down the path of the day before, and neither wanted to stop it.