Another good thing for the night: All of the beds in the Institute except the ones at the Infirmary is capable of holding three people with so much more space to crawl on.
The iratze is finally done healing Will's cut, which now feels as if nothing had touched him. It left a small faint scar that ran down his arm, though. He could remember the pain he felt when Tessa tried a sort - of first aid spell on him, which drained most of her energy. Apparently, this was the first time she did it. For him. The thought made him smile - and partly guilty, for he can also remember Tessa's paled face after the session. The ritual took amounts of energy from her.
And now all the kinds of pain he felt awhile ago were gone, and the iratze restored some of his energy,he can never bring himself again to sleep. Instead of doing something more stupid, he tried to recall the events from the subway.
The gang got him just in time before another claw is about to get him that is aimed at his neck. Clary Fairchild kneeled onto him, pulled her stele out, but Jace caught her wrist, telling her she should not give Will iratzes but pain killers. Clary drew another one - one of the runes from the Gray Book, she told him and he felt numb for a short period of time. The pain returned when they were out of the subway, after Alec shot an exploding arrow with a destruction rune on its tip to the cavern, sending the whole place shaking. He heard the mundanes guessing it's from a freak earthquake as they go.
Not a bad guess. At least it was really really far from the truth. It was Clary's idea to create the explosion by creating another sort of destruction rune that can be drawn on projectiles.
Will was impressed to the talent of the Fairchild. How she can create runes out of nothing, he doesn't know, but nevertheless, it was a very handy, very useful talent.
The Fairchild bloodline is the bloodline of the talented.
Henry and his inventions.
Will also overheard one time that Clary's mother is an excellent painter, both from Magnus and from Jace.
Quite a great bloodline. Will mused. But the Herondales are better.
Tessa stirred to his direction, which made him freeze. Her cold hand rested on his chest, and she snuggled on the crook of his neck. Her warm breath tickles his now sensitive skin on his neck, sending shivers on his back. Will then pulled out his arm out of Tessa's weight. She gained weight, huh? He rested his now free arm to his chest just next to Tessa.
Tessa nudged at him closer and stilled, as if she is having a nightmare. Will half-wanted to shake Tessa to her consciousness, but Tessa's mouth stopped his thinking.
It was barely a whisper, but he had heard Tessa say it enough times in her sleep back then. But she mouthed a name that is also familiar to him.
I love you, Jem.
The mentioning of Jem's name shattered his fragile heart. Not only because the words were not directly at him, but also because that reminded him painfully that he does not belong here. He belongs in the Victorian England. Not modern day New Yorkshire.
He does not belong in this bed.
Will didn't hesitate jumping off his bed as silent as he can. He quickly glanced at the couple, sleeping peacefully on the massive bed. It's good for him that his cat-like grace never left him.
Oh well, talents never die.
Will left the door slightly opened, not risking to create even the faintest sound.
The corridor feels cold. Will wished he wore something thicker. Just when he is about to turn the knob to his room, he paused, remembering that he can't sleep. After a few moments of inner debate, Will finally decided he would sneak on the kitchen in the middle of the night - or was it dusk? It didn't matter.
He was half-way done navigating his way to the dark corridors of the Institute when he heard someone playing a soft, melancholic tune. The glass of milk could wait later. His curiosity can't.
Jace' concentration on the piece broke when he sensed that someone sneaked on the multi-purpose room. His head snapped instinctively to the door, seeing an astonished-looking Herondale.
Awkward silence hung in the air. Will then instantly said something to make him look like he really wants to go here. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" He managed to say it sternly.
Jace glared at him. Sure, this man is related to him by blood, but he should not act as if he is from him. "Can't sleep." He said coldly.
Will can't help but grin. The Herondales are known for their cold statements, after all. "What's the piece?" He jerked his head at the sleek black piano.
Jace frowned. So the piano-playing skill is also from him?! "I do not know what the title of the piece is, but it's Bach."
It took Will a moment to realize Bach is the name of the original composer.
It was Jace's turn to smirk at him. "Let me guess..." Will's facial reaction alone tells it all. "You were trying to sneak on the kitchen?"
"I might want a glass of milk." If Will feels like a cornered rat, he didn't showed it. He said it with a very steady tone, as if he is always sneaking every night on the kitchen - which is true. "I can't sleep."
Jace took something from the piano, then showed it to Will. "Here. You can have mine."
The quote, "Do not accept anything from strangers" rings back to his mind. Sure, this man was from his bloodline, but he feels like a total stranger to him. He looked at him skeptically, which made Jace roll his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh.
"C'mon." Jace lazily pushed. "Take it. I haven't drunk a single gulp."
Will hesitantly approached him. He reluctantly reached for the glass with an equally hesitant arm.
"I didn't poisoned it." Jace grumbled. Will shook his head in protest and withdrew his arm. "What about you?"
"I can always sneak on the kitchen anytime I want." Jace quietly said. "Take it."
Will reluctantly took the glass of milk from Jace. He then took a sip while frowning at the cold-eyed golden boy in front of him. Mm. Cow's milk. His favorite.
"Thanks." Will said. Jace just shrugged it off and side-tracked the topic. "Do you play?"
Will snorted. "I can, but I do not want." Even if Jem really insisted that his long fingers are suitable for a piano player.Tessa pushed him too. As far as he could remember, he recalled playing two happy-birthdays and a random piece when Tessa asked him to play.
Jace then remembered her heart-to-heart discussion with Clary a few hours ago. She demanded if he really hates Will. He said it at once because, well, she's Clary. You can't hide anything away from her - even for a short amount of time.
"I knew it." There was cheerfulness in her voice, as if her biggest theories were confirmed. "Jace, This incident is a shock for the both of you. But please do not be hard to Mr. Herondale. He's been through many worse things already."
Jace saw light on those words - even if he didn't like the tone Clary used to mention pops. The way he threw those knives and the way he screamed out of pure agony would not be done for nothing. And he could also see the way pops look at gran - the same way he looks at Clary, except it was added with pain, despair, agony, longing, and so many more negative feelings. He never treated Carstairs like a love rival. Jace saw anything but anger and grudge at those orbs.
The same feelings he was seeing to him now.
Jace himself warned that letting Will sleep beside Jem and Tessa is dangerous. When Isabelle and Jem asked why, well, obviously he lied, except that lie turned out to be more of a joke. A corny joke. One hundred people can sleep on a king-sized bed with a mahogany frame and the floorboards would not even creak. But the truth is, he kind of sees how painful it is for old man already, knowing that he does not belong. Staying on a bed with them would be a salt to his wounds.
Will frowned innocently at him, obviously getting that he is staring. Deep down, Jace knew it was a mask. A mask made to cover one's true face. He even wore some one time.
After a few pushings, Clary finally convinced Jace to talk to his Grandpa. He bit her lower lip, whispered "Good night" at it, then went for his bed.
"I don't hate you, okay?" Jace said quite harshly, but it only made Will's frown go higher.
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't hate you." Jace repeated. "Well, maybe i would if you would declare you're the most beautiful guy in this planet -"
"I am." Will quietly snapped.
Jace irritatingly shook his head. "Point is," Jace heaved a sigh and went on. "This time-travel incident was a shock for the both of us. I do not blame you for this incident, don't worry. It's just that, meeting one's ancestor does not occur everyday."
Will could only stare.
"I do not hate you." Jace repeated.
Will smirked. "You should really get some sleep."
Great. Now he thinks I'm a hallucinating freak.
Jace grunted and raised his hands in exasperation. He didn't said a word to Will when he get out of the room, though he could feel his intense gaze piercing his back.
Thump. Will is alone again. He remembered reading about music being a therapeutic way to let negative emotions out. Will then frowned at the piano. He never even tried playing the thing, though he could remember his father giving him a few lessons. He also played a few times occasionaly. Jem himself said he has a potential.
This alien feeling in his chest feels more uncomfortable as time passes by. He wanted this feelings out.
Reluctantly, Will sat on the piano stool and opened the piano cover. He frowned at the notes, then instinctively pressed a random note. A very deep, very melancholic note echoed on the walls of this room. Will nodded, satisfied with his instinct. He then rested his hands, stretched his fingers, then began playing, a single note freeing a single tear out of his eyes.