I have to shout out my girl, rippingbutterflywings, not only for being my beta, but for being one of the best people I know. You're always there to listen when I'm upset and you don't judge me for drinking too much, even when you're telling me that I should cool it for health reasons. You're the absolute best.

I can't miss this opportunity to say that I love my Parabatai, DeathCabForMari. You're so amazing and I love you a bunch. And Spikeyhairgood for your general existence. GreyGirl2358 and SweetSassyPants for being there whenever I need someone to talk to. I am so psyched that you guys are my friends. I love you all.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments, I'm just venting.

Clary placed the filter of her cigarette between her lips, inhaling the familiar flavor. The cherry glow at the end was the only light that could punctuate the constant darkness that came with wintertime in the north. She'd tried to escape it, but there weren't enough lights in her apartment that she could leave on. The night was relentless.

She exhaled, gritting her teeth against the dizziness that smoking left her with. Jace helped her quit months before, but he wasn't there anymore, and she saw no reason not to pick it back up. He always cared more about her health than she did, but he didn't seem to care about anything anymore. Clary left his car without looking back at him, despite how badly she needed to know if he was still looking at her. This was his choice. It shouldn't have been up to her to enforce the separation, but he didn't have the strength to stay away. Ignoring his calls was the hardest thing she ever had to do.

He's just your friend, Clary reminded herself as she exhaled the smoky contents of her lungs. They'd been friends since before they knew how to speak. Jace was her first friend—the kind of friend that sticks with you through everything. When her parents left, he was there to make sure she was still smiling. When she stopped eating, he was there to tell her how ridiculous she was being. He was there every time she relapsed. Jace was the first person she felt comfortable with. They told each other everything, and she loved him so much.

The smoke rolled past her teeth, and the door leading from her studio apartment to her balcony swung open. "Clary?" Jace whispered. She should have taken the key off of his key ring.

She flicked the ash to the ground and turned to him. Light pooled out of the doorway behind him. "You shouldn't be here."

"You're smoking again," he muttered.

Clary took another drag in response. "You're wasting my time again."

"I can't live with myself if you hate me," Jace whispered.

She stared at him, squinting against the too-bright light behind him. Clary wanted to tell him that she didn't hate him. She really wanted to, but she also wanted him to fall apart like she did. It wasn't fair that he kept doing this to her.

It was three days after Christmas when Maryse Lightwood started drinking again. Clary, Isabelle, and Jace had to go take care of her while she cried that her asshole ex-boyfriend was wandering the streets of the city, and he was "going to die." Clary thought she was pathetic.

That was the day that Isabelle killed a goose. She got angry and went out onto the porch, where she always threw things when she was upset. A mug hit one of the neighbor's (very annoying) geese and it died. No one was really sorry. On one occasion, Clary recalled hearing Maryse yelling, "Shut up and die!" in the middle of the night at the geese, while they made their annoying goose noises.

After a long day of taking Maryse's keys and pouring bottles of alcohol down the sink, Jace felt drained. Clary sat in the passenger seat beside Jace, while Isabelle sat in the back with her earphones in. Isabelle had lost her ability to care about their mother. Maryse was long gone, and she knew that. Jace, on the other hand, loved her more than anything. Seeing her that way was painful for him. That's why he asked Clary if he could stay with her that night.

Clary shook her head, trying to forget everything that happened between them. She didn't want to remember anymore. "I don't hate you. I'm just mad at you," she clarified.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know any of this was going to happen," Jace whispered. Clary took another drag of her cigarette before putting it out. "I don't regret it, Clary. I just wish things were different."

"Yeah," Clary spit. "So do I. But this was your choice. You don't get to keep doing this to me."

"I still need to have you in my life," he pleaded.

"You keep saying that," she muttered. "But every time I see you, you kiss me again and then tell me you can't be with me. I can't keep doing this, Jace. We're together or we're not. It's not that difficult."

"You know I can't be with you right now," said Jace.

Clary nodded. She did know that. It became clear to her when he said, "I want to give this a shot… I just can't." At the time, she thought she understood. The more she thought about it, the more she poked holes in the entire situation. She'd been pathetic, but Jace was more pathetic than she was. He gave up so easily because of what other people thought.

She shouldn't have let him sleep over the night after his mother relapsed. Clary didn't regret it, but she knew that she should. Jace wanted to wait to have sex until he was married, but when he kissed Clary and things progressed, she never tried to stop him. She made sure that he was sure, but didn't think about the consequences. Maryse didn't think Clary was good enough for Jace. The rest of the Lightwoods told him not to be with her because she would ruin him. Maybe they were right, but, for a little while, they were happy. Clary could ignore what the others thought, but Jace couldn't. He was pathetic. She didn't uphold this "I'm a good Christian girl" façade and somehow that meant that she would pull him away from the things he'd always believed in. Clary wanted to hate him.

Jace would be 18 in 6 months. He told her not to wait, but if they were both still single and willing, he'd like to try. Clary didn't think he would keep his word. He cared too much about what others thought. He cared so much that he was willing to give up on something that made him happy. Pathetic. She knew he would end up with someone like Kaelie, who went to church every time the doors were open and proceeded to go home to do 3 lines of cocaine. Jace would end up with a preppy white girl that annoyed him, but he would still stay, because that's what his pastor expected.

"I know you can't," Clary said blankly. "We've been over this. It's not enough to be what you want. So, why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you," Jace said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It should have been the most natural thing in the world. After 17 years of friendship, seeing him shouldn't have hit her so hard. Clary shouldn't have lost her breath when he looked at her with his luminous golden eyes.

Clary shook her head, and turned toward the railing of her balcony. She looked out over the edge into the blackness, feeling dejected. "It hurts too bad right now."

"I'm sorry." Jace took a step closer. The cold bit through her bomber jacket, but she tried to ignore it. "You don't know how sorry I am." And then he just left, like he always did. He left and Clary stood there, numb. One part of her wanted to stop him—to cry and beg him to stay. The other part of her felt relieved that he was gone, because Jace was the sun and Clary was the thunderstorm. She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or to smile. She loved that boy more than anything, but she loved herself more than she loved him. That's how it should have been all along.

Clary spent the following days hoping that he'd find that girl everyone would approve of. She hoped he'd regret it—that he would spend his life with someone who never truly made him happy—but she also hoped he would stay with her in order to keep up this choirboy image that everyone had of him. She hoped he would find this girl that didn't know what real love was, and Clary hoped that he would marry her. She hoped he would look at her spine printed on the surface of his mattress, remembering how it felt to fall asleep next to his best friend. Clary hoped that Jace would live with a constant reminder that he didn't know where he belonged, but he let his mother dictate the one thing that would have made him happy. She hoped he couldn't breathe without her.

It got to the point where Clary would get drunk just so she could call him and blame it on the alcohol. Maybe one day they could continue their friendship as it was, but her heart hurt at the mention of his name. She still helped him clean the church every Wednesday, and went to the hospital with him when his liver gave him troubles again. She still stroked his hair when he thought he was going to die, after the doctors told him the growth on the back of his head could be cancerous. He still picked her up at 9 AM on Sundays to go to church, where he sat in the front row and she sat in the back. She wasn't sure if she believed in anything, and he was sure that his beliefs were the right ones. Clary and Jace still ordered pizza and watched TV together at least once a week. She fell asleep on his shoulder, just like they'd done since they were kids. They acted the same, but she was different, so nothing was really the same at all.

Jace brought her back to life after she'd broken her own heart too many times to count. He pulled her out of the darkness that she called home, but he also reminded her of what it was like to hurt again. He reminded her that she had been hurting all along, and that she may never stop. Clary had grown numb to it, but Jace brought out ever broken piece of her that she kept hidden and she didn't know how to conceal it again.

Clary couldn't say that it would all work out, but she knew that she would always land on her feet. Still, she couldn't help wishing that Jace tasted as good coming back up as he did being swallowed for the first time.

"You should not get what you have not earned.
What I do from here is none of your concern
It didn't work, yeah I know it hurt,
but it's gotta give before it gets much worse.
Gotta give up on you.

We've got a lot of history,
but there's too much space between you and me.
You have plans, yeah I have dreams.
But do I have the guts in me
to leave. Pack my shit and leave."
–History by This Wild Life

Not open to continuation.
-IWriteNaked