So this fic was requested by FrenchBenzo, based on the song Nightingale by Demi Lovato. The song is based on a very traumatic experience in her life and there is a bit of a trigger warning for this fic, which will be at the bottom. Also, there are a few different things that are symbolized by a nightingale bird. I've chosen the interpretation of love and longing.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the title.
It was times like these that Clarissa Morgenstern felt overwhelmed.
She could feel the anxiety like a demon in the pit of her stomach, curling so tight that she wasn't sure if she needed to throw up everything she could or eat because she felt so empty. Her skin felt tight, pricking over her cheeks and nose, and her eyes were stinging, the presence of tears right there and tempting to spill over every time she let her thoughts get away from her. Her fingertips were bloodless from how tight she had them them folded together, and she had her toes curled in the shoes that she was wearing, so hard they had cracked a couple of times.
Clary needed this.
A scholarship to New York University, majoring in visual arts.
She needed to get away from her abusive father and alcoholic mother.
She needed to get away from the small town where everyone either looked down on her or sympathised her.
She needed to get away from the memories that surrounded her every minute of every hour of every waking moment when she was in her home town, or in the local coffee shop, or walking down the main street.
The pressure that she was putting on herself was monstrous, but she couldn't mess this up.
She needed this.
Clary's thumb instinctively went to the inside of her wrist, to the tattoo there.
It was of a nightingale, the birds wings both stretched out behind it, it's head tilted upward. She had designed the tattoo herself, two years ago, and she had paid the price for getting it done when her father had seen it.
There was a burn mark on her thumb just above the tattoo where her father had grasped her hand and tried to press her wrist down on the hot stove, in an attempt to burn off the tattoo. Clary had fought against him, jerking her hand away so that it was her hand that got burnt, rather than her wrist.
Clary swallowed hard, pressing her thumb into the tattoo and shook out her hair before checking the time on her phone. She had fifteen minutes before she was due to go in, and she needed to get herself together. Clary picked up her folder and bag, carrying both with her as she went into the womans bathroom down the hall. Thankfully, it was empty, and she put her bag and folder up on the vanity unit beside a sink and ran cold water. She put her hands under the water and then splashed some of it on her face before taking in a few deep breaths.
You're absolutely incredible.
Your art going to take the world by storm.
One day, everyone else is going to see how talented you are, I promise.
Jace Herondale's voice was quiet in the back of her mind and she wished that it was louder.
It seemed to getting quieter and quieter with every day that went by, and she hated that. There had been a time when Jace's voice was always the loudest one. His voice would overpower the threats from her father, the careless mutterings of her mother, the nasty insults from the people around town who viewed her as nothing more than trash like her parents.
But in the past four years, it had been getting softer, and she was scared that one day, she wouldn't be able to hear it at all.
Clary closed her eyes, ignoring the reflection in the mirror in front of her. She tried to remember back to her last day with Jace, before he was taken from the world far too soon.
They had been down by the river, and they had been alone. It had been hot, and they had put their feet in the water, their fingers laced together between them. He had previously had a black eye from his father, but it had started fading, and from the angle that Clary was sitting and the sun reflecting off his golden hair, she couldn't tell that there was a bruise at all.
He had kissed her that day.
It hadn't been the first time that they had kissed, but there had been something that had felt different. It had been soft and sweet, and his hand had cupped her cheek and stroked through the hair that had slipped from the tie that she had pulled it back in. Afterwards, she had realized it had been because he was telling her goodbye.
When Clary opened her eyes, the heaviness in her heart wasn't pushing down quite so hard. She could see Jace clearly behind her eyelids, she could hear his laugh, and she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers.
He had believed in her.
He had known that she would make it out of their tiny town.
He had always told her that everything was going to be okay, and she was destined for better than this.
She was going to do this.
She was going to get in to NYU.
Even if she didn't get a scholarship like she wanted, she could work her ass off at multiple jobs to afford to put herself through.
She was going to make this work.
She was going to make him proud.
Clary slid her bag over her shoulder and checked the time once again. It was only five minutes until her interview, so she checked her face one last time, dabbing away the few drops of water still there before picking up her folder. She walked out of the bathroom with her head held high.
That anxiety was still there, and the dread was still in her limbs, but she refused to let it slow her down.
When her name was called, she smiled brightly and she made sure to look each of the people on the admissions board in the eye as she reached forward and shook their hand. She took in a deep breath as she introduced herself and then opened up her folder to present her work.
She was doing this for both of them.
She was doing this for Jace.
Her nightingale.
*Trigger warning for non-explicit mention of suicide and mentions of domestic abuse.
Let me know what you think :)