“Hello, Jane,” he said, and his voice was as bright and intense as his eyes. It was hard not to be captured by this Gansey; he was both powerful and worrisome in his tension.

Don’t stare – too late.

After everything, Blue’s St. Mark’s Eve tradition changes.

She does not go out to any churches. She stays away from the ley line.

She insists on a night in, and they end up having a picnic on the floor of Monmouth, amidst the cardboard miniature of the town that brought them together.

Ronan grumbles but shows up with a bunch of vegetables and fruit from the Barns (out of season and sometimes strange colours, but delicious) and Adam actually books it off work. Opal goes to spend the night at 300 Fox Way (and maybe dances with Gwenllian on the corpse road). Henry presents her with a book of maps, a subtle nod to the future, to making plans.

Gansey is unusually quiet, and so is Blue, and they hold hands most of the night. No one makes fun of them for it.

In their heads they’re both replaying prices of the same conversation, but that’s something they’ll discuss later, when the sun is out, when there’s no soaked shoulders in sight.

They spend the night with the people they love and they finally, finally start letting themselves believe that they get to continue to live. Blue starts to let go of the little nagging belief that it was her fault. Gansey traces Blue’s palm and wonders at what they’re all going to discover together.

As a group, they really start to understand that they’ve won themselves a lifetime of this, of these people and these feelings.

And without really talking about it, they set an extra plate for the friend they lost along the way.

The girl is a photographer.