A/N: I own nothing from the Mortal Instruments series, all rights go to Cassandra Clare, and I do not profit from writing this fiction.

I've always wanted to write a story about Simon and Clary, but I can never reach beyond what he thought. I can't really do dialouge. It ends up coming all... blegh.


Simon Lewis was in love, and as cliché as it sounds, it was with his best friend. He loved everything about her. He loved her obsession with manga, her tank-tops with Chinese characters on it, he loved how she never hid the fact that she disliked the music his band made—if it could even be considered music—He loved the bright red color of her hair, her beautiful green eyes and the endless freckles that resided on her beautiful face.

He always thought about what it would be like to hold her against him, always imagining how it would be like to kiss her. He could never work up the courage to actually tell her how he felt and there were times where he almost did, but he'd give up. He always tried to mold himself into what he thought Clary would like, but he'd always fail miserably. But then he'd try again because he wanted her to approach him and tell him that she liked him, so he wouldn't risk the embarrassment of being rejected. She never did though. She never showed any interest in him as a boyfriend, and always made it clear that he was her best friend. He didn't want that; he wanted her to love him, he wanted to hold her in his arms, and he wanted to stay up late on the phone with her babbling on about nothing.

But when he really did think about it, there were times where it felt like he was her boyfriend. They'd stay over at each other's houses, they hung out every day for hours, and they told each other everything. There wasn't one thing he didn't know about her and there wasn't one thing she didn't know about him-well there was one thing. Simon knew Clary like the back of his hand, and vice-versa. They could read each other like an open book and he loved that he could. They were always there for each other no matter what time, there had even been that one night when Clary called him at three in the morning asking for his forgiveness after a silly argument they had had hours before.

He realized maybe that's all he really needed. He just wanted to know that she was his friend and that she did care. Maybe it didn't matter if they were boyfriend and girlfriend, as long as she still talked to him. As long as she remembered his name, made lame jokes about him, and as long as she kept her promise about being his best friend forever. He could live with just being a friend and nothing more. Who knows, maybe one day she will like him.

But for now he could settle with being friends.

Best friends.


A/N: Hope ya liked it. :3 Review please!