I was drunk. I knew it. And yet, I could not help myself from going to their apartment and to search for him. Easy to say that even drunk, the feeling of disappointment overwhelmed me. He was not there. It felt like a thousand tiny daggers all scorching my skin at the same time.

The point is, I have no idea why I got drunk. I think I intended to say the words that have bothered me the most during these past few weeks and I am not as brave as everyone thinks I am. If I was, why couldn't I just tell the damn boy I loved him? But he was more than a mere boy. He was Simon. A vampire with complexes at being a vampire, he wasn't a simply complex guy. He was different. I had been with so many guys, but none of them made me feel like this. Never. When I was with him I always felt like I was floating on a river and whenever he touched me it was like my whole being was filled with fire in the veins.

It's needless to say that the Tequila didn't make me do what I planned to do, but I did make Jordan my shrink, I think. I think I even told him things I didn't want to. I made myself weak yet again. Well done, Iz.

As I stormed into his empty room, I tried my best to keep my conscience and searched for a piece of paper and a pen. I tried to write as carefully as I could but my letter came out all distorted - Side effect of being drunk:

"Simon,

I've been trying to call you but youre phone seems to be turned off. I don't know where you are.

I don't know if Clary has already told you what happened tonight. Magnus asked me to go to his place and I'm going.

You know I'm never afraid, but I'm scared for Jace. I'm scared for my brother. I never asked you anything, Simon, but I'm asking you now. Please meet me there.

Isabelle"

I was surprised that my sanity had not been that much affected by the whole Tequila bottle I drank. I wondered if Simon would read this, he was probably with Clary, sleeping next to her, comforting her… The idea filled me with horror and a kind of jealousy I had never felt before. What was this? Isabelle wasn't a jealous person. But then again, there I was, looking at his made bed. He hadn't slept there for at least a week. The thought of that made me break the pen I was holding. Ink fell down my hands as I threw it out the window, so he wouldn't see it.

The possibilities of Simon seeing such letter were low, but I did not give up. I folded the letter carefully and placed it on top of his bed. I looked around at his clothes folded down on the shelves. I picked one up and held it against me. It smelled like cinnamon and the smell was so good and so nostalgic that I wasn't able to put it back down, so I took it with her.

Things between them hadn't been clear, nor easy. I loved him, or so I thought at least, and I was sure he felt something toward me too, but I could not say the amount of intensity in such feelings towards me. I could only guess, and my guesses were that the feeling was not mutual, because there would always be Clary.

Clary. They had dated, back in the date when everyone thought Jace was her brother. It didn't hurt that much back then, I had felt the bitter sting of jealousy though, and I knew that sometimes I had been too obvious, offering to kiss him as a sacrifice for the Seelie queen, or even pointing out to Aline that we had kissed.

It began to be serious when Max had died.

Max. I missed him every day, his black hair and giant glasses and the way he held his Naruto comics. I had thought of reading them but I when I got near his room, I couldn't find the guts to enter it, and I slowly backed way, crying.

When Max died, when we were in Idris, I had never felt that kind of pain before. I also had never felt more guilty. It had been my fault. Everyone told me it wasn't, but it was. I was the one who didn't listen to him when he told me that he had seen someone climb the demon towers. I was the one who left him alone with Sebastian as he died.

After his funeral (to which I did not went because I could not bring myself out of that room. I was heavy with guilt and mourn), Simon had knocked on my door to comfort me. Many people had tried to do this… not successfully of course, I sent everyone away, Alec, Jace, Mom… I told him to go away but he didn't and I do have to say the truth, I wanted to talk to someone, and his determination set my mind and just by opening that door that separated us, I opened a door to him to see the weakest side of me, the broken side of me. Not the Isabelle Lightwood he knew, the strong and confident one, no, in that moment he saw me pale with red eyes, sobbing, with tangled hair and certainly underdressed. He didn't seem to mind, and I was too upset to care either. He told me nice things; things that made my eyes flutter with tears because I knew they weren't true. I was an awful person; I abandoned my little brother when he most needed me. But still, I liked to hear them, he whispered softly into my hair and caressed it, and that's what we did all evening. We kissed a few times but I think the kisses didn't feel the same way towards him that they felt to me. He was there to comfort me, he maybe, thought he should do everything he could to comfort me, I looked awful, I looked catatonic and desperate. But those kisses mattered to me, his mouth was soft against mine, slow and steady and each kiss took me out of my reality for a few minutes, only to crash me again when I came back for air.

I think I eventually fell asleep that night, but I know that he was awake all the time he lied next to me. There were times I pretended to be asleep not to worry him and because I needed room for my own thoughts, and I could feel him soothing my hair softly with his hand. It felt really nice and I've always wondered what it had meant to him.

I woke up several times that night to find myself whispering Max's name over and over again until my eyes were flooding with tears again and he cuddled me against him and I fell asleep again. It was probably one of the best and the most painful night of my life.

This memory filled my whole being as I smelled the T-shirt I was holding in my hand. I looked around the room again, the blank walls that meant so much to her: although this was not his "true" bedroom it was the closest thing I would find to ever meet of it, given the circumstances. Maybe who knows? One day I could come to meet the real bedroom where he spent all his childhood and teenage years. With that thought in mind, I walked out of his room, grabbing the walls around me so the dizziness wouldn't make me fall, and smiling. And I went into the cold winter night, searching for Magnus' house.