Can we see beyond the stars, and make it to the dawn? – What About Now, Westlife

Will stared up at the heavens; the bright points of light from the stars promising direction and reason. Greater meaning than simply what they seemed to be. He could find no reason within himself though. How could he? What was the point in trying to find more depth to yourself when the only thing that had grounded you and made you want to believe in something better had been snatched away?

He dropped his gaze, his head hanging low letting the dark tangles of his hair fall across his dark blue eyes. As a shadowhunter he had suffered more pain than most people would think was possible to survive, but nothing hurt quite like this did.

It was a pain that burned harder than any demon poison, itched worse than any rash, clouded the mind worse than any head cold and ached worse than any physical strain. Not only that, it had spread faster than any disease or virus and—to his knowledge—had no cure.

He had been totally unprepared for its vicious attack on his soul and had no time to defend against the onslaught of feelings that it evoked within him. It hurt. It hurt so much that at times he could barely breathe. What made it worse was that he knew that no matter what he did he would never be able to fix it, because it wasn't his to fix.


Her name had always had an odd effect on him.

Just speaking it made him feel out of breath, like all the air around him had been removed and he was just left with nothing. Even with all of that, all that grief and pain, he had no one but himself to blame for his situation. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had been able to pin the blame elsewhere, have someone to hate for making him have to deal with this—but he had done it.

When Will considered his reasons for why he had forced himself into this he could find no fault in anyone else. Every choice he had made he had done so willingly; he had pushed her away, he had hurt her, he had made her feel nothing for him, he had loved her and now he could never have her.

'People would normally cry right about now', he thought to himself bitterly. As much as he might feel like he should cry, he couldn't seem to manage to do it. He cursed under his breath, could he not have any sort of release from this?

If he could have had anything in that moment he would have had her, just standing beside him. Or maybe even that moment over; the moment there were both standing here and he threw all of her words back in her face. If he had only known, just known that the curse wasn't real and that he could love her all he wanted, he would have done it. She would have been his.

Will's fists clenched around the railing and he felt something wet hit his cheek. For a moment he had a feeling of success, he had managed to cry! But then another droplet fell on the end of his nose and he looked up as rain began to fall.

"At least someone managed it," he muttered in a dry tone. Now that it had started to rain, Will realized the stars were no longer visible at all. He could still see the moon though, the single point of light in the black sky.

Maybe that was what he was like, the rain. He had been cold and covering up who he was for so long it was hard to even decipher who William Herondale actually was at all. But the moon was still there, even in the darkest of nights it was still there. Perhaps then, so was he. Whoever 'he' was, perhaps he hadn't got lost at all—but just hidden by the rain.

Will raised his hand and ran it through his wet hair, pushing it back out of his eyes. At least Jem would be happy. If anything, he was just glad that his brother would be able to feel love from the best girl. It didn't help, but it was something at least.

He headed back inside the institute then. He was thoroughly soaked and his combat boots squeaked slightly with his every step. It was late though and no one was going to hear him. He decided to take the longer route to his room so that he could walk past Tessa's dorm on the way. As he walked he imagined various scenario's of him just going into her room and waking her up, just speaking to her for a time and enjoying her company.

He smiled a little as the story rolled out in his mind, but as he walked past Tessa's door he heard her sobbing. It was clear heartbroken sobs. He felt his feet freeze where he stood as he just listened. The thought to go in now was far more compelling, to go and comfort her.

'That's not your job…' he reminded himself. He pressed his hand against the door and stood there for a moment longer before he dragged himself away from there. She wouldn't know he'd been there, she would never know how hard it was for him to just leave and close his own bedroom door. He walked to his book shelf and took out the copy of 'A Tale of Two Cities' and looked at the letter he had written. He tore it in half.

She was not his, she was his brother's.

He sat down on his bed then and put his head in his hands. He had made the mistake of a lifetime; and now he was going to have to live with it.