Hi there! Um... I don't know how to do this... Well, I'm the original author of this fic. TMTMFD was kind enough to post it under her account (Thank you~) and so um. Yeah. Hi. Enjoy~

Playlist-

Cheryl Cole - Promise This

Eyes Set To Kill - Come Home

Adam Lambert - Sleepwalker

Skrillex Ft. Ellie Goulding - Summit

Metro Station - Where's My Angel

Adam Lambert - Mad World

Adam Lambert - Underneath

Scary Kids, Scaring Kids - Watch Me Bleed

Camila - Besame

The Script, Featuring Will. I . Am - Hall of Fame

The Saturdays - Ego

Wisin y Yandel - Te Siento

Owl City - Tidal Wave

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction. I do not own anything here but the plot. All characters belong to Cassandra Clare and all song lyrics belong to their respective owners.

WARNING: This fic contains mentions of suicide, bullying, abuse and various methods of self harm. If this bothers you then please turn back now!

...I'm Here

.

Prompt: Write a story in which the narrator slowly falls in love with the reader.

.

I'm Here...

You know, I'm not even an interesting looking book. In fact, I'm willing to bet that most of you would see me on the shelf and move on to brighter books, with intricate patterns carved in them, dyed with exotic colors. Me? I'm worn and torn, dirty and yellow-paged. I'm crinkly with water stains and my cover's just plain black leather.

Boring.

Unnoticed.

I am... Just there.

Waiting, and hoping. Every time someone picks me up, and flips through my pages, I feel a bit of hope - Just a dash.

But all the same, it's crushed with a simple flick of the wrist- My pages shut once more and I am placed back on the shelf, surrounded by others so much more brighter than me.

I wonder if I'll ever get my chance to be free again.

How much longer do you think I'll have to wait?

I wonder...

~xXxXxXxXx~

By now, I no longer even notice when people pick me up, or flip me open. I just... I just don't care anymore. No words fill my pages, my binding's not worn and my cover's not tattered.

I am, in a sense, untouched.

And that also means unloved.

Unwanted.

~xXxXxXxXx~

It's happened! Today, finally, I was picked.

You know, we can all feel when there's a buyer in the stands. They hover over us, their hands soft and caring, their touches lingering.

They treat us like we're special, and sometimes we can feel their disappointment when another voice orders them to put us down.

But occasionally, the pair of hands comes by once more and picks one of us off the shelf, back again.

Today, I felt that type of magic.

I was picked!

Me, the ugly, boring notebook with stiffened paper and worn leather.

Today, I got to feel that special feeling - Someone wanted me. Someone paid money for me.

I just hope that they actually use me.

~xXxXxXxXx~

November 7th, 2012

You know, I bought this notebook so that I could finally talk to someone. So I guess you'll be my new friend.

I guess I'll introduce myself to you now. H

ello. My name is Alexander (Alec) Lightwood. I'm 17 years old. And I hate life.

I was shocked to feel teardrops hit my pages, to hear muffled gasps and sobs.

I'm lonely... So lonely. And tired. And numb.

I... I just am.

Pity flooded through me, and more than anything I wanted to let this boy know that I was here.

Obviously, I couldn't but the thought was still there.

But anyways.

I love this Alec's handwriting. He has an artist's handwriting, slanted and flowy, and absolutely wonderful to look at.

Goodnight for now, I guess.. . .

-Alexander

Quite honestly, my curiosity has been sparked. I do hope that he'll continue to write in here...

And I wonder if I'll ever gather the courage to talk to him.

~xXxXxXxXx~

At first, words are not what Alexander puts in my pages. They were drawings of... Everything, really. Random doodles and elegant scribbles, exotic letters and faint numbers. Faces and birds, flowers and shadows - Alexander drew it all. It was fascinating - And I felt treasured. He handled me gently, taking care of my old pages and worn binding.

But back to my original point - It took Alec a while to write actual words after his first introduction. And it broke my little papery heart, too.

Just like his art, he has a talent for writing, too. He was simply amazing at manipulating his words into tales and how he felt. It always bothered me how much his writing made me hurt.

He sounded so sad. The kind of sad that reaches into you and just tugs on your heart forlornly. The kind of sad that takes forever to leave, the kind of sad that left you staring off into space vacantly. The kind of sad that made you ache everywhere.

The kind of sad that left other people worried.

~xXxXxXxXx~

November 24th 2012

I apologize for leaving you alone. I know I've disappeared for awhile (16 days to be exact). And yeah.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to write in here, actually. Maybe tomorrow something will hit me.

~xXxXxXxXx~

November 25th 2012

That was all he wrote for a week.

Just the date. Nothing else.

Sometimes a few drops of water would hit my yellowing pages, and once or twice he'd grip me so hard that I could feel my binding crack.

Just who was this boy?

~xXxXxXxXx~

December 3 2012

English Writing Project Due the 5 of May

…. I wonder what the fuck I can write about without boring my teacher to death.

I wonder why I bought you in the first place... I mean, you're a work of art, really. But I don't write. I can't write - It makes me think.

But now I have to. I have to fill at least one page everyday, or else my jack-ass teacher will fail me.

I guess I'll start now.

My name is Alexander Lightwood (You already know that.) and I'm 17 and...

What else can I say without repeating myself?

I don't care if you repeat yourself, is what I wanted to tell him. Just let everything go now.

Well, I have a younger sister named Isabelle. She's 16 and she's a force of nature. She loves parties and boys and parties and boys love her.

If that sentence made any sense.

I have an adopted brother by the name of Jace.. He's the golden boy of the family and my used-to-be best friend. Well, he was my only friend. It was obvious that he would drop me once we hit high school. I . . . Nevermind, back to the original task at hand.

And finally, there's Max. He's nine, an angel and loves Jace. I think that Max thinks that Jace hung the sun and the stars and moon.

And there's me. I just float around the house, taking up space. Generally, I cook and clean. My parents are never home and I couldn't care less anymore.

Is that normal?

Does there really come a time when someone just stops caring if their parents are there for them or not?

There shouldn't be. I wonder how he must have felt when he first realized what type of life he led.

There. A page. That should be enough for today.

I felt a bit of disappointment flood through me when I realized that was all he was going to write. As sad as it may be, I wanted a goodbye.

A bit of acknowledgement.

Come on, Magnus. He doesn't even know you're there.

…Thank you for listening to me.

-Alexander

If I could have, I would have done a double take.

As it were, I'm stuck in a book and therefore that won't be happening in the foreseeable future.

Either way, I was happy.

~xXxXxXxXx~

December 4 2012

"Strip away the flesh and bone

Look beyond the lies you've known

Everybody wants to talk about a freak

No one wants to dig that deep

Let me take you underneath"

-Adam Lambert 'Underneath'

You know, that always made me think. Why would anyone want to take off their glasses of innocence?

The world is such an ugly place. It's filled with cruel people and harsh truths. There are strict and complicated rules that one must follow to be accepted in society.

So I guess Adam has a point here. No one ever wants to dig too far deep. Not many people want to see what actually goes on in their head - Why would anyone care about what goes on in other peoples lives?

There's also this one -

"A sullen heart ticking under the ground

Taking the weight of which has yet to be found

If you can hear me now, why don't you recall?

I was the one who cared after all."

-Ellie Goulding 'Summit by Skrillex'

There are always people out there who take on too much. Too many AP or IB courses, too many after-school activities, too many chores. They have their own problems and then they take on the problems of others.

And I admire them for it, because that's so kind of them. Why do they care?

If it's not happening to them, why do they care? I honestly don't understand.

I mean, it may just be my opinion, but … Don't they ever get tired? I wonder if they ever crash.

Right now, all I want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep forever. Or at least a very long time.

Alec has no idea what a gift he has.. But at the same time, I don't know all of his story... I'm not sure if I only feel intrigue for him or pity or what. I wonder what he looks like.

It would be such a gift to be able to see once more.

Back in the stands, I'd occasionally hear of someone escaping their bounds, or getting the ability to hear the outside world.

I'm not sure how, but I can only wish.

How I wish...

Thank you.

-Alexander

~xXxXxXxXx~

And that's how it went on for a while. Alec wrote about everything and nothing daily. He doodled, and occasionally did his homework in my pages too.

I was reminded of my hate of algebra.

I hate x. Forever.

It was toward the end of December when it happened. Alec's handwriting was more jerky, the pressure from his pen more pronounced.

December 23rd 2012

They're back and I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate them I hate hate hate hate hate hate them.

As far as I could tell, it was still pretty early in the day and the day before Alec seemed happy.

They randomly come to visit and fight about everything and criticize and put pressure and I wonder if they get that it hurts and it does hurt, oh god I can feel it and-

What do I do?

What …. Can … Is there anyone in this damn world that gives a shit about me?

With every fiber in my being, I want to write back, 'I do.'

But I can't.

Because what if I scare him away?

Then the only one that ever showed me any affection would be gone.

Why can't they figure out that I am not them and that I am not …

I'm me. Alexander Lightwood.

My own person.

Why can't anyone see that?

Why can't anyone see the hurt that follows me around?

Why can't anyone see that I feel what they say? I can hear their snide remarks and-

Alec cut off abruptly with a smear of ink, large drops of water smearing his hurried words.

Thanks

-Me. It's just me, and it'll always be me.

~xXxXxXxXx~

December 24th 2012

Today's Christmas eve. I guess I should be doing family-type things, as my mother and father are actually here this year, but here I am, hiding in my room.

My greatest sympathies for anyone who has to deal with a family that hates them. It's not a nice feeling.

Isabelle is out right now - She was invited to some party. Jace has some redhead over, and so Max is pouting that his older brother won't be able to play with him.

Me? Max only notices I'm not there when he's forced to eat Isabelle's cooking.

At least I have a weeks break. Maybe I'll do something interesting this week.

I could go to the national aquarium, or …. Or something along those lines.

Maybe I could look for a job.

Something different.

Maybe Alec isn't depressed. Maybe he's just bored, I thought to myself.

Maybe you need to get your head out of your ass and talk to him, snarked a voice in the back of my head.

Anything, as long as I can avoid my parents and Jace over break.

And so for the next seven or so days, Alexander would document everything he did. He did indeed go to the zoo, and to a few museums. He got a job at a local bookstore, said it was 'quaint at adorable with the most badass art supply store across from it.'

He seemed much more cheerful in his entries, and they slowly grew in length. From a page to two, sometimes even four.

Alec almost seemed... Content. At ease, and it was refreshing.

~xXxXxXxXx~

From what I could understand, it was about Jace. It was a Monday - The first day back to school after their break.

Now, Alec never writes much about his family in here, but he does occasionally mention his siblings. It's clear that he loves all three of them very much, though in my opinion, they're all so mean to him. So cruel. I guess they just treat him as some type of...

I don't even know. I was going to say dogs, but I do believe that people treat their dogs better than they do to Alec.

January 2nd 2013

"Feels like I'm having a meltdown

It feels like I'm losing control

They tell me I'm a danger to myself

Now the crazy train is ready to roll, oh!"

-Adam Lambert 'Cuckoo'

I like those lyrics quite a lot.

I'm not even sure how it happened. It just did.

It was history, and like always, we were completely off-topic. Normally our teacher will assign us to read something and complete a worksheet or something.

Granted, this guy is ancient so you've got to cut him slack.

Either way, Aline was talking to Jace, blubbering about how only stupid people do drugs (They really have no clue, do they?) and from there it went to the topic of self harm and … I don't know.

The way they were talking about those people … It made me feel sick on the inside.

Don't they realize that it's not like they want to hurt themselves, it's that they have to?

A sliver of fear runs through me as I make the connection with Alec's words.

And the only thing I could think …. Well, I wonder what would happen if they figured out that there's more types of self-harm than cutting.

I mean, once you start all you do is find more ways …

Either way, I kind of …. Well, I told Jace off. I stood up and told him to shut up about things he didn't understand, and he just looked at me.

Why did I open my mouth?

Why, oh god why? I know that Jace is bearable at home, but I also know that he becomes the biggest bully once on school grounds.

All I can really recall is my face getting really hot and he looked at me with a cruel smirk and-

Here, Alec's careful script becomes choppy and hard to understand, and I really do wish I could meet this Jace person so I could give him a piece of my mind.

They're brothers for fucks sake!

Brothers. Why would anyone- Well. I haven't actually read all of it yet, but I can tell already that it's not pretty.

Alexander is such an innocent person... Even though I haven't met him, I'm here, reading all his thoughts...

He asked me something along the lines of, "When are you going to join those pathetic people? Or will you just jump to suicide and save your parents the money of putting you through rehab?"

And it hurt.

Oh, god, how it hurt.. My brother telling me that.

My brother.

Am I just not good enough for them?

Maybe one day I'll show him. I'll prove it to Jace and everyone else that I am worth something …

Unlikely, but it's nice to imagine.

Thank you

-Alexander

After that incident, Alec seemed a bit... Distant. He'd stopped his little drawing in here, and only met the bear minimum of what was needed for his project. It worried me, and my heart wept for him.

His despondent behavior was different. I'd imagine that Alec is the type of person who had eyes that begged for help. I'd think that Alec was the type of person who'd be too scared to open his mouth and ask for said help, though.

But I ached for him. I hurt for this boy. I wonder if things will ever get better for him.

And it should. At least for Alec. Because I do believe that he doesn't deserve this.

Most people don't actually.

But it seems to me that he's somehow managed to remain.. Innocent, in a sense.

Still willing to see the good in people.

January 12 2013

I am so done with everyone. A

nd everything.

I'm so tired. It's as if there's a black hole in my chest that just... It won't go away. No matter what I do, it just will not leave me.

It stays. It haunts my dreams and my waking hours and I swear to you I am so very tired.

I don't even know if anyone out there gives a fucking shit about me.

But you have no idea how much I want to see this world burn. I want to see it in pieces, to see all these cruel people gone.

This last part was scratched out with such force I could feel my pages give a little. Almost immediately, Alec's hand lightened, and the tension was abruptly cut off.

God. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to tear anything...

Why am I even apologizing? You're just a book. You're not someone who can talk to me... Or hold me... Or lie to me... Or tell me that everything will be okay...

Here, a warm wetness splashed my pages, and I couldn't help but feel as if they were tears.

I wish you could, though.

How I wish you could.

This time, Alec didn't leave with his normal thanks and name. It was a simple scribble of his initials, the ink smeared slightly.

A. L.

He disappeared for the longest time, it seemed like. As if he'd abandoned me, and that I was once again alone in the busy, busy world.

This time, though, I didn't feel lonely.

No. The only emotion I felt was a deep, gnawing worry.

January 15 2013

Today, Isabelle played the most peculiar song …. It … Struck something in me, I guess.

Something about trying hard, and making it to the top.

But I know better.

I've learned not to trust these people. All they do is lie. Lies, all of it.

They build you up, make you feel like a decent person … And then they shoot you down. They enjoy that, you know?

Making you hurt, making you ache.

Taking away all control from you.

But the worst part? The worst part is when people like me let them. We let them walk all over us and hurt us and make us want to do anything to get away from that pain.

January 17 2013

I am done.

So goddamn done.

I could hear his voice in my head, soft and defeated. Sad and worn out, tired. Despondent.

I'm done with … With everyone, and everything.

I'd always imagined that I would write some in-depth suicide note for whoever may find what was left.

Here, the pressure seems to grow, almost as if Alec was agitated, or angry or... Something. Like if he wanted to hang on, to have someone to stop him from what he'd already decided on.

But I'm so tired.

So … Done.

So thanks, I guess. For making me hate life and myself.

But, I honestly do want to thank you. You always listened to me, and well, even though I never gave you much choice it still made me feel good.

Good grief, I'm talking to a book.

This was scary. I thought I knew scary?

No. This was...

This was terrifying.

Nerve-wracking (Yes, I know I don't have any but that is so not the point.)

"Suicide note..."

So goodbye, I gues-

Without thinking, I took a leap.

I'm here. Don't go. Alec, I've always been here to listen to what you've had to say. I'll miss you if you leave-

The pressure of Alec's hand lightened considerably, suddenly. I'd imagine the shock would be quite large, to have a book talk back to you and all...

Please tell me that I'm not losing my mind.

At that, I couldn't help but laugh a little.

No, not at all. Though, I feel like I may. I already know who you are - Alexander Lightwood. I'm Magnus Bane and I live in your notebook.

Or rather, I am your notebook.

~ * ~
Yep, yep. Chapter one... Yeah. Drop a review, if you'd like?

Or not, I guess.

Thanks for reading!

-TheShhTiger