Hey Guys!

So after reading a bunch of stories, I got inspired to write my own! I am not sure about the plot but it will be filled with lemons in later chapters. Please read and review. As always:

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters are they are the property of Cassandra Clare.

Jace stared at the window leading to his new room. The woman who brought him there promised that he would be able to visit his old house someday but he knew she was lying because nobody kept their promises. His dad promised to always be there for him and look how that turned out.

Some idiot had crashed into their car and his father went to the hospital. The fire from the crash burned his dad's skin so badly that they had to transfer him to a special hospital hours away. Jace heard the doctors tell the woman that he might make it and believed that he would get his father back. They were supposed to be the best at treating burns and Jace clung to that sliver of hope. Instead, his eight year old eyes saw the line on the screen flatten; doctors rushed towards the bed but the line never came back up.

From behind the door, he heard the doctor pronounce his father dead. His bottom lip began to tremble and he forced himself to let go of the wall. Jace hated crying in public. Running through the halls, he slipped past the doctors and crowds until it became difficult to breathe. Leaning on his knees, he tried to pull in a breath but was unsuccessful.

All he could hear was the doctor's voice, "Time of death: 0800 hours." That was it. There was neither remorse nor emotion behind those words. His father, the man who raised him, was just another dead guy to the doctor. Curling into the corner, he stared at the wall in front of him until he felt something touch his shoulder.

Bright red curls framed a pale white face. Green eyes stared at him with curiosity and empathy. As he opened his mouth to tell her to go, he saw a bandage on her left temple. It nearly reached her eyes and for a moment, he thought that it would have been terrible if it damaged those eyes. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, the grief slammed back. The pain in his chest resumed and suddenly the girl's hand was on his cheek.

She wiped away his tears and asked why he was sad. Jace couldn't respond. If he spoke, he knew the tears would come down even harder and didn't want to cry in front of this stranger. Looking up, he saw a hurt expression cross her face when he remained silent. She pushed herself up and was about to leave when he grabbed her wrist.

Jace didn't know this girl. She was a stranger but keeping her around seemed to help him feel better. Slowly, she sat back down and looked unsure of herself. Letting her short legs stretch, she put a sketch pad on her lap but Jace couldn't see a pencil or pen anywhere. She flipped through the book until she found an incomplete drawing and reached for her right pigtail. A worn blue crayon suddenly appeared and a slight chuckle slipped through Jace's mouth.

Silently, Jace sat and watched the girl draw a poor excuse for a house. A crease began to form on her brow as she drew and it looked as though she forgot that she was sitting on a hospital floor with a random boy. For a while, they just sat there in their own world and even though Jace knew people were going to notice his disappearance, he didn't want to move. He just wanted to stay by this girl's side and watch her color.

The silence was eventually broken when the woman spotted Jace. She yelled out his name and rushed to his side. He ignored her and kept looking over at the girl's drawing, but her hand stopped. Instead, she looked at the woman in curiosity and tugged on Jace's sleeve. Reluctantly, Jace stood up with the woman and looked back at the girl. Holding out his hand, the girl's eyebrows drew together until she realized that she was supposed to take it. Without any hesitation, she gave him her hand and he helped pull her up.

Jace felt the woman tug his arm and began to follow her. Turning back, he saw that the girl was still standing and ran back to her. He probably wouldn't see her again, but he had to know her name.

Smiling, she said, "I'm Clary."

"I'm Jace. Uhm, you draw nice."

Blushing, Clary thanked him and waved goodbye before she walked into a different room.

That happened a few days ago and now he had to go live with the woman. She said that she was a friend of his father and that he could call her Mrs. Lightwood or Maryse. A glint of red flashed in the corner of his eye and he turned around. Clary and a tall woman that looked like her mother were walking up the sidewalk. Jace's eyes widened and he suddenly started to walk towards them.

"Jace! What are you doing here?"

His smile faltered but said, "I just moved and am going to live with Maryse now."

Tilting her head, "You call your mom Maryse?"

"No, she's not my mom. But I am going to go live with her family now."

"Oh… Here, let me give you something." Rifling through her mother's purse, Clary pulled out her sketch pad. She haphazardly ripped out a page and wrote something on the back. Stunned, Jace tried to object. Clary furiously shook her head and pushed the paper towards his chest. Taking it, he opened it up and saw a completed version of her house drawing. Flipping it over, Jace saw that she wrote her name and address onto the page.

"Why are you giving me this? This is your drawing and you just met me a few days ago."

Shrugging, she said, "You looked sad last time and you look sad today. People shouldn't be so sad and you looked happier when you were watching me draw. I live two blocks away so it's not like I will never see you again."

Mutely, Jace nodded and on an impulse, he hugged her. He released her before she could hug back, but both of their cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. Clary's mother chuckled at the exchange and they bid him farewell. Jace watched them until Clary's curls disappeared and went back to the moving van. He held onto the drawing and followed Maryse to the car. She rattled on about how much he would like her home and that she had two kids his age, but Jace tuned her out. He just stared at the house and watched as strangers carried his possessions into this new home.