A/N: (I promise there is an update here, but there are some business matters and other things I need to take care of in an author's note first. Please read the whole thing. I'll try to be concise.)
Hello everyone! How are you? Are you well? I hope your summer is wonderful and that wherever you are is not quite as hot as the Los Angeles area, because I'm dying over here. It's a 108 degrees out today! So, first order of business: Don't forget about this month's contest!! The theme is Disney, and they can be one-shots or drawings or something else if you've got an idea for something else.
Second thing: I have a proper prize system figured out now! If you win, you can choose between either a one-shot with a plot and setting of your choosing dedicated to you (I can't promise when it will be finished, just that it eventually will be), or a small piece of TID fandom merchandise shipped to you if you're comfortable giving me your address. (Also, if I know you in real life, I'll take you to the movies or bake cupcakes or something, but that's a total of about two of you, I think.)
Third and final thing: We hit another milestone! 18K total reads and 1K total votes! It hasn't even been my two year anniversary with this collection yet, and we're already here. It's amazing. Thanks for all the love and support. Your comments remind me that I have a large and enthusiastic number of people who want me to get out of bed today because they're excited for what comes next on our journey. It's incredibly motivating. Thank you for all of that!
(I failed at being concise. Sorry. I get excited talking to you guys because I love you a lot.)
Alright, I'm done monologuing at you. Enjoy! Vote, comment, you know the drill! 💙🌻
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
If Will didn't get his hands on the sequel to this book in the next two days, he was convinced he was going to go crazy. What kind of monster ended a book on a cliffhanger like that?
Mind still reeling, he looked at the base of the wall where the book had landed. "I'm sorry," he said, crossing the room and picking the book up. "It's not your fault your author is a sadist." He carefully slid the book back onto one of the many shelves around his apartment and grabbed his wallet and keys.
He was going on an adventure to find the sequel, and he was determined.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Will was sure he'd visited almost every bookstore in London, and his prize was nowhere to be found. Sighing, he had resigned himself to a few more days in suspense when a tiny shopfront down a narrow street caught his eye.
Walking down the street, he grinned when he saw the small, chalkboard sign by the door that read "Cellar Door Books- Welcome!" in neat script. Pushing the door open, he looked around curiously. It wasn't often he found a bookshop he'd never been in before.
The shelves were wall to wall and floor to ceiling, surrounding the shop with books. The only places not lined with shelves were the wide windows, letting sunlight brighten the small space. In front of the windows were two squat armchairs, well-loved but very comfortable looking. Shorter shelves wove through the interior, leaving just enough space to walk along the wood floors and peruse the books. There was no one else in the shop, save for one man about Will's age sitting crosslegged on a stool behind the ancient-looking register, playing a violin.
The soft, clear music in the background and the warmth of the sunlight gave the store an almost dream-like quality. Will paused for a moment, looking at the peaceful beauty of the undisturbed shop and drinking it in before hesitantly clearing his throat.
The man at the register started, playing stopping abruptly. "Sorry," he smiled sheepishly, setting the violin aside and looking at Will, "I didn't hear you come in. Welcome."
He was absolutely beautiful, but in a quiet sort of way that made Will want to look at him for hours. Narrow frame, strong jaw, and high cheekbones were softened by gray eyes and long eyelashes, strangely silver hair making him look like an illustration out of a book.
The mysterious man gave him a strange look, and Will realized with a jolt that he'd been staring.
"Sorry," Will said lightly. "I tend to be captivated by beautiful people."
To Will's delight, he smiled and looked Will up and down very quickly. "I imagine it's difficult for you to pull away from a mirror, then."
"There are sacrifices we must make in search of fine literature," Will sighed. "And on that note, I was hoping you could help me...?" He trailed off, not knowing his name.
"I'm James Carstairs," he smiled, coming around the counter. "Or Jem, if you prefer. And you are?"
"Will Herondale," he replied instantly, forcing himself to not get distracted. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. What are you looking for?"
Back in comfortable territory instead of uncertain flirting, Will launched into a description of the book he was looking for, following Jem like a puppy throughout the shop as they searched.
Finally, Will held it up triumphantly, smiling at the pristine cover waiting to be opened.
"There it is," he said, pleased. "I've been looking all over London for this book."
James smiled and gave a casual shrug, walking back to the register. "If you're ever looking for a book you can't find, just give me the title and I can order it in for you."
Will laughed. "You shouldn't have told me that. Now I'll be in here all the time."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," came the light retort as Will watched nimble fingers ring up his book. "But the company would always be welcome." Smiling again, Jem handed the book over, letting their hands brush for a moment. "Have a nice day."
Will managed something similar in response and walked out of the shop without embarrassing himself further.
He'd just found his new favorite place in London.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
The next rainy day found Will ducking under the awning and shaking the water out of his curls before opening the door to the sweet sound of violin music.
"Morning," he called, shutting the door behind him.
"Will! I wasn't expecting you back so soon. Finished the other book already?" Jem's voice, in Will's biased opinion, was even lovelier than the music.
"Couldn't put it down," he replied, wandering aimlessly amongst the shelves. "I told you that you'd be seeing a lot of me."
"Lucky me. If there's anything you need, just let me know."
Will barely managed to swallow the urge to reply with 'your number', and picked up a book at random just to have something to do with his hands.
He didn't usually get this flustered while trying to hit on someone. Something about James was sending all of his usual charm out the window, leaving the quirkier parts of Will without the charisma to compensate, feeling a bit like a high schooler desperately trying to make eye contact with a cute boy in his class.
'Get your shit together, Herondale.'
"So," he said, trying to ease into small talk, "How long has this place been open?"
There was a slight, indecipherable pause before Jem spoke carefully. "It was my father's for a while, years ago. He left London about twenty years ago, and it was under my uncle's name. He didn't keep it open, but he paid the bills, so no one tried to close it. I reopened it when I moved to London four months ago."
"Mmm. And what brought you to London? Where were you before?"
"You're a curious one, aren't you?" Jem teased with a laugh. "I lived in Shanghai until four months ago. And I moved for... Familial reasons. The shop was a good distraction and something constructive to do with my time." His tone was carefully light, and Will got the impression that he was skating on rather thin ice.
His curiosity peaked, and he tried to squash it down. Shanghai did explain the undertones to his accent, partly British and partly something beautiful and foreign.
"Have you seen much of London?" Will asked, leaning against the counter on his elbows, hoping the rain hadn't disheveled his hair horribly.
"Not yet," Jem replied, mimicking his posture until they were less than a foot apart. "I've been adjusting. London feels different from home, somehow, even at its roots. It's been a strange experience."
"Is London more crowded than you're used to?"
Jem laughed, shaking his head. "Heavens, no. Shanghai is always buzzing with people. There's about five million more people there than here, or something ridiculous. London feels positively sleepy in comparison."
Will grinned. "Well, would you like someone to show you around our sleepy little town sometime?"
When Jem blushed faintly across his high cheekbones, Will mentally congratulated himself on regaining some of his charm.
"I would love that," he said softly. "Thank you."
"I look forward to it," Will said cheerfully. "Should I just pop by when I have a day off?"
Jem rolled his eyes and took one of Will's hands from where it lay on the counter, turning the palm up and fishing a pen out of the drawer.
"I'd appreciate a touch more warning," he said with a tiny smile. "Just let me know when you've got the day off, and I'll close up here."
Will, feeling ridiculously bold, bent and kissed the elegant fingers still encircling his wrist. "Sounds like a plan. I'll see you later?"
"No book today?"
Will grinned and showed Jem the palm with neat writing on it, smug. "I got what I came for. See you tomorrow, James."
He could almost feel the eye roll directed at his back, and was a bit alarmed at the rush of fondness that accompanied the thought.
He was falling for James Carstairs faster than he'd ever fallen for anyone before, but couldn't bring himself to regret it. This felt like a romance out of a book, hopefully the beginning of one with a happy ending.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Of course there would be ducks on their first date.
They were walking side by side in the park, and the little bastards waddled out of the pond. Soon enough, Will found himself explaining the infamous Duck Incident to Jem, who had given up on not laughing at him and was now attempting to recompose himself.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh, but," he managed, still giggling slightly, "Really? Poultry pies as duck food?"
"Yes," Will said. "For science."
"Right, of course, for science," Jem replied, finally controlling his laughter into nothing but a wry smile.
Seized by a brief moment of madness, Will slid his hand into Jem's and pulled him closer, turning and kissing him. Jem blinked slowly at him when he withdrew, caught off guard.
"I suppose that was for science, too?"
"Of course."
"What sort of scientist are you, then, only running one trial?" Jem said with a grin, pulling Will back by the collar of his shirt and kissing him properly.
As Will kept one hand on his back and the other on his jaw, he felt himself fall a little harder for this man.
It was a first kiss straight out of a storybook, nothing but sweetness and unhurried affection dancing along his nerves. The park melted away from his reality until all that was left was soft skin, lips against his, and hands on his chest. The world seemed to sigh in agreement, and he smiled softly. He'd never dreamed of meeting his someone in a book store, but it looked like that's where his story had really begun.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
It was a habit now for Will to stop by the shop on the way home from work, waiting until Jem was done talking to customers to kiss him hello and talk until either he had to go or Jem closed up shop.
Some days, if the shop wasn't terribly crowded, Jem would play the violin for him and Will could manage to wheedle more information out of him about where he learned to play and how he started.
(Turns out, his parents taught him when he was very small. The conversation had been gently redirected after that.)
This had been an almost daily occurrence for about two and a half months now, combined with dates all over the city. As nice as those days were, there was something very comfortable and domestic about sitting in the cozy bookshop together.
Today, however, Will was greeted by a 'Closed' sign on the door when he stopped by. Perplexed, he looked in through the window.
To his surprise, Jem was inside, looking exhausted and pale. Will tapped on the door with his knuckles, raising an eyebrow when Jem looked up at him. A moment later, the door opened.
"Come in," Jem said, voice a little hoarse. "You'll catch your death out in that rain."
"Is everything alright?"
"Yes." Jem sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No. I don't know."
"What's wrong?" Will sank into one of the chairs by the window, motioning for Jem to join him.
To his disappointment, Jem misinterpreted the gesture and sat in the chair beside him.
"There are... things I haven't told you," Jem said carefully. "Things you deserve to know, especially if this goes any further."
"Okay," Will said slowly. "Like...?" He was terrified of losing Jem. This was the best relationship he'd ever had, and one of the only ones where he hadn't felt trapped in a persona he'd used to flirt. Jem seemed to know him inside and out, and the idea of them stopping in their tracks here stung.
Jem took a deep breath, looking at his hands. "First off, I moved to London almost seven months ago because my home in Shanghai was burned to the ground four years ago and both my parents were killed. No one knows who did it. All the authorities could agree on was that it wasn't an accident. I didn't know if I was safe there any longer, so I left. I drifted for a while, staying where I could. I'm... not proud of those years of my life. Seven months ago, I got a notice that my uncle had died and left the shop to me. I came to London and started over."
Will reached across and took both of Jem's hands, kissing them lightly. "James, I'm so sorry. I understand why you didn't tell me, love, why were you so worried?"
Jem's smile was a wry, humorless one when it came. "Oh, that's not the worst of it. Just before my parents died, I began to get sick. Doctors were baffled, and no combination of medication worked. Some made it worse, but I was managing. But when I was on my own... I couldn't afford to experiment with anything to help me. Those years made whatever the problem was considerably worse."
"Have you been seeing a doctor in London?" Will whispered, lacing his fingers through Jem's and squeezing gently.
"Mmhmm. Aside from a strange but fairly harmless genetic disorder that causes the silvering," he said, gesturing to his hair with their joined hands, "and the expected trauma-related mental health issues, their diagnosis is basically that my lungs don't really work. They said it's similar to the feeling of lung cancer, but normal treatments don't seem to help it." Jem took another deep breath, finally looking up at Will.
"William, I care about you a lot, and I needed you to know before you make any decisions about us. This isn't going to be like one of your books. There isn't any magical cure, and I'm always going to have ghosts that come back to haunt me. I'm not one of your heroes. I am painfully, terribly human," he said softly. "And no amount of love can fix me. You deserved to know."
Silence fell over the room, broken only by rain tapping on the window and a cold wind begging to be let in.
"I'm no hero, either," Will said finally. "And there are ghosts for me too."
Jem squeezed his hands, waiting quietly for him to continue.
"My older sister died when I was young. She was picking me up from school, and we got into a crash. She... Didn't make it. My relationship with my parents wasn't quite the same after that. They never said they blamed me, but for a long time it felt like they sometime saw Ella where I was standing. I left home, left Wales, as soon as I could and started over here. It was a long time before I could even talk to my family without feeling guilty. It made me scared to love anyone, and I left myself get stuck in a version of myself that wasn't true because I was scared to lose someone again."
"And after what I told you, I don't scare you?"
Will brushed his thumb absentmindedly over the back of Jem's hand, grounding himself in the touch. "You make me brave, James Carstairs. And your ghosts don't scare me."
"Neither do yours," Jem replied softly before finding himself pulled unceremoniously into Will's lap.
The day passed in lazy kisses and slow touches and quiet declarations of support and affection while the rain danced on the pavement outside.
Will's heart felt lighter than ever with everything out in the open, and privately he disagreed with Jem- he was a hero. He had to be, to chase away ghosts of his own and still have enough room in his heart to shield Will from his.
"You're thinking too loudly," Jem mumbled. "Shhh."
Will laughed. "Sorry. I was thinking about us. I think you were the beginning of the happiest chapters of my life."
Maybe their story wouldn't match any of the ones on the shelves surrounding them, but it would undoubtedly be one of the great love stories. Despite Jem's insistence to the contrary, he could be the hero of their story, and Will would be his. There was no dramatic first meeting or frantic struggle to survive; there were simply two souls, one bound by music and the other by words, finding solace in each other and coming home in their other half. Their story would be one of steady love, a flame that never wavered under anything and refused to dim or die out. Life had already penciled in an ending for them, somewhere down the road, but plots twist and meander, Will reflected. It might be years before that, and Will planned to enjoy each day, each page of their story, as though it could be the end.
As Jem kissed him and his soul rang with the sense of completion, he was pulled back to their beginning and the one he loved.