The library doors opened with a creak. My head snapped up from being buried in my book to find none other than Will entering through the dark, wooden doors. I instantly went back to my book, hoping he'd get what he needed and leave before acknowledging me. I tucked my feet under me and continued to read, but I found myself unable to concentrate on the text.
"I knew you'd be here," his voice sounded by the doors. I don't look up, pretending to be lost in my book. Footsteps traveled in my direction, but I tried to ignore them. He stopped in front of me and stood there for a moment. After what felt like years, I looked up, half expecting him to have a smirk on his face. I was surprised to find him dead serious.
"What do you need, Mr. Herondale?" I asked with my tone somewhat cold. Something flashed in his eyes when I used his proper name, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. He looked around the dim library before his eyes found mine again.
"It's just . . . I wanted to–" he cut off. I could tell he was struggling with what to say.
"You just what? What is it you want?" I questioned, my voice curious. His eyes traveled to the carpeted floor and he took a seat in the chair across from me. "Have you come to apologize for your inappropriate behavior in the attic?"
His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed.
"What makes you say that?" he asked in a harsh voice. I flinched at his tone but tried to make it unnoticeable. It didn't work because his eyes softened a little bit before going cold again.
"I know you're not who you're trying to make yourself out to be," I told him. He stood up abruptly and glared down at me.
"What makes you say that? I'm just who I am, Tessa. Whether you like it or not, this is who I am," he snapped. I didn't flinch this time; instead I laid my book next to me and also stood up.
"I know this isn't who you are. You just won't let anyone in because you're too afraid. You're afraid that if you do, you'll get hurt. You push everyone away like they're your enemies, but they're not. Jem, me, Charlotte, Henry, even Jessamine–we're your family and we care. Why are you so afraid? What is there to fear? I know-"
"You don't know me, so stop pretending like you do," he cut me off. I felt like I had been slapped, but I hid it.
"I want to know you! Why won't you let me?" I asked, almost begged. His face was flushed with anger and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.
"Maybe I just don't want to be known, have you ever thought of that? Maybe I just want to be left alone!" I took a step closer to him so we were chest-to-chest. I almost expected him to take a step back, but he stayed put.
"Nobody wants to be alone," I told him softly. We continued to stare at each other and I hesitantly reached a hand out to touch his arm. He pulled his arm away roughly and I felt hurt. Immediately I felt tears pool in my eyes and I silently cursed myself for crying.
"Well, that just proves you don't know me because I do," he said before turning sharply on his heel and walking swiftly out the doors. They slammed shut behind him and I sat back down in my chair. I blinked the tears away–I would not cry over Will. He wasn't worth my tears.
I got up, put my book away, and walked out the doors that Will had fled from.
He wasn't worth anyone's tears.
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