Well, holy moly me oh my
You're the apple of my eye
Girl, I've never loved one like you
Man, oh, man, you're my best friend
I scream it to the nothingness
There ain't nothing that I need
Home, let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you
Home, let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you
Home (Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros)
"Simon, you're a dork."
"Alas, thy insult hath truly struck me to the core! How will I ever recover from a blight as such as this?" Simon responded, futilely clutching at his heart as he made a point of falling back, landing half over the edge of the bed.
Clary nudged him with her foot and sent him careening the rest of the way, a surprised laugh bubbling from his throat. His head thudded lightly against her nightstand, causing the small desk lamp to fall over as well, landing against his chest. Clary covered her mouth as giggles overcame her.
"I love you, Simon Lewis."
"You don't really mean that, or you wouldn't kick me so damn often," Simon said with another laugh. Clary peeked her head over the side of the bed to look down at him. His Star Wars x-wing fighter shirt had ridden up a bit to expose part of his lean, soft tummy. His glasses had been knocked askew and now rested slightly off-center and much closer to the tip of his nose. He had a lazy smile drawn across his face. His mop of curls were just as dark and unruly as ever and sprouted out of his head in all different directions like sprigs of a fern.
"No, I do. I really mean it," Clary said to him, her nose resting against the quilt thrown across her bed. "You're my best friend in the whole world and I love you."
"Come here," Simon said to her, patting the spot on the floor next to him and adjusting his glasses so they fit up against his eyes again. Clary turned and rolled off the bed, using Simon's body to cushion her landing before then rolling to the floor. Simon let out a whoosh of air when she landed on him but it turned to a laugh as she rolled off.
Clary laughed with him as she gathered the stray curls of her hair and fanned them out around her head. They both stared up at the ceiling of Clary's bedroom, admiring the starry scene they had painted together earlier that summer.
Simon's hand found hers in the small space between their still bodies and he exhaled slowly. Their fingers intertwined and Clary's eyes crinkled.
"I love you too, Fray. I'm going to miss you," Simon said after many long moments staring at the pseudo-stars. "Fucking college."
"Simon, we're not even going to be that far apart," Clary replied.
"I know. It's not really the physical distance if that makes sense," Simon explained, "more just the emotional distance. Like the fact that we won't be going to the same school. What if, now that we aren't forced into interaction 5 days a week, we don't find a reason to be friends anymore?" Clary turned her head to study the stars of his eyes rather than the ones on the ceiling. Simon, sensing her gaze, turned to stare into her eyes just as intently. His eyes searched her face, like he was looking for the answers to his questions, hoping somehow that they would be explicitly laid out for him there in the code of her freckles. "I don't know what I'd do without our friendship, Clare-Bear."
Clary smiled sadly at him, understanding and reciprocating his fears but knowing their friendship wouldn't fail. She knew it like she knew her own name.
"What if we made a declaration, then, if you're so worried? Some kind of signal to the rest of the world that we're friends to the end?" Clary watched as the look of distress melted to reveal another lazy smile.
"That sounds perfect," Simon says, unfolding his fingers and extending them. Clary does the same, so that their palms line up and his long fingers stretch past her own small ones.
"Well what do you have in mind?" Clary asks him, prompting him to be the ever-successful idea-guy that he typically was.
"Well," he said, speaking softly so as not to scare the ghosts between them, "we want the whole world to know, don't we?"
Clary nodded, then followed his wandering eyes to the open window above her night stand.
"I'm way ahead of you," Clary said, sweeping her feet up into a criss-cross shape, then twirling up to stand.
Clary walked to the window, then scooted her nightstand over to stand directly in front of it. Simon stood as well and watched as Clary leaned all her weight into her forearms that rested upon the small windowsill. The plane of glass was swung open, allowing Clary to push a little further off her feet and suspend her head and shoulders out the window.
Clary took a moment to admire the sprawling city in front of her. The light of the August sun had long since faded away, leaving only hazy black skies and weathered black pavement and all the twinkling lights of domesticity in between. The two of them watched as people milled about despite the late hour. The wet, guttural sounds of city wafted through the window: tires streaking through puddles, distant horns honking in distaste, small outbursts of voices laughing and crying and whispering loud secrets.
Clary touched her bare toes down to the hardwood floors before pushing back up, now balancing her weight on her fingers with free hanging feet.
"Simon Lewis is my best friend!" Clary shouted at the top of her lungs, balancing precariously out her window. She laughed breathlessly and looked at Simon over her shoulder. "I love him and we will be friends forever! He's the only thing I need to be happy and I love him! I love him, I love him, I love him with all of my tiny red-headed heart!" Simon's heart swelled and he imagined her declaration echoing across all of the city, all of New York, all of the world. The mental image of a man sailing the sea until a vicious sound wave capsizes his boat floods his mind. I love him it would echo, and everyone would know.
Clary turned and bit her lip into a smile, looking at Simon. She looked pleased with herself, and Simon reciprocated.
"Your turn," she said, stepping back and extending an arm out to the window.
Simon waltzed over to the window and let out a large exhale. He swung himself over the windowsill. It was just large enough that he could sit atop it and let his legs dangle out in the open, humid, city air.
"I love Clarissa Fray," he shouted, matching her volume at first but then beginning to lower it. "She's just the perfect friend and I know I never want to lose her," he continued to lose volume in a beautiful decrescendo. His legs alternated in their swinging kicks in the free air. "She's just so kind and beautiful and funny and warm and sweet and there's not a single person in the world that I love more than I love Clary. If home is where the heart is, my heart is in Clary Fray," at this point Simon's voice was nothing more than a whisper. He turned from where he had been yelling out to the melee of the city to look at Clary's sad smile and waffle chin and teary eyes. "Home is… home is wherever I'm with you."
Clary let just one tear slip down her cheek before she wiped at her eyes and engulfed Simon in a hug. It wasn't a bone-crushing hug or a desperate embrace, but simply a moment of security in the wrappings of eachother's arms.
"You're my home too, Simon," Clary whispered into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. And until the rays of morning pierced the humid air, they sat in their small bundle of safety, whispering and giggling and crying a bit more. They stayed home.
Really random short lame one shot that I wrote as a result of sleep deprivation and fear of the universe. All mistakes are mine. Thanks for reading, please leave a review!
-katethewriter