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Chapter Text

Tessa would hesitate to admit it, but she loved the opportunity to dress up. Twenty first century clothes were nice. They were mobile and flexible and less time consuming. If something was loose, it wasn’t unfashionable. If something was tight, it was made to be so. But Tessa Herondale Carstairs enjoyed a nice dress. She enjoyed the opportunity to wear one as well. So when Jem was promoted from second chair to first chair on the opening night of Swan Lake, Tessa saw her opportunity.

Immortality could rob many things from a person. It took things out of fashion. Tessa’s wardrobe was mostly in storage now. There was never a time to wear most of her old things now. Not her wedding dress, not the dress she wore to visit Magnus in July of 1937. Some things were put away not because of their fall from fashion but because of the memories associated with them. Time could take away language and expressions and jokes. Knowledge that once was so important. The names of newspapers that went out of print. Cities that didn’t exist anymore for one reason or another. She remembered what the Parisian skyline looked like before the Eiffel Tower. She remembered how much people hated it at the time of its construction. Time could take people. It would continue to take people.

Tessa knew there would be a time when she would look back on her moments with her dear, newly mortal Jem. She would recall this night in a different light. It would be colored pink by rose-tinted glasses. It would hurt. She would wish she spent every waking moment beside Jem because he wouldn’t be there at some point. She had to soak it up. So Tessa was determined to enjoy the night for what it was: a chance to see her husband shine in his element. They weren’t going to stay in this city long, but the opportunity presented itself. Tessa wanted to be a touch selfish and hoard Jem’s talent with the violin for herself. It felt so personal. She heard him playing before she ever heard him speak. She spent half a century with his dear violin in a place of honor. A Giuseppe Guarneri. She watched it become an antique, something worth an unfathomable amount of money. When Jem expressed interest in the opportunity to play as a member of an orchestra, she encouraged him. She brushed off the sense that other people would get to see that secret side of Jem. It wasn’t true. They didn’t remember what she remembered. They wouldn’t take violin classes in their lonely years like she had. They wouldn’t even see him on stage. But they would hear him. And Jem was excited.

It was Swan Lake. There were ensemble pieces, pieces that focused on the string section. There was a moment in Act Three that gave Jem a soul splitting solo. It lasted three minutes and every time Tessa listened to it, she nearly went mad. Orchestra members were required to wear black clothes. It didn’t really matter if they wore sweatpants or formal wear as long as the audience wasn’t distracted. Jem took this as an opportunity to wear a tuxedo and coattails. He even bought cufflinks for the occasion.

“Oh, my good sir,” Tessa had feigned, bowing for him. She fanned herself with one hand. “Excuse me, I’m just looking for my husband. Have you seen him?”

“Your husband?” Jem had played along, straightening his tie. “What does the lucky man look like?”

Tessa moved forward, helping him straighten his collar. “Oh, he’s terribly attractive. I can’t be seen in public with him.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“He’s out of my league. He married me out of poor judgement and now, women flirt with him wherever he goes.” Tessa pretended to sigh. Jem caught her up in his arms, pressing her back against his chest. He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Your husband sounds terrible. He doesn’t deserve you,” Jem said, kissing Tessa on the ear. She started to laugh.

“Sir! She laughed louder, pretending to push Jem away. “Sir, I’m married!”

“Just one kiss! I swear, just one kiss. He doesn’t have to know!”

“I’m a married woman!” Tessa tried to say, falling into a giggling fit.

Tessa smiled, remembering the moment. She agreed to meet Jem after the performance and splurge on a fancy restaurant for dinner. He left early in the afternoon.

Tessa took an older dress out of storage in honor of the night. It was a gauzy gray dress from the 1970s. It was airy and covered in embroidered plant life. The skirt reached to the floor and the transparent sleeves tapered above her wrists. As Tessa removed the dress from its place in storage, a suit jacket fell from its hanger and to the floor. She bent to pick it up and realized, with a small shock, that it had belonged to Will.

It was one of his dinner jackets. One that he wore in their London home on evenings where they entertained guests. It was bluish black. There was silk on the inside lining, sewn into the canvas in the shape of runes. It had been a gift.

The find shocked her. The jacket shouldn’t have been in this collection. She was usually so organized about these things. Will’s things were kept safe. In one place. She hadn’t thought about this jacket in years. And she didn’t think as she brought the jacket to her nose and smelled it.

And she sat down on the floor suddenly, still clutching the jacket. It smelled like him. It was a cologne she’d given him, a scent named after one of the European royals. It was a unique smell, nothing like perfumes of the modern age. Nothing so easy to name as a flower or season or spice. It was special and unique and earth shattering. It was like seeing Will’s face again. She remembered a silly argument they had about James. She remembered forcing Will to sew the rips in the jacket, teaching him how to sew it properly.

“What if I bribed you,” Will asked, holding the torn jacket. “I could read to you. You like it when I read to you. You could choose the book.”

“Tessa, dearest, I’m going to ruin this jacket if you let me do this on my own.”

“We’ve discussed my dizzying memory, Tessa. Should we discuss your ludicrous lack of memory? You left them on your dresser. Of course, I would remember that. They’re your favorite; I keep track.”

Tessa sat on the floor with the jacket for a moment too long. She remembered. The ballet. She needed to dress. She had to buy a bouquet of roses to present to Jem. She needed to do her hair and makeup and there were a million things to do and she couldn’t just sit here with Will’s old jacket. She stumbled up from the floor, gently placing the jacket on the bed. And she kept moving.

“You seem distracted,” Magnus noted at Intermission. Tessa barely hear him over the music they programmed to hold them over the fifteen-minute break. The curtains rustled as the dancers and technicians did secret things on stage. He glanced up from the program in his hands. “Did I tell you that I saw this when it first premiered?”

“In 1877?” Tessa spoke up, competing with the instrumental “classics” they piped in through the loudspeakers. She barely heard herself speak over the music.

“Yes,” Magnus nodded. “The Bolshoi Ballet. It was stunning.”

“I know you better than to believe that, Magnus. If memory serves, you were busy in the 1870s.”

“We didn’t meet until 1878, dear.”

“Why do you enjoy lying to me, someone who can call you on your lies, when you could be impressing that young Shadowhunter you’re so fond of? Alex, right?”

“You know his name is Alec, Tessa,” Magnus folded the program and hit her lightly on the knee. She tried to suppress a smile. She did know Alec’s name. It was delightful to see Magnus so flustered. For all his words of wisdom and nihilistic regard for romance, Magnus was as lost as she. “And I would never lie to him. Besides, it’s more of a challenge to lie to you. Your memory is like a snare. You probably remember the outfit I’m wearing.”

“Yes, you wore it while we were living in Singapore.”

“Ah, what a time that was. We’ll have to do that again someday.” Magnus said absentmindedly. He froze with his eyes on the program for a moment. Again someday. When they weren’t anchored down. When nothing kept them otherwise engaged. Nothing and no one. “You know what I mean,” Magnus tried to clarify. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Tessa smiled.

“No time soon,” Magnus said.

“Right.”

“Your husband isn’t listed on the program,” Magnus noted, clearing his throat. He held up the program for reference, finger pointed to the page dedicated to the String members of the Orchestra. “It says first chair belongs to Sydney O’Bannion. Are you sure you didn’t take me to a random ballet for the sake of an old friendship, Tessa, because if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have just said so.”

“It’s a long story. Jem said that Sy—“

Tessa stopped speaking. An odd sensation came over her and she glared at the stage for a moment. She felt her mood drop suddenly, though she couldn’t identify why. It was like waking up from a dream and forgetting the dream immediately. She felt nervous and sad and terrible in a split second.

“Tessa?”

She lifted her head, focusing on the loudspeakers, which were now playing an instrumental piece divided into various string instruments. She knew this song. She had known this song longer than any friend she still kept. She knew this song before she knew Magnus, before she knew Jem. The lyrics and inflection changed over time, but they came to her as smooth as air.

Alas, my love, you do me wrong

To cast me off discourteously

For I have love-ed you so long

Delighting in your company.

Tessa froze in her seat. She felt her eyes go unfocused, though she couldn’t bring herself to focus again. She was shocked back into her own body, terribly aware of her lungs and her heart and the roar in her ears. She felt the rush of adrenaline pour into her stomach, into her blood, as if she was anticipating something. Tessa bunched her hands into her skirt as she began to sweat. It felt like Christmas for a moment. It was cold but sweet, dark but colorful. She remembered the feel of snowflakes on her skin. She’d dropped her wrap in the snow—

“Tessa?” Magnus touched her elbow gently.

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves my heart of gold—

Tessa raised a hand to her mouth, feeling the tide of emotions run over her. Greensleeves was less popular as time went on. New music was always the fashion. There were hundreds of songs in Tessa’s memory that died at the feet of Time. Empires fell. People fell. Music fell. But never Greensleeves. Greensleeves was an old friend. In this moment, Tessa wanted the song to disappear from memory. Musicians should abandon it forever. The notes should be forgotten. Even one hundred and forty years later, that song reminded her of one night. A night near Christmas. A snowy night in London. And Will Herondale proposing to her in the cold. She remembered how he pressed her hand to his forehead, like someone asking for forgiveness. How she’d turned her hand to hold his cheek. The expression on his face when she agreed to marry him… On her bad days, Tessa couldn’t remember Will’s eyes. But on her worst, she remembered them perfectly.

Now, it was as if he were standing in front of her again.

“Tessa, are you alright?” Magnus took both of her shoulders in his hands.

“No,” Tessa choked. “I—I feel horrible. Excuse me, Magnus, I—I need to stand for a moment. Don’t worry. Just a moment to myself away from thi-this music.” Tears began to pour over Tessa’s face. She felt the embarrassment, just distantly. The embarrassment at being brought so low so fast. A flood of memories came unbidden to her. Will pulling the pins from her hair on the Lightwood balcony. Will holding Lucie as a baby, insisting that she preferred Welsh lullabies. Will tracing the scar on her palm with a finger, tracing the burn she inflicted on herself. Will stopping on their walk to wait for the evening star to appear.

Tessa threw herself into the first empty room she could find away from the theatre house. It was a spacious bathroom with a tall ceiling. Across one wall, a mural of a Spanish couple in the midst of a dance stretched across the plaster. Each had their head thrown back in laughter. They were pressed close enough that the lady’s skirt wrapped around one side of the man’s legs. The mural did nothing but make Tessa feel worse.

She went to stand in front of one of the sinks, wrapping her manicured hands around the edges. She hung her head for a moment and tried to breathe.

But nothing could center her.

It was a long time ago.

You’ve healed.

You’ve grown.

You’re not mourning anymore.

You’re happy to have had the time with him that you did.

Nothing made a dent in the sadness, in her thoughts. One thought tumbled into the other and only made Tessa worse. She was overcome with terrible wishes. She wanted to go back. She wanted to warn herself, to hold her younger self close and tell her all the horrible things that would happen. If she had some warning, maybe it would have been easier. Maybe she could tell herself it would get better. Even from the beginning. She would tell herself that the Dark Sisters would disappear. That Will only acted a heathen in an attempt to spare the people he loved most. That Jem wouldn’t die. At least, Jem wouldn’t die as soon as she suspected. She would have been more attentive. She would have held Will tighter while she still had him.

He should be here. He deserved to see this, to see his parabati play violin for an audience of thousands. Will was robbed and dead and Tessa forgot his face and it wasn’t fair.

Tessa raised her head and glanced at her reflection.

Reddish brown hair. Gray eyes. Face swollen from crying. Her makeup was smeared across her eyes.

But a thought crossed Tessa’s mind. And when the bathroom speakers began to play the opening to Act III, Tessa didn’t even notice until it was too late.

-Three Hours Later-

Jem sensed something was wrong when Tessa didn’t meet him after the performance. He waited by stage door, bundled in his winter coat and hat. They had agreed to meet here after the performance. Jem waited patiently, violin case in hand, for word from Tessa. He expected her to pull up in a taxi. Or to run and hug him, detailing the woes of crowds and lines. Or perhaps she was backstage, looking for him there. When it finally occurred to him to check his phone, there was a text from Tessa.

You stole the show, darling. I ran home. See you there.

He wrote back: Did you want to get dinner? Some of the orchestra is going out to celebrate.

After a few minutes, Tessa responded. You go. I don’t feel well.

And of course, that wouldn’t do. As Jem called a taxi, he ruminated about the situation. It wasn’t even a misfortune in his mind that Tessa didn’t feel well. Of course, he would prefer her in perfect health at all times. But this only gave him the opportunity to take care of her. To make her feel a small percent better. He got to spend time with her.

There were many times Jem looked back on the last century and lamented the lost moments he could have had with Tessa. A century had its fair share of turmoil. Silent Brothers could care, but Jem knew it wasn’t enough. When Tessa stayed with Woolsey Scott and Magnus and Catarina Loss in the 1930s, it should have been him. He knew her so well. He could have made a difference then.

But he could make up for lost times now. Tessa wouldn’t suffer a papercut without him there.

Jem only made a small detour to retrieve a box of pastries and a box of Tessa’s favorite tea. He didn’t need a grand dinner. He didn’t need the extra company. Jem arrived in their apartment on the eastern side of the city at midnight, careful to remain quiet in case Tessa had a headache. She never said if it was a matter of nausea or fatigue or some other affliction. Best to be on guard for the worst of it. He closed the front door gently, setting the gifts on their couch. The lights in the house were all out.

Was Tessa even home yet?

Before Jem could double check his phone, he heard a man’s voice whisper across the apartment. His eyes trained on the bathroom door and the shadow moving underneath it. Magnus wouldn’t be here, would he? Or worse, did someone follow Tessa home? The baritone whispering continued, and Jem grew worried. He took a hardwood walking stick from the doorside and began to approach the bathroom door. He listened briefly, but the whisperings were too quiet to make out a sentence.

Quickly, Jem swung the bathroom door open, brandishing the cane.

And Will Herondale, sat cross-legged on the bathroom counter, turned away from his reflection in shock.

“Jem,” he said.

Jem dropped the cane as his legs gave out from beneath him.

Chapter Text

It was as Jem remembered him best: a seventeen-year-old boy with dark curls and bright eyes. He looked like he often did after a night walking around London. As if he was still wearing the night mist around his shoulders. He was dressed in a white undershirt and black slacks. Suspenders were over his shoulders. Jem spied his parabati rune, unfaded, between the sides of his shirt. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. His cheeks were stained with tears. Will looked at him with the same level of pure shock, nearly falling off the bathroom counter in a mad scramble to get his feet underneath him.

“I thought you wouldn’t be home so early,” Will said, one bare foot catching on the sink. He fumbled off the side of the counter and slipped to the floor. He landed hard on the hardwood floor with a loud thump. “Jem, I’m so sorry.”

“Will,” Jem stuttered. “Will, is that you?”

But Will scrubbed his hands over his face. And his hair grew longer. It was like a mirage on a hot day; Jem’s eyes couldn’t track it as it happened. Will’s form deflated ever so slightly, like his clothes were suddenly too big for him. His hands, thin now, lowered from his face, revealing Tessa.

“Jem, I’m so sorry,” Tessa said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Jem didn’t respond.

It was the Change. It wasn’t Will. It was the Change.

“I found Will’s coat earlier today,” Tessa tried to explain, adjusting the shirt to button up higher. Tessa rarely wore clothes as masculine as the ones she had on, and it occurred to Jem that she must have taken them from Will’s old things. He remembered the first time she wore something like this, the night her brother died. He remembered stumbling into the room and immediately stumbling out. “And then I went to your show. And, you have to understand, he would have loved to be there. You know he would have. It would have killed him to know he couldn’t see you like that. And that doesn’t excuse this; I shouldn’t have Changed. I didn’t mean for you to see this. I just wanted to—“

“See him again?”

Tessa swallowed hard and nodded solemnly.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Jem said, smiling shakily as he pressed his back against the doorway. “I thought you were Will. Truly. You even sounded like him.”

Tessa lifted a hand, as if she were about to make a joke, but she failed to do so. She wiped at the tears again and fussed with the jacket. “I’m sorry. Again. These clothes were supposed to be in storage. I’m usually better than this. I’ll go put it all in a box.”

Tessa reached one hand to the bathroom counter and began to pull herself up from the floor. Jem stretched out a hand. “Stop.”

Tessa sat down. “What?”

“Don’t get up,” he said.

“I need to change cl—“

“You don’t,” Jem said quietly.

“I don’t?”

“You don’t.”

Silence stretched between them. Under any other circumstances, Jem would’ve found it funny that they were so dazed and speechless on the bathroom floor. But under these circumstances, he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The wave of shock was rolling into a different tide. He wanted to say things. His body was still reacting as if Will were in the room. As if he got to see his parabati, his best friend, the man that made sad songs even more sad.

Tessa cleared her throat roughly and focused her eyes on the bathmat. “Do you… want to talk to him?”

“Do I—“

“It won’t be real,” Tessa said. “It’s not the same as actually having him h—“

“Yes.” Jem interrupted, moving closer to Tessa. “Absolutely. That is, if you don’t mind. If you mind, we won’t do it. I’ll forget this ever happened. You don’t have to Change for me you don’t want to.”

“You want to talk to him,” Tessa stated.

“Very much.”

“I can’t blame you,” Tessa said. “That’s what I was doing before you came in.”

Jem glanced up at the mirror above the bathroom counter.

“What did you discuss? With Will?”

Tessa smiled weakly. “All things considered, dear, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Tessa straightened her back, running her hands through her hair, pushing it back until the brown curls gave way to short, black hair. She rubbed her eyes gently, letting them change shape beneath her fingers. Her chin changed shape, and her hands grew more pronounced. Harsher knuckles. Marked skin. Runes peaked out of fabric. On the skin of her hands. On the skin of her neck. Until it wasn’t Tessa anymore.

Jem stared for a long moment, breathing gently in the quiet bathroom.

“Hello, Jem,” Will tested.

Jem swallowed hard, pushing down the rush of emotion. It was like receiving an old self. No one saw him so well as Will, and when Will died, it was like a version of Jem died too. It was like regrowing vessels around his heart. Like breathing pure air again. Jem inhaled terribly, trying to ward off tears. If he started crying now, he wouldn’t get anywhere. But it was Will. It was Will. Even if it wasn’t actually Will, it was Will. It was his voice. No voice sounded like that.

“You’re well dressed,” his parabati noted.

“So are you,” Jem managed.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve caught up,” Will said, straightening the lapels of his jacket. “You wouldn’t happen to have some tea, would you? Unless, of course, you prefer to keep this on the bathroom floor.”

“Of course,” Jem said, leaping to his feet. “Tea. We have tea.”

Jem wandered through the apartment like a ghost, touching walls to make sure they still existed. He heard Will walking behind him. In Jem’s mind, he knew that it was really his wife. It was Tessa playing a part. She was stopping to look at pictures she had already seen. She was analyzing an apartment that she helped create. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt like welcoming Will into a reality. It was like meeting again.

“How is Tessa?”

Jem fished a box of tea from the cabinet and selected a couple of bags. “Tessa is well. Alive and well. She…mentioned that you spoke. Together. Before I came home. I’m sorry, Tessa. I know you don’t know him like this. If it hurts too much, tell me. You don’t have to act like him. I won’t make you play at this.”

“Tessa isn’t here,” Will said. “She’s stepped away.”

Jem tried to give him a serious look, but doubt clouded the expression.

“We’re alright,” Will continued. “Changing gives you a little access into someone’s mind, you understand. It’s not just physical. Just like with Mortmain and Jessamine and all those women at the Dark Sisters. It’s a window into someone’s mind.”

“Then why haven’t you done this before?”

“Why hasn’t Tessa tried to see me before?” Will rephrased. He inclined his head, shrugging. “Who’s to say she hasn’t?”

Jem frowned.

“Not often,” Will clarified.

“I wouldn’t fault her for wanting to see you,” Jem said quickly. “I was unsure why I didn’t know. We’re married. I really thought I was learning everything there was to know about her.”

“Oh, you married my wife,” Will raised an eyebrow. “You dog.”

“We never had the chance to debate this,” Jem smiled, pouring water into a kettle. “If my memory serves me right, you married my fiancée.”

Will smirked to one side.

“While you were the first to marry her,” Jem smirked back. “I kissed her first. It feels inane to talk about it now, after everything, but this is one thing we never got to talk about. Not like this.”

“You kissed her first?” Will looked confused.

“I did," Jem said.

“No, you didn’t,” Will contradicted.

“What do you mean?” Jem furrowed his brows. He turned the heat up on the stove.

“You didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. It was in my room. I felt guilty for days. It was the height of impropriety, much like you marrying your best friend’s fiancée.”

“We both know you don’t fault me for that,” Will smiled. “But you’re wrong. I kissed Tessa first.”

“You did not! Ask Tessa.”

“Tessa is agreeing with me,” Will said sheepishly.

“She is not! When? When could you have possibly—“

“Do you remember when I bit the vampire?” Will asked.

“Which time?”

“The second,” Will clarified. “The time Tessa was there.”

“Yes, but I was there! There was a room full of people! You couldn’t have kissed her then.”

Will ducked his head lower.

Jem leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Then when?”

“Do you remember the cure for biting a vampire? The holy water?”

“If I recall correctly,” Jem said. “You were sequestered in an attic for this part. Sophie brought you the holy water. You didn’t venture out, or you would have come to see me.”

“I’m afraid Tessa intercepted Sophie.”

“YOU KISSED TESSA IN THE ATTIC?!” Jem shouted. “You did not! You were incoherent! You had a fever! You hardly recognized me when I put you up there! You were inebriated on vampire blood!”

“Yes, well, I believe that added to my decision-making process,” Will admitted. “I’m afraid I confused our dear Tessa for a few weeks.”

Jem pushed off the kitchen counter and lunged toward Will. He wrapped him in the tightest hug he could physically perform, each arm over Will’s shoulders. Will took a moment before crossing his arms over Jem’s back. He lifted Jem off his feet and swung him around the kitchen. Jem’s feet knocked into two cabinets, causing a terrible racket.

“I missed you!”

“I missed you too!”

Will allowed Jem to touch the ground again before lifting him up again. “You aren’t sick anymore! Look at you! You’re getting older! I’ve never even seen you with hair this dark! You look like you could outrun a horse! You’re a circus strongman!”

Jem hugged Will that much tighter. There’s a kind of love between two people where you want to be inhaled. Like you’re just dust and the other person is a southern wind. You want to bridge the gap between minds and show the height of your own emotions. Look, Jem wanted to say. See it. See how much I’ve missed you. See how much you mean to me.

Jem tried very hard not to cry. The emotion stuck in his throat and suffocated him for a moment. Old friends didn’t disappear all at once. Friends get their fingers into your mind, into your life. Even when they leave, you remember them at the oddest moments. All of their nighttime patrols in Victorian London caked into his skin and stained his soul. He couldn’t walk out into the rain without expecting a quip from Will. Jem still wrote English the way Will taught him, even if some of the lettering was out of style. Even if it stained his fingers with ink.

Jem was determined to not let go of Will, but the teapot interrupted them.

“What kind of tea do you and Tessa keep?” Will asked.

“We’re particular to Twinings.”

“Old fashioned as always. Do you have any Lady Gray?”

They stood there for a moment, still holding tight. The whistling only got louder, but Jem could hardly bring himself to care.

Time slipped through Jem’s fingers.

“I’ll be honest, Jem,” Will said. They were both barely awake, desperately fighting the tides of sleep. “Tessa doesn’t have much left in her.”

“What?” Jem turned on his side to get a better look at Will’s face. His hair, dark and curly, curled against the pillows. “Left in what?”

“She’s tired,” Will explained. “She doesn’t usually keep the Change up for very long. She’s out of practice. She wants you to know. It’s left her drained. The Change can’t last much longer.”

“She’s been so gracious tonight,” Jem mumbled. “I’ll have to tell her.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Will smiled. “Before that happens, tell me something. Before you came home, we were…talking. In the bathroom mirror. She was telling me about how things have changed. About your life. I think that’s what started everything. She was upset because I couldn’t see your show.”

“Swan Lake,” Jem nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re performing,” Will said. “It’s a fitting subject matter as well. A man in love with a woman who can change her appearance. She ruins his life.”

“She doesn’t ruin his life,” Jem cut in. “And you were always the romantic, between the two of us. I thought you would like the story.”

“Of course,” Will said. “It sounds compelling. Ironic, in a way. You spent so much time as a Silent Brother and now, you’re making up for all the noise you could’ve been making. I hope you’re loud. I hope that’s all anyone can hear when they see the show; just you.”

Jem pressed his lips together.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Playing for an audience?”

“Yes.”

Jem nodded, tucking a hand under his face. “I do enjoy it. I’ve gotten everything I can ask for in life. I’ve gotten more than I dreamed of when we were young. At one point, in the London Institute, I scared Tessa. I told her I wouldn’t last another year. I thought it was true. It’s terrible to know that the longer you live, the more chance for pain. You were- you are very loved, Will. Tessa agrees with me; we all had something unique to us. I can’t name it. And I miss it more than anything. I miss the three of us.”

Will watched Jem for a moment before reaching out and drawing Jem’s hand from beneath his face. He clasped it in his hand. “I miss the three of us too.”

Jem tried to laugh off the sadness that washed over him. “I wish Tessa told me sooner,” he said. “About this.”

“She doesn’t speak to me often,” Will said. “As lovely as I am to speak to, I understand that it can be painful.”

“It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jem said. “Never apologize.”

“If you insist,” Will replied devilishly. He squeezed Jem’s hand. “Tessa is here. Forgive her, she’s terribly tired.”

“The sun will rise soon. I can understand why,” Jem said.

“Would you mind if I came to see the show?” Will asked. “Tomorrow night?”

“Do you mean tonight?” Jem laughed. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Yes. I would hate to rob Tessa of another night with you. She’s exhausted, but—“

“I would love for you to see the show,” Jem said.

Will smiled, eyes falling shut. One black strand of hair fell against the pillow, lightening to a familiar shade of brown. As Will’s hair grew, ever so subtly, Jem closed his eyes to fall asleep.