Tears From the Moon

Chapter 4. They Insulted My Pride

He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on -
He stuns you by degrees -
Prepares your brittle Nature
For the Ethereal Blow
By fainter Hammers - further heard -
Then nearer - Then so slow
Your Breath has time to straighten -
Your Brain - to bubble Cool -
Deals - One - imperial - Thunderbolt -
That scalps your naked Soul -

When Winds take Forests in the Paws -
The Universe - is still -

~He Fumbles At Your Soul by Emily Dickinson

"Think of it as a clock, beating in rhythm with the world, but keeping at pace with our lives. Our hearts push blood much the same. From one point to another it carries our life force if you will…" Jean-Luc was in mid lecture by the time Jem realized he was hardly listening. Half way through the first week he knew he could test out, but listening to his professor speak of the way a heart should beat made his own burn inside his chest. It was beautiful watching him relaxed now in clothes that were still fitting to his figure, but with freedom now to move around the classroom without heavy coats weighing him down. It was enchanting really, but it was his voice that pulled Jem in. He loved the accent, the way his words melted on the edge of his lips in a way that only the French could, and how his kind eyes lit up when he got excited about a certain segment in his lecture. He was passionate about his profession, and compared to all the other professors he was one of the few that still loved his job.

Jem got in the habit of getting there a bit early, and was happy to take the seat at the front. It put him the closest to his professor, and it made him feel protected. Jean-Luc would bring a clay kettle that balanced on the edge of his cane with tea so hot that the steam rose from it like phantoms. He would pour them both a cup that reminded Jem of home, and enjoyed the morning talk while laughter filling the room until the students started to trickle in. One by one, Jem waited for William to pass through the doors as if he waited on air to breathe, and finally when the dark haired boy passed through the doors Jem would glance to the open seat beside him. Everyday, Will wouldn't take it—no one would, but every day Jem wished they would.

William hadn't been late since his first class, but he hardly kept close to Jem. He instead clung to the corners like a spider hiding on the last row, and half listening as his eyes carried over the room. He seemed on edge, and every day it was the same routine. He would hide in the midst of the dark aisle, and wait to crack one more joke in Jem's direction.

Jean-Luc's voice started to ease into his lecture as if he were talking to his reflection; he felt at ease, but William could hardly listen. Too many voices around him spoke of the dawning weekend, and where the parties were going to be. He heard rumors of an underground show in the night club beneath the graveyard. He listened to a few boys before him speak of the girl they banged the night before, and of the way she cleaned their cocks afterward. However, when their words shifted to the professor, and the rumors flying about he and the white haired boy, William lifted his face from his chin to listen.

"I heard he gets the test answers for blow-jobs, and that's why he finishes so fast." Jem was always the first to finish a quiz, and leaves without so much as a second glance over his shoulder as if he did not worry at all. He was brilliant, why didn't anyone see this? Rage curled William's fingers as he wanted to clock the fool into submission, but the boy continued, "I bet he's infected that's what makes his hair white." Those words were enough to have Jem killed on the streets, and Will tensed in preparation to tear out this ass's heart.

"Master Herondale," Jean-Luc's voice broke the silence, and with it his calm. "I will put you with Mr. Carstairs." Jem looked horrified while William wondered when he had started assigning partners for their latest project. Was this a trick? Jem almost looked hurt at the professor, but Jean-Luc kept his level eyes on Will who was now becoming the brunt of every joke. He knew well what he was doing, and no doubt Jean-Luc had his reasons.

"Maybe he'll give you a blowjob to sit beside him." They snickered in arrogant whispers, and without second thought Will left his seat to tackle the jock sending them both crashing into the aisle. His half leather bound hands wrapped around the boy's neck while crushing his larynx with his thumbs.

"Take it back!" William was rough, and through the years pushing through school on his own—you learned to survive. He was street-smart, but it seemed the hard lines of his exterior knew well enough how to bring a man down. With his thumb pressed to the jock's neck it was closing off the air just in the right place to render him useless.

The room went silent save for Jem's little gasp as he started to stand. His heart pounded watching Will, but what could he do? He was but a single small star in the ever-black night that was William Herondale, and no body ever got in his way. Jem only managed a small set of steps before he felt the hand of his Professor touch his shoulder, and his attention turned on how cold Jean-Luc's fingers were. They felt like ice, frigid, and frozen, and broke him from his natural reaction. Before, Jem could pull away Jean-Luc was moving in the direction of the fight, until all he could see was his long ebon strands as he disappeared around the speculators.

Everything was happening so fast that Jem was hardly given time to think, much less notice that Jean-Luc moved without his cane. Staring at it now perched against the Professor's desk it seemed so surreal. The ruby red flashed for a moment as if held a heart beat of its own, and Jem felt compelled to take it to its Master.

The end of the fight broke through his thoughts, and Jem followed William with his eyes as both he and the jock were escorted to the hall. His heart jumped in his chest when he felt the weight of the entire classroom's eyes on him as if accusing him of starting the brawl. His fingers tightened around Jean-Luc's cane, and he met the Professor at the door to deliver it.

"Are you going to fail him?" Jem asked breathless as he met the dark eyes of the Frenchman with worry, and tried to peer around Jean-Luc into the hall where William's figure was slowly departing. The navy black of Jean's eyes were torment because Jem could not read them. He couldn't tell what the Professor was thinking, or judge the fate of those who dare interrupt his lecture; but he wanted to. He worried over William so much that often it kept him up at night, and he tried to fight with reason as to why?

Jean-Luc looked over Jem, and worried of the way he held his hands so tightly over the ruby of his walking stick. He could even wager that if he could feel the heart pulsing beneath his chest it would be racing, but from what? Fear? Resentment? In all his years he would never understand that of the innocent, but the small glance to William gave it all away.

"I would not fail him, but" Jean-Luc took to the cane, and let is stance fall into it, "I think it would be very wise for everyone to take into account that I will not put up with disturbances of any childish nature." He looked out over the class, and dismissed them. He was in far too much pain to continue, but the only indication of such came with his limp; and how his knuckles were white holding onto the cane.

Jem without hesitation gathered his things, and made way for the open door. The hall was empty save for a few straggling students between classes, but when he ventured into the courtyard his silver eyes scanned for any sign of Will. They were appointed partners in the group project that was their final grade, and he wasn't about to allow him to get away that easy. It would be what made or broke them; and Jem wasn't going to let William fail. He had made it his personal goal to keep Will in line, and he wasn't about to let him throw it away now. He didn't worry over his own grade, knowing well he could carry the project just fine on his own, but it was clear no matter how strong Will made himself appear—he was lost.

"What was that about?" Jem spoke all at once when he breathlessly caught up to Will who had taken refuge under one of the large oaks in the midst of the school grounds. He sat with his back propped against the trunk, and his knees bent to his chest. However his arms hung lazily over his knees, and his face was shadowed lightly by his hair. Beneath the thick wisps of jet black, Jem could see his face was brooding dark, and dangerous. He felt like shivering when William looked up at him, but then felt like punching him when his lips parted to laugh.

"You think its funny?" Jem asked with his eyes wide, and his little fists clenched at his side, "Are you really laughing at me?" William pressed the back of his head to the bark of the tree to get a better look at this sight. He could see the anger over Jem's pale skin, and the flush that fixed it was enough to color his face. His eyes swirled black almost, and when the wind pressed his white strands of hair across his face the reflection looked like little sirens in the sea ready to pull him in. He really was beautiful.

"I'm laughing aren't I? Something must be funny." With that William tested Jem, and was met with a reaction even he was surprised about.

The Moon Colored Boy lowered to level with Will there perched to the tree, and spoke to him almost as if he were a child. Will could tell that Jem in no way meant to restrain the way his words sounded, and was shocked at how brash he was being.

"I'm not the one wasting everyone's time, Your parents money paying for this school, and all this useless energy fighting off fools who probably just insulted your pride. Do you think this is a game? Do you even know how lucky you are to have been accepted here? This." Jem pointed to Will's chest, "Makes me realize that somewhere beneath all of this defiance is some sort of brain, but if you want to throw it all away over…over.." Jem hadn't thought that far, though Will was all he thought about. He wanted to figure him out, but the boy didn't give him any clues. "You are not stupid are you?" It really was beautiful the way anger brought out Jem's accent.

"Over having a good time. Jem. Don't you know how to live?" The truth was, he was so behind in all of his subjects that he would never catch up. His nights were spent in parties, and his days were spent recovering. When he did sleep, he dreamed about blood, and when he was awake it was still all he could think about.

"This is living for me." Jem's voice lost the anger, and he sat back in the grass. He looked almost child like he was so thin, willowy, and innocent. Finally, he lifted his face to look at Will once more, and realized he too had let go of his defiant smirk. He looked almost normal, and very young. "I can help you." Jem admitted carefully, knowing you didn't go offering anything to those who refused to help themselves, but Will didn't protest.

"Professor, put us together for a reason. Maybe he knows." Will wanted to laugh at how panicked Jem looked in that moment. Know what? How could he know? Jem hadn't told anyone of his crush! William fought back laughter, and really needed to teach the white haired boy a lesson on how to mask his emotions. "Knows how badly I need you…" With that Jem flushed until Will continued, "Your help I mean."

William didn't need his help he simply needed his dedication, and he needed direction. He needed someone to pull him back down, and Jem knew this. With his little frail hands on his thighs, he was perched there with his head bent forward, and his eyes closed for a moment. Jem let the world move around him for a moment, and wondered very carefully with the wind over his face. He felt the energy around him, and sighed in the breeze. It was beautiful to watch, and though William had read about it in books, he never knew how enchanting Tai Chi could be. Jem was centering himself, calming his nerves, and finding his heart again. And when his eyes opened once more they were silver again, and William thought of a picture he had skimmed of China once; silver springs through the lush green mountains.

"So," Jem started in a quiet yet calm voice, "Why did you fight that boy?"

William didn't have an answer, not yet. He knew he couldn't make Jem understand, but if he could only see himself the way William saw him—he would understand. Beauty like his was worth fighting for, because it was so rare.

"He insulted my pride." William smirked folding his hands behind his neck as he pressed his head back against the tree, and though it was partly a lie; It was also the truth. His 'pride' simply had stunningly beautiful eyes, and was innocent of the ugly rumors being spoken about him.

They insulted you…

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Lallie Of Awesome (Lallie_O) Because tomorrow is her birthday! Wish her a happy birthday both here and on Twitter? Happy Birthday Lallie!

Ignore mistakes in this chapter, I didn't have it Beta'd. My Beta is in Europe, and though she told me to email her with things to update, I still feel guilty. She's a busy beaver! Have fun Ky! Miss you.

Have a good week everyone, and reviews get updates faster! With Center of the Sun winding down, these will start coming faster.

Thanks for reading!