It hurt, he'd never felt a pain like it. He caught himself digging his knuckles into his chest every time he walks away from her without touching her, without a smile, without grabbing her and telling her how much he needs her. The pain is there beneath the walls of his chest it aches all the time, but as she walks away the pain become sharp, it becomes difficult to breath and the knuckles only give another pain to concentrate on - one that he can control.
It's only been two days since Valentine, his father, broke his world in two. Took his heart and squeezed it, dug each digit in- nails breaking through the muscle and attempted to pull it out through the walls of his chest by a few simple words. He didn't need a weapon or a rune, just one phrase "She's your sister."
The bile rises rapidly, he instinctively swallows, heat breaking out across his chest. His elbows dropping onto his knees, hunched, head hanging to keep in the nausea. He knows it's the shock...and the pain. He wishes it were disgust. He knows that he should feel disgust. Disgust at himself for kissing his sister, for touching her, for enjoying the feel of his fingers rubbing across her bare skin. For feeling the blood coursing and expanding him when she touched him- when she kissed him. But he feels no disgust, no regrets, he just feels broken.
He lied to Alec when he said he was starting to fall in love. There was no starting about it. She'd captured his attention, his interest the first moment he saw her. He'd begged to be the one to go and bring her in. When he saved her from the demon and marked her with the healing rune he didn't know for a fact she was a shadow hunter, but he knew she was, he could feel her blood singing to his. Every fibre of his being was connected to hers- two halves of the same soul. And now he knows why.
He gets his breath under control, leans his chin heavily on his fists. He hears a noise, but when he looks round there is no-one there. He could have sworn that Clary was near - another gut wrenching side effect of being in love was a tingling awareness of her every time she was near. He didn't need to see her to know she was close. It had started within days of meeting her and every touch since had just made the connection stronger.
He stands, starts to pace, his hands clawing at his hair. He needs a plan, he needs to get his shit together, because the way he is now is going to get one of them killed. He's fully aware of what a mess of pain and rage he is. Fully aware that he's the one leaving them wide open as he tries not to look at her, tries not to touch her- tries not to want her. Why does the want become so much worse when you know you can't have it? His insides churn with need, he's like a yin fen addict jumpy and sweating for his next fix.
He falls back onto his bed, his arm flung over his eyes to block out the light, all the energy zapping from him. He doesn't have a plan, he doesn't know how you cope with this. He'd left himself wide open when he let her in. He'd never been in love, he didn't know that you could feel this way. The only love he'd ever allowed himself to feel was family. His love for the Lightwoods was a protective, nurturing type of love. Wanting what was best for for them, wanting to make sure they were well, happy, safe. For her it was so different, he still wanted her happy, well and safe, but he also wanted her to see him, to feel him, to be the one he turned to, to be the one she turned to and now he's left with all these feelings, all this swirling need and no escape. His love is now forbidden, a thing of abhorrence, something shameful just because of those three little insignificant words.
A burst of laughter, with a hitch at the end breaks from him. It's not a happy laugh, but he gets it, he gets the cosmic joke that's being played on him. He never deserved her. He was never strong enough or good enough for his father, so why on earth would a boy thrown away at 10 be good enough for Clary. He was stupid to think that they'd allow him to be with his Other half, to be with the one that matched him perfectly. Nothing could have torn him away from her - Hell, he'd even tolerate Simon just to please her. Evil father, protective werewolf stepfather, disapproving Clave and probably death would not have kept him away from her, so they had to come up with the ultimate Fuck you...yep let's make the love of your life your full blooded sister- same Mum, same dad, the full works.
He digs his knuckles into his chest, again rubbing the ache and turns onto his side. He's going to close his eyes and sleep, maybe tomorrow he'll be able to figure out how he lives without her. How he learns to let her go. He ignores the wetness on his cheeks, the hitch in his breath and loses himself to his dreams- They've come every night, another punishment, another way for him to enjoy suffering. Each night he gets to feel, taste and love Clary. Every night she shows him how much she needs him, how much she wants him, how much she loves him.
Every night he gets to live through what could have been- What can never be.