To anyone that remembers me, I'm back! Sort of.
I've decided that I'm not up to starting another novel-length fanfic but instead I'm going to be putting together a collection of short stories/drafts that I never published just to say thank you to everyone that enjoyed my stories before!
Clary never did see the appeal in smoking. What was so tempting about inviting a stick of poison between your lips, letting it slowly consume you? Maybe some people found the risk itself enticing, a cheeky knock on death's door before quickly running away? She herself gagged at the thought, confused as to why someone would want to surrender themselves like that. But then, did they really think of it as a surrender?
Maybe to them it was more of an adventure, the daring thrill of it all that made it worth it - the miserable plague that came with it that couldn't quite match up to the ecstasy that they were high on from the very first smoky breath.
The only thing Clary knew for a fact was that Jace Herondale didn't look like he was surrendering anytime soon. At least not at first. She still remembered the first time she'd ever seen him smoking, after school, leaning against a brick wall with a bunch of other guys that were jeering at passersby. Clary remembered admiring the way his hair caught the sunlight, glimmering like spun gold as he turned to say something to the guy next to him. She'd always kind of liked Jace, the sound of his laugh and his rare real smile.
But every time she tried to convince herself to talk to him, something in his stance made her quickly retreat. It was in the confident set of his shoulders, his daring golden eyes… he was miserably, embarrassingly out of her league. And she was more of a loser for even thinking she stood a chance. He was Jace Herondale, and she was just Clary, the girl with no friends and no other interests apart from drawing in her stupid little sketchbook that was slowly falling apart.
Hell, he probably didn't even know her name.
Despite all that, Clary couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed when she saw him take his first drag from a cigarette. You're better than that. Jace seemed unconcerned, leaning back as he blew smoke into the air. She imagined poison sliding down his throat, wrapping around his windpipe and squeezing tightly until he lost all breath in his body. Watching him smoke was like watching a beautiful painting being ripped to shreds. Clary just hoped the damage wasn't too severe enough to be fixed.
Over the next few weeks, she noticed small things that no one else seemed to. His laugh wasn't wild and carefree anymore; if he ever did laugh, it was cut short by a raspy cough that only got worse. His smile was broken, cracked around the edges and fractured beyond repair. Jace was slowly destroying himself and Clary's heart ached for him.
In P.E, it was impossible to ignore. Everyone was lined up, bracing themselves to start the 600m run. The sun scorched down from the sky and Clary was conscious of her red hair sticking uncomfortably to the back of her neck. She sighed. Running wasn't one of the things she was most proud of, especially because of her short legs and tendency to breathe through her mouth. Just great.
Her gaze, out of habit, landed on Jace who was staring out at the track before all of them. His jaw was set, eyes narrowed expectantly as he braced himself to run. If she hadn't have been looking for it, Clary probably wouldn't have noticed how badly his hands were shaking. Jace exhaled, and his cloud of breath drifted beside him. She thought of a ghost, drifting amongst the living, barely there one minute and then completely gone the next.
Then, the instructor signalled the start of the run, their whistle piercing through the air. All Clary knew was that she should run and run she did. The wind whipped her hair out of her face and the ground fled from beneath her feet. Ahead, she could see the legendary athletes of the class speeding along, not breaking a single sweat, and she could hear the heavy breaths behind her of a few of the less fitter ones lagging slightly behind. I'm not doing too bad! I might actually get a decent time!
Clary looked forward, scanning for Jace who was probably going to lap her any second. Then it dawned on her that he'd never passed her to begin with. What the hell…? In what world was she faster than Jace Herondale?
Slowing to a stop, Clary turned and froze in shock. He was sickly pale, tan skin leeched of all energy; he'd never looked more weak. Her eyes met his for a brief moment and she was stunned at the stark vulnerability in his.
Then he collapsed.
"Jace!" His name was torn out of her throat and she was at his side in an instant. His golden eyes fluttered open and Jace swallowed slowly, looking bewilderingly up at the sky then at her. His chapped lips parted as if he was going to say something, and Clary realised. The smoking's done this. He's done this.
It wasn't long before she was pushed completely out of the way and everyone in the class was surrounding Jace, their voices raised and concerned. Clary saw Kaelie pushing her way to the front, a bright pink pout plastered on her face. Everyone knew she liked Jace, but he never seemed to acknowledge it. Now, her shrill voice rang through the air, making Clary wince, "Jace?! Oh my god, what happened-"