I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
– Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet XLIII
The Carpathian Mountains looked magically beautiful at the moonlight. The rays of light reflected on the snow giving them an almost unnatural glow. Nevertheless, Ty couldn’t help but see something somber on the landscape as he stared at it through his bedroom’s window at the Scholomance.
He thought about the merciless cold that flowed at the other side of the crystal, coursing around and through the gorgeous mountains. A great calamity one had to suffer if they wanted to reach for such beauty.
He knew he should probably go back to writing Kit’s thank you postcard as he had told Livvy he would, but he was tired of trying after the past two hours of attempts. Livvy said “something scenic on the front”; however, none of her previous suggestions convinced Ty. They were all too generic.
He kept writing, then deleting. The paper was starting to wear away from the burning friction of his pencil’s eraser.
He was alone in his room, so there was no one to see him not working on the postcard. Livvy was outside in the corridors, (not too far away; Ty could feel), along with Irene. She had insisted on spending some time playing alone with Irene. Apparently, she thought Irene didn’t quite like her very much and wanted to fix it so they could be friends.
Ty didn’t understand her. He hadn’t noticed Irene being antagonistic to Livvy.
But he almost welcomed their momentary absence. Inexplicably and for once in Ty’s life, he felt more at ease with Livvy not being by his side. Not while he did this.
The room was rather dark. The lights were off; the full moon illuminated enough through Ty’s window for him to see perfectly clear the words he was writing (or had been writing (or had the intention to write)) on the thin paper sheet lying on his desk in front of the chair he was sitting. He reluctantly returned his attention to it and thought about what to write once and for all.
“Wish you were here” did seem like the most appropriate phrase. He would have liked Kit to be there. If not specifically at the Scholomance, with Ty, then somewhere Ty had access to. Someplace Ty knew where he was. If he was safe and happy.
He thought about asking Kit that precisely. He wrote it. Then deleted it.
Kit wouldn’t answer to the postcard, it was pointless to ask him if he was happy.
Ty’s stomach clenched. Kit wouldn’t talk to him anymore.
An odd mixture of contradicting emotions, terrifying in its intensity, exploded inside Ty. Scorching rage flowed through his veins as his heart pounded against his ribcage painfully heavy with sorrow, his entire body felt cold all the sudden despite the relative warmness of the room. The crash of strange sensations made him yelp and shiver a bit.
The music playing from his headphones relaxed him. He commanded his ears to focus intensely on the high notes of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. It was the first movement.
His breathing evened out, his muscles losing their tension at the same time his brows furrowed; this was why he didn’t like thinking about Kit. It brought him messy emotions that made him uncomfortable all over. Every time Livvy mentioned him, Ty compartmentalized his brain organizing the thoughts in a way he could distract himself with music, notes, Livvy’s ghost-state, and overall observations. Things that were present. Kit wasn’t present.
Having this weird emotional outburst forced him to organize said emotions, too. Give them all a corresponding place and a cause.
Starting for the anger, it angered him that Kit haven’t said goodbye to him.
Ty remembered their last conversation. It haven’t been pleasant, he had felt hurt and disappointed at Kit. And Kit made it clear how he felt about Ty as well.
I wish I’d never known you.
Ty’s delicate hands fluttered a little. His eyes stung.
He revolved his pencil between his fingers over and over again, taking in the constant, steady rhythm. In, out; up, down.
Despite all, it haven’t been Ty’s intention for their friendship to end at that time. He had wanted to talk to Kit once again. He had wanted. And then Magnus told him that Kit didn’t wish to see him.
The pain of such revelation was only comparable to the one of any bleeding wound.
And, just like that, Kit left. Leaving Ty behind, leaving everything behind. That angered Ty.
The sorrow was even easier to explain; although, somehow, it felt even stronger than the anger. Far more devouring. Thick and crushing, it constricted Ty’s chest in a way that felt almost painful.
He was just sad because he had lost a friend, he told himself. It was only normal to feel sad when you lost someone. He had felt sad, too, when he lost Livvy. But that explanation still felt somewhat erroneous or, more accurately, incomplete.
Perhaps it was because of how little friends he had had apart from Kit.
None, actually. Besides Idris, he had never gone anywhere outside the Los Angeles Institute; almost never had he encountered people his age. His brothers, his sisters, and Emma were the only friends and family he had known, and needed, for the greatest part of his life.
And later Kit came along and Ty was… intrigued by him. He was a brand new discovery, one Ty was eager to study.
And now had lost.
His hand reached for the Herondale necklace that hung around his neck instinctively. But hesitantly at the same time.
Or perhaps it was because of how much of a good friend Kit had been.
He was always so very kind and sweet to Ty. And he was also funny and smart. Ty missed his playful remarks; missed the way the corner of his lips twitched upwards in a gesture that wasn’t quite a smirk but sassy as one.
He missed the slow blinking Kit did when he was thinking, when his eyelashes brushed his angular cheekbones in a way that could only be described as beautiful; the funny way his blond curls fell on his forehead, the slight wrinkles that appeared at the corner of his eyes when he smiled, the sole sound of his voice. His laugh.
Ty hadn’t written down any of the little observations he had compiled about Kit. They all had been particularly easy for him to memorize.
His fingers played with the heron pendant making weight on the chain. Ty felt strange wearing it. As if it didn’t truly belong to him. He didn’t deserve it.
And there was also this final, unknown feeling that Ty couldn’t quite describe. It felt like an unusual sort of longing, like his entire being hungrily craved for something; something warm and familiar. The image of Kit flashed through his mind upon the thought.
Kit was warm and familiar; Ty knew. Even he, with his slight distaste for physical contact, enjoyed Kit’s touch. And he enjoyed touching Kit. The tact of Kit’s smooth skin and hair was pleasurable, Ty found pleasure in Kit’s sole nearness.
He closed his eyes and imagined Kit standing by his side at that moment. The heat emanating from Kit’s body despite the fabric of his clothes, Kit’s smell on Ty’s nostrils, the sound of Kit’s constant breathing on Ty’s ears, the weight of Kit’s blue gaze on Ty’s entire body.
Ty opened his eyes; he was alone.
The postcard’s paper was extremely deteriorated now, there were tiny particles of the pencil’s eraser all over it. The eraser, itself, was practically completely consumed, so was the graphite. Ty didn’t know for how long he had been writing and deleting.
He stared at the empty, bruised paper; the only witness and evidence of Ty’s feelings and struggles during the past few hours. It wasn’t totally blank. There were light traces and shadows of Ty’s handwriting.
They were all the same word. Kit.
Ty wrote “I wish you were here” with the small piece of graphite left. Then, he pushed the postcard deep inside his desk’s drawer, where it now belonged and would stay for the rest of his time at the Scholomance, before stalking away to go find Livvy and Irene.