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From the moment Will woke up that morning, he knew that it was not going to be a good day. He coughed a lot more than usual and it took a long time of laying completely still in bed to be able to catch his breath. He also threw up once or twice while he was coughing, which just made the coughing worse. Plus, to top it all off, every breath he took caused sharp pain to shoot through his lungs.
There was no way he was going to be able to go on a hunt with Jem.
As soon as Will finally caught his breath, he sat up and immediately started coughing again. He spent the next few minutes trying to cough up whatever he could, and once there was another clump of mucus in the bowl, he was left sitting hunched over and gasping for breath with his hands clenched on the rim of the bowl. As much as he wanted to be able to breathe, it felt like he was being stabbed in the lungs every time he took a breath, no matter how small it was. He had had the same pain a few times before, but he always forgot how much it hurt.
The first time he’d felt this way, he had been five years old and he’d thought he was dying. His mother had found him lying in bed sobbing and she and his father had taken turns carrying him around all day. When he’d woken up the next day, he’d been surprised and relieved that he was still alive. The next time it happened, he hadn’t been as scared. It was still concerning because he didn’t know why it happened, but at least he knew he probably wouldn’t die. At least not immediately.
Will waited to stand up until he caught his breath for the second time, and when he did stand, he did so very, very slowly and carefully. Moving too fast would make him out of breath again, and being out of breath would mean having to breathe harder, which would make his lungs hurt more. It was going to be a very slow-moving day for him.
Jem hadn’t come in to do his physical therapy yet, but it was already 8:00 and he really wasn’t feeling up to it today anyway. Will got dressed and cleaned himself up from the earlier coughing and vomiting. He wasn’t really hungry, but Jem would know something was wrong if he didn’t show up for breakfast.
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Jem already knew something was wrong. He had heard Will coughing from his room, and he had heard him throw up. He had also heard Will struggling to breathe normally after each coughing fit. It wasn’t so concerning that he had to rush into Will’s room, but he could tell that Will was in pain.
He had only seen something like this once before. They had spent all day going after demons, and Will had paid the price the next day. Jem had spent most of that day in Will’s room, trying to help him as much as he could while also dealing with his own illness.
It was clear from the way Will sounded that he was not in any condition to do his therapy. Jem knew that Will was never going to say anything to him about how he was feeling, so he decided to just not mention anything.
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As soon as Will got to the dining room, he could feel Jem staring at him. He carefully avoided making eye contact with Jem as he got his food and sat down. Charlotte noticed this interaction and was looking between them, trying to figure out what was going on. Will wasn’t going to say anything to either of them, but he knew they were already suspicious because it had taken him so long to get down to breakfast. He had walked at a fourth of his usual walking speed because of the two imaginary knives in his lungs.
“So,” Charlotte said as soon as he was sitting, “when are you two leaving?”
Will was about to answer when he heard Jem say, “Actually, I was thinking we could go another day.”
“Why?” Charlotte asked.
Jem shrugged. “No specific reason. I just don’t really want to do it today.”
Will tried to look disappointed, but he was secretly relieved. He knew he wouldn’t have made it if they had actually gone on the hunt, but he wouldn’t have told Jem until the last possible second. A sudden vision flashed through his mind of him collapsing in pain with a demon standing over him, about to kill him.
Will pushed the picture out of his mind looked down at his plate. He’d only eaten a few bites of his eggs, and all of the other food on the plate looked extremely unappetizing. On any other day, he would have scarfed it down in seconds, but not today. He knew that if he ate more, he would probably throw up again.
Will left his plate where it was and stood up. “Well, if we’re not going on a hunt today, then I’ll be in my room.”
“But you’ve barely eaten!” Charlotte exclaimed.
“Don’t really need the energy I’ll get from it now that we won’t be going after any demons,” he said, and slammed the door behind him.
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“Is he alright?” Charlotte asked as soon as Will was out of the room.
“I don’t think so,” Jem answered. “Remember that day a few years ago when he said that it felt like someone was stabbing him in the lungs every time he breathed in? I think he’s feeling the same way today.”
Charlotte nodded, looking towards the door Will had just gone through. “Is that why you said you weren’t going on the hunt today?”
“I know he’d never admit it, so I had to take matters into my own hands. If he had gone out today, he either would have gotten himself killed or would be paying for it for the next few days.”
“He’ll be fine tomorrow, though, right?” Charlotte asked.
“Hopefully,” Jem said. He wished that he could be more sure, but nothing was ever sure when it came to Will’s illness. “I’ll give him half an hour, and then I’ll go check on him.”
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Will was regretting his decision to go back to his room. The stairs had been fine on the way down, but going back up them was a completely different experience. Even with the extremely slow pace he took, he spent a few minutes at the top of the stairs hunched over with his hand pressed to his chest. He could understand why he thought he was dying when he was five years old, because it certainly felt that way.
Will finally got himself to his room and immediately locked the door. He didn’t need Jem walking in and seeing how much pain he was in. Jem could not know anything about this, so he needed to act completely normal and not lock himself in his room all day. Jem would certainly be suspicious if he did that.
Will grabbed the back of the chair at his desk and leaned over, trying to take the deepest breaths he could. He hated his stupid lungs for not doing their stupid job right, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. All he could do was live his life when they let him and deal with it when things like this happened. He stayed in that position for a few minutes, then slowly straightened up and went over to his bed. He had already rinsed out the bowl from that morning so Sophie wouldn’t see the vomit in it and go running to Charlotte, so he picked it up and pulled a blanket off of his bed. He was going to go to the library and pretend like nothing was wrong. If Jem came in, he could hide the bowl under the armchair and pretend that he brought the blanket because the library was too cold.
Will left his room and stopped at the top of the stairs. He would have to come back up them when he was done in the library, and he contemplated for a second if he wanted to go through that again. He came to the decision that Jem was bound to find out something was wrong if he didn’t go to the library, and he carefully made his way down.
When he made it to the library, Will pulled the blanket around himself and sat down carefully in his favorite armchair and curled up as much as he could. He usually threw himself down in it, which always resulted in coughing, but he was very careful to not do that this time. He kept the bowl in his lap instead of putting it the floor because as much as he really did not want to cough, he could tell that he would be doing it in a few minutes.
And he was right. A few minutes later, Will tried to inhale and started coughing. With every cough, it felt like the stabbing pain in his lungs was amplified from one imaginary knife to ten. By the time he was done coughing, he was curled up with the fingers of one hand digging into his chest and the other hand clenched tightly on the arm of the chair. His eyes were closed tightly and he could feel tears running down his cheeks. He was tempted to open them and see if there were actually knives sticking out of his chest, but he knew there wouldn’t be.
Will leaned back and pulled the blanket tighter around himself with the sore hand that had left indents in the armrest. He kept the other one on his chest because the coughing had made the pain a hundred times worse and it felt like his lungs were going to shatter into little pieces if he let go. He could feel himself shaking from the pain. It just hurt so badly and even though he knew that it wasn’t going to kill him, he was still scared. For a second, he wished his mother was there with her hugs and her chicken broth every time he wasn’t feeling well, but he quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. He had given up his family to come to the Institute and he could never see them again.
Will quickly opened his eyes to make sure nobody had seen what he had just gone through, then shut them again. He pressed his free hand to his eyes and, because of the pain and the fear and the homesickness, cried for the first time in years.
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Jem finished his breakfast and brought his dished to the kitchen despite being told multiple times that it was not necessary. He would have gone straight back to his room after that, but he still had a few minutes until when he said he would check on Will and he didn’t want to disturb him too much. To pass the time, he helped Agatha and Sophie with the dishes, much to their dismay.
After drying a few dishes, Jem looked up at the clock on the wall of the kitchen to see that it had been about half an hour since Will’s abrupt departure from the dining room. He folded the towel he had been using and excused himself, then went on his way to Will’s room.
To get to Will’s room, however, he had to pass the library first. The doors were closed and he assumed there was nobody inside, but as he walked by, he heard a very strange noise and stopped. It almost sounded like somebody crying, but he couldn’t think of anyone who would be crying in the library, unless someone was reading an extremely sad book.
Will had said that he would be in his room, but there was always the possibility that he had decided to go to the library instead. If that was the case and Will was the one he could hear crying, then Jem needed to do something quickly. No parabatai of his was going to cry and be in pain alone.
Jem quickly turned around and went back to the kitchen he had just left. When he got there, Sophie and Agatha were gone, so he slipped inside and closed the door behind him. Agatha would come after him with a wooden spoon if she saw what he planned on doing.
On the table in the middle of the kitchen was a chocolate cake that Agatha had been putting the finishing touches on while they were eating breakfast. Jem liked chocolate cake, but he knew that there was someone else in the Institute who would do anything for it. He found a clean plate and a knife, then cut a slice and found a fork. If he was lucky, Agatha would assume that Will was the one who took a slice and leave Jem alone.
Jem peeked his head out quickly to make sure that Agatha wasn’t coming, then left the kitchen as walked as quickly as he could without dropping his precious cargo back to the library. He decided not to knock or anything and just pushed the door open, hoping to give Will no way to deny that he had been crying.
As soon as the door opened, Jem heard a loud sniff coming from Will’s favorite armchair and saw the back move slightly as Will presumably sat up. He didn’t see any tears on Will’s face as he came around to face him, but his eyes were red and there was a wet spot on the back of his hand from where he had recently wiped them away.
“What do you want?” Will asked Jem. He certainly sounded like he’d been crying, and his hand kept drifting from its spot in his lap towards his chest.
“Here you go,” Jem said, holding out the plate and the fork.
Will stared up at Jem in confusion, but he took the plate and fork anyway. “Why are you giving me this?”
Jem shrugged and sat down in the chair next to Will’s. “My mother always said that cake is the best medicine.”
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An hour later, Charlotte finished with some paperwork she had been doing in her study and decided to go check on her boys. She hadn’t heard anyone screaming her name or seen Jem burst into her office in a panic, so she assumed everything was fine, but it didn’t hurt to check.
She checked Jem’s room first. He wasn’t in there and his violin was in its place on the dresser, so there was no point in checking the music room. Will’s room was empty too, but the bowl that he used for mucus was gone, along with a blanket from his bed. She thought to check the training room for a second, but then she remembered how much pain Will had been in the last time this happened and concluded that there was no way they could be in there.
Charlotte had left Will’s room and was running out of places that she could imagine them being when she passed the library. The door was slightly ajar and she mentally slapped herself for not thinking of it earlier. She gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Will’s favorite armchair and the one next to it were facing away from her, but she could see Jem’s legs from where she was standing, so she knew they were there. She quietly walked over to the two chairs and went around them so she could see their occupants, then immediately wished she had a camera.
Will was curled up in his chair with the missing blanket from his bed wrapped around him, and he was fast asleep. The bowl from his room was on the floor next to his chair. She could tell by his face that he was in pain, but he looked otherwise peaceful. Jem was sitting in the chair next to him with a book in his hands. When he saw her, he put a finger to his lips to signal for her to be quiet. She nodded and turned to leave, deciding to come in and get them when dinner was served.
Just before she left, however, she frowned and turned around. She thought she had imagined it for a second but that thought went away as soon as she looked at the side table in between the two chairs.
Sitting on the table was a single white plate and a fork with the remnants of a slice of chocolate cake smeared on both.