Hi, so I've been away for for a while and have just gotten back into the swing of things. My writing may be a bit dusty, but I tried. And I got this idea and thought why not. YOLO, mind as well see if anybody likes it. And now onto how I'm out of school for a while and I need something to do, and my answer is writing. Anyway, I'm not going to go delve into my whole life story and type like a million word paragraph.
Pairings are going to be Clace, Sizzy and Malec, btw.
Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the Shadowhunters, I just thought of the concept of this fanfic.
So, enjoy my rusty writing.
Chapter 1...
The hot water cascading down from the faucet warmed Clary's back as she turned around, facing away from the spout. She reached out to grab the soap from its spot on the wall. Turning around, she began to wash herself, rubbing the bar onto her rag.
It had been a very long day. The day seemed to elongate, purposely annoying and pestering her. It was as if that Monday wanted to torment her, not ceasing until she reached her breaking point. However, of course, that was not true. Personification did not belong in the real world. Although she was starting to believe that was not true…
She shook her head, reliving the dreadful day that was also known as Monday.
It started when Clary's alarm on her phone failed to go off. (Later she would discover that indeed she did not press the actual alarm, meaning it would never started) Still groggy from the abruptness of her sleep, she clumsily fell out of the bed- her small legs entangling in the bright comforter than covered her bed. With a struggle, she finally disentangled herself, getting up and hurrying to the bathroom. Hurrying there, she could hear her roommate/best friend Simon moving around, getting himself ready for the day. She rolled her eyes; pondering on the fact that he did not have the decency to wake her up. She made a note to point it out to him that he was selfish in the future.
Fumbling into the bathroom, the mirrors coated with steam and the air muggy, smelling of men's Dove body wash, Clary began to strip her clothes. She usually took long showers in the morning and short showers at night. Nonetheless, on that dreadful Monday morning, she decided to take a short shower, breaking her record of five minutes. And of course that happened to be extremely challenging for her seeing as she loved to indulge in long hot showers before she went to her early morning classes.
Once she stepped out of the shower, she dried herself and then moisturized. Ten minutes later she rushed out of her bedroom, briskly walking to the kitchen a short distant away. Upon entering, she saw Simon sitting at the table. He was perched on one of the green chairs, sipping a steaming cup of what looked like coffee. A half-eaten bagel lay abandoned on one of Clary's plates- that she had made in her high school Art class. She rolled her eyes for the second time that morning.
Simon looked up through his glasses, his eyes the same color as his coffee. His fingers, which had been flipping the pages of his comic book, grabbed the handle of his mug again. He smiled at her before sipping it. For the third time that morning, Clary rolled her eyes. She walked past him and over to the cabinets. Hurriedly she grabbed the box of blueberry pop tarts. Glad that Simon had not already gotten to them, Clary pulled the wrapper off one, popping both pastries into the toaster. She swiveled around to face the smug person that a few feet away from her.
Clary narrowed her eyelids before she crossed her arms.
"You couldn't have woken me up? I know you had to wonder if I was awake." She said. "I'm always in the shower before you."
Simon set his cup down and pushed his glasses farther up his nose, he was still smiling- no, smirking. Clary looked at his shirt. He wore a dark red plaid shirt that had been left unbuttoned. Under it, he wore a white t-shirt with the words "I'mpossible" pasted on the front in bold black letters. Clary wanted desperately to throw his cup of brown coffee on the crisp white of the shirt.
"Oh, no don't blame me for your irresponsible ways, Clarissa." He grabbed his bagel-, which seemed to be overflowing with cream cheese- and took a bite, chewing as he talked. "I told you to make sure your alarm worked. This happened before you know."
"I did check it," Clary said, the terrifying conclusion that she was not going to win the argument looming. She turned around and focused on the vintage toaster.
"What-"Simon was cut off by Clary.
"And is there really no other plate that you could use?" She opened the cabinets above the sink, rummaging through the mess of eating supplies they had. She passed over a cup that had a dinosaur as a handle. Her eyebrows rose at the oddity of the mug. Losing interest, she skipped over it and found another plate, one that Simon could have used. "I told you that you couldn't use my art."
Simon laughed, taking another bite of his overly stuffed cream cheese bagel. "That's not what you said when we used the bowl you made in pottery class for nachos. You're just looking for a logical argument because you lost the one about your alarm." He stood up, finished with the bagel. Walking past her, he patted her shoulder. "Just know that I will always win arguments."
The toaster signaled that her food was done, popping it out with a loud sound. Annoyed, she grabbed a paper towel, pulling the pop tarts out. Without another word, she grabbed a portable bottle from the cabinet and milk from the fridge. She poured the beverage into the bottle, concluding the preparation of her breakfast.
"You coming to the show tomorrow?" Simon asked, referencing to the band that he was in, which was preforming the next day. He had obviously changed subjects, disregarding Clary's emotion. She let the early conversation go, responding to him.
"Sure, I-"She looked down at her phone. It read 8:01; she was going to be late. "Shit, shit, shit. Simon, are you trying to make me intentionally late?" Clary said, stuffing her bottle into the messenger bag that dangled lazily from her petite shoulder.
"Yeah, that was the plan. I'm glad that everything worked out." Simon said sarcastically, walking out of the kitchen with the then quarter full mug of coffee that he continued to sip from still.
Clary rolled her eyes for the fourth time that morning, choosing to ignore Simon's sarcastic comment. She did not have time for it that morning. Estimating how much time it would take her to get out of the apartment, to the Institute's campus and through the maze of corridors to get to her class, she guessed that she would be at least fifteen minutes late. She grumbled under her breath how she could not trust her best friend to do anything.
Sighing, she hastily walked out of the kitchen, bumping into the chair that Simon had neglected to push in when he stood up. She swore again, the pain in her shin nearly bringing her to tears. She fought the urge to limp and instead continued hastily to walk towards the door.
"Why can't you ever push in your damn chair?" She questioned, grabbing her jean jacket as she opened the door. Before she heard another one of Simon's sarcastic comments, she walked out, shutting the door deafeningly, the sound echoing through the empty halls of the building.
As she ran down the steps, deciding that the elevator was unnecessary for the moment, Clary pulled her hair up into a ponytail, using the tie on her wrist. Finished, she barreled out the front door of the apartment building -greeting the tenant first- before a hailing a taxi.
Thirty-two minutes later- and so far nine minutes late- Clary hopped out of the taxi, paid the man and sprinted into the campus. Clary and Simon went to the Art Institute of New York, both ending their junior year as the summer became close. Simon's area of study was Game Programming, while Clary's was Industrial Design. They had-
She vigorously walked along the path, brushing people as she went, saying sorry in the process. Seven minutes later, one minute off her projected time, Clary stumbled into her first class. Everyone looked up at her. She closed the door softly, looking for a seat. The day was going to be rough; she had called it.
Five long classes and one Tai Chi lesson later, Clary staggered into her stepdad's- Luke Graymark- bookstore; Graymark Books. He had gotten her job there, since he owned, and she found it to be one of the relaxing points in her day. She tiredly pulled off her messenger bag and jean jacket. Slumping onto the old couch that had been pushed up against one of the storefront windows, she sighed heavily.
Luke emerged from one of the bookshelves, the shelf that contained books about werewolves and other mystical creatures. Some of them being fiction, some were nonfiction.
"Caio," Luke said, greeting Clary in Italin. "I see you had a hard day. Was Tai Chi really that back breaking?"
Clary recognized the sarcasm in Luke's tone. She smiled as she picked at the tights she wore. She was not one for tights, but all her yoga pants were dirty and tights seemed to be the next best comfortable thing to wear to a Tai Chi lesson.
"Hey, no, it was the walk I take to get there." She said, sitting up, almost ready to start working for the rest of the evening. "Why did you even reference that place to me anyway? You know that I'm likely the least active person you know in your life."
Luke shrugged, opening a box of books. There was a piece of tape on the front; For Donation it had said. He began to pick up the books, the covers looking worn, but still in somewhat a presentable condition. Luke handed them to her without looking up. She grabbed them and scanned the genre on one of the first few pages of them. They were all fantasy. She looked at the one top to see that there was a boy on the front cover of the book. He bore a sword, evidently using it to fight the demon-looking creature that was lunging toward him. She chucked it over toward her satchel, planning to read it.
"Thought you needed something to do other than art and coming here. In plus, Tai Chi is very beneficial for the average human being. It's really effective in helping to relieve stress and tension within you."
Clary walked over to the fantasy section. "Okay first, you sound like a hippie on LSD. Second, I have my art to relieve stress and tension. Third, that class that you sent me to is filled with old people." She said, obviously not approving of how she was the only college student in her lesson. The second youngest person, next to her, was a Vietnamese woman- who owned a delicious Pho restaurant- who stated that she was going on forty-two in the year coming. Clary had sighed.
Luke chuckled at how Clary described him as a hippie on LSD. "Then come to my class on Saturday. Your mom said that she would come with me too, after she got off her plane."
"I'd rather not," Clary said.
"Then stay in your Tai Chi class." Luke replied, walking over to the children's section. He fixed the rocking chair and straightened the alphabet themed carpet next to it.
Clary said nothing else, concluding that she had lost three arguments that day. No one else came into work that evening, as Luke had only scheduled Clary to clock in. His theory was that people did not have time or energy to come into his bookstore on Mondays, so why have more than one person. Therefore, Clary was the only person who volunteered out of his supply of employees, wanting the extra money. And Luke proved to be right. That evening only three people came to the store. One elderly man with tanned skin and dark living spots on his wrinkled balding head, a girl who looked no older than Clary, her skin covered with tattoos and a woman with Atlantic blue dyed dreadlocks.
At 7:30, Luke closed the store. Clary hopped into the car thankful that he offered to drive over the bridge and take her home. She slid into the seat, propping her bag on her lap. Preparing to go to fall into a welcomed slumber, she laid her head against the window. However, Luke had another plan.
"Remember when you asked if I could find you a job dealing with art?" Luke asked, stepping into his truck and sitting in the driver's seat next to her. He had pulled her out of almost-sleep. Moderately annoying her.
Slightly annoyed she said, "Yeah, I remember."
"Well, I got you something even better than job." Luke said excitedly, tapping against the steering wheel.
Normally Clary would have been just as enthusiastic as Luke would. She would be starting her life; he had gotten her something better than what she asked for. It had to be good, right. Of course, it had to be, or so she thought.
"Oh yeah, what's better than what I requested?" Clary asked, trying to keep the plain irritation from her voice. She managed to succeed; Luke showed no palpable recognition of how she felt.
"I got you an internship for Shadowhunter Magazine."
Clary straightened up, turning to stare at Luke. He must have token her posture as positive because when they stopped at a red light, his smile broadened. He looked ready to hug her, but the fast light turned green. He stepped on the gas, turning a corner.
"You got me what at Shadowhunter Magazine?" Clary questioned, failingly severely to conceal the irritation from her voice.
Not only did he not get her a job dealing with art, but he got her an internship in the one of the world's largest teen magazines. She was not going to survive in that workplace. Clary was not going to be suitable there at all. With the way she dressed- a tomboy style that she preferred and thought was exceptionally comfortable- it would not be accepted. Not that she cared what the snobs working there thought. But that was only a small reason that contributed as to why she would not be appropriate for that place.
However, Jocelyn Fairchild-Graymark- her mom- did not raise a brat. She may have been too overprotective resulting in Clary being stubborn, but she did not raise a selfish girl. Clary had to change her attitude. An internship at a global company that was connected to another known international company was impressive. She should be thankful that Luke even got her an internship. She suddenly felt like the worst person in the world and tremendously guilty.
In plus, Clary was never one to back down from a challenge. She was not that girl who cared what people thought about her. Summer was coming, she was about to go on break. She needed another job, but an internship at Shadowhunter teen magazine was just as good. Above all, she still had the bookstore to come back to. Everything was going to be fine.
"I'm sorry-"Clary was about to apologize, but Luke cut her off. He laid his hand atop hers, his other on the steering wheel, multitasking.
"You're fine, I understand completely." He said, removing his hand form hers to fix his glasses. "I get it; you wanted a summer job at somewhere that you like, in an environment that you desire. But just give Shado-"
"No, working at the bookstore is perfectly fine. I really do enjoy smelling the stale air of old books, stacking worn out novels onto shelves and reading the outdated magazines on teen health." Clary said, allowing a little sarcasm into her tone. "And I will give the magazine a try. Thank you." As she spoke, Clary began to focus on the pros of interning at that place. The fog that she had accumulated from the sleep she been about to indulge in, had faded and she was awake, thinking.
"Good, your mom was worried that you wouldn't like it." Luke said.
"Oh," Clary responded, not focusing all her attention on what Luke was saying.
Instead, she was pondering over the pros of Shadowhunter Magazine. She had looked up the teen magazine a couple of times. With the information, she remembered that the building the workplace was in is Manhattan. It was positioned a few blocks away from Times Square, right in the middle of the bustle of everyday life. That was a pro; she would assuredly get a nice view of the other buildings and the river. There was also the snack room where there would surely be a very expensive coffee maker, there to assist her prerequisite for the bitter drink- pro. There would also be famous people of course. The magazine was a world known phenomena that many teens knew about. So of course, there would be famous people milling around that place. It would give Clary an opportunity to get her art skills out there maybe. Perhaps, being an intern at that place would not be so bad.
"Clary, we're here." Luke said, cutting in her reverie.
She looked out the window and up at her apartment building. She slung her messenger bag over her shoulder, opening unlocking the door after. Swirling around, she hugged Luke.
"Thank you-Oh when do I start?" Clary asked, expecting Luke to tell her in a week or longer. It was the perfect span of time for her to prepare. Final exams were in a week. It would be great if she started then.
"Tomorrow," Luke answered quickly, reaching over to close the door when she stepped out. He waved to her and speeded down the street, a few seconds later, halting because he reached a red light.
Clary stood there, her anger growing. This was impossible. How could she start the following day? What the hell?
And so, she soon found herself in the shower. As she started to come back to reality, the bathroom door opened. Through the shower curtain, she saw the unruly dark hair of Simon. He indifferently walked into the bathroom, standing in front of the sink. He opened the medicine cabinet, pulling out the toothpaste.
"Um excuse me, did you not notice the shower is on and that I'm in it," Clary said, indignantly, making sure that Simon caught all of her venom.
She peeked out of the shower, clutched the curtain so that her body was not visible. Simon had changed clothes. He wore a lose fitting shirt that read; Retired in red bold letters, below it the words read; I'm the life of the party even when it lasts until 8 P.M. A dated suede jacket covered his arms. She sighed,that meant that he was ready to go out "on the town". Whenever he wore that jacket that was what it always preordained. It was a Monday, 8:20 and Clary had studying to do. She was not in the mood to entertain Simon's idea of fun for that particular night.
"Coming to Pandemonium with me?" He asked nonchalantly, as if he was not brushing his teeth while Clary peered at him from behind the shower curtain, naked. Simon and Clary were best friends/roommates, but there was a line drawn when it came to them being naked around one another. However, Simon had passed that line some many times that Clary was sure there was not even one still in existence.
"Are you serious," She questioned incredulously, slipping her head back into the shower as she began to wash off the soap that coated her pale skin. "Did you seriously just ask me if I was going to go to Pandemonium with you, on a Monday night, the week before final exams? You're unbelievable, I hope you know that."
"First, you overacting, second, we're college students. We've study long enough, we should have some fun." Simon said, around the toothbrush that was currently brushing his already pristine white teeth.
"I'm not overacting," Clary said, turning the faucet off before reaching out of the shower. She grabbed her towel off the rail that it hung next to where she stood. Wrapping it around small frame, she stepped out the shower. Simon- not affected- continued to brush his teeth; she rolled her eyes for the millionth time that day. "And you Simon Lewis, not studying. Thought you were a geek," Clary mumbled under her breath.
"I am a geek, but I'm not a nerd. There's a big difference." Simon said, spitting out the paste that he had in his mouth.
"Oh didn't know there was a difference."
Simon washed his mouth out. "It'll only be for like two hours. If we leave now, we'll get back before eleven. You only have two classes tomorrow and one starts at ten. So you'll have enough time to come back and study and go to sleep or whatever."
Clary hesitated before she nodded. "Fine, but why do you even want to go out so bad, clubbing's never really been your think."
"It's about to be." Simon said, smirking as he walked out the bathroom backwards.
A/N
Alright, so I know that it was not eventful, but it contributes to following chapters. Also, just wanted to introduce Clary, Simon and Luke and what they are in this story. So, hoped you liked it. Hope I didn't get too off the story and I hope it made sense.
P.S, I don't know what the Art Institute of New York City is like, I just looked it up. I don't know if they have exams or whatever,my guestimation. And sorry is Simon seems out of character, I'm not the wonderful Cassandra Clare and I don't know much about the "geeky stuff" Simon's into. But, I hope I at least stuck somewhat to the personality of them. So review, or not, to tell me... things... I don't know. Until next time hopefully...
And pray for the terror threats and attacks, hope that no more happen...
-TheWalkingMe