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CHAPTER TWELVE / VOL. I, FAMILIAR PATTERNS
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LUKE USED TO LIKE HER SHARP EDGES. He liked all of the parts of her that everyone feared—the worst parts of her that wanted to set the world on fire and bask in the warmth that it brought. It should've been a sign. Everyone else saw her as a monster, but Luke was a monster in his own right. She wasn't like Annabeth, who for the longest time, could only see the good in him. Will saw the worst parts of him and loved him for it, not in spite of it. She understood his anger and before she knew it's full extent, she'd thought it was beautiful in some way. Each seed of rage was planted deep inside of him and every flower would bloom if nurtured long enough. That's how Will feels all the time. Like there's a darkness growing inside of her, taking root and snaking around every inch of her being. Vines that latch onto the most visceral parts of her. A garden of bitterness that Luke would have found beautiful.
But missing Luke never does her any good. It only makes her angry and sad and reminds her of all the things he did wrong. And yes, she can acknowledge that he was resentful and manipulative and hurt people just for the sake of seeing them in pain, but then again, who hadn't? Sometimes seeing people hurt can feel good. If you hurt them then they can't hurt you. Will was guilty of picking at the most sensitive parts of people just see them writhe—like pressing a finger to a bullet hole or pouring salt in an open wound. Sometimes you just want to see how people will react. Will they shrivel in on themselves or lash out like a caged animal who bites the hand that beats it? Either way, how people react to pain is always telling.
You can learn a lot about a person through watching them suffer.
Will has seen enough broken people to know when someone is sundering under an unbearable weight. And Leo, still contending with his grief, looks like a ghost against the pale snow, cellophane skin illuminated by the dull glow of the moon. But the snow falls like ashes, and in that dim light one ghost starts to look like another. She's still bleary-eyed from the fall and the eeriness of the night does nothing to ease her apprehension. For a moment she sees Luke—golden-haired, bright-eyed Luke with the deep scar that would have been daunting had it not been so handsome in a strange way. Will stumbles to a stop. It's been a long time since she saw him in someone else, and an even longer time since she'd really seen him at all. But there he was. Looking so close and yet so far away. She yearns to reach out to him, take his hand in hers one last time. Even if it meant she could never go home again, she would have.
