She was different and she knew it. It started back when she was 5, seeing things no one else saw. Some say it was a ghost, considering her and her mother had just moved to a new apartment in Brooklyn. Some say it was just an imaginary friend.

But no, it wasn't either one.

Maybe she was just schizophrenic, some close friends had suggested. Which leaded to her mother getting her tested for schizophrenia.

But no, it wasn't that either.

The hardest part was knowing that when Jocelyn went into her daughter's room, whatever it was had left. One second she heard her daughter talking, having a conversation. The next, her daughter was busy painting, as if nothing had happened.

Over the years, she had confronted her daughter about this issue and only got the same answer each time.

"I don't know anything."

It had frustrated her, she knew her daughter knew something, it had never just stopped like it should have if it was an imaginary friend. After ten years, she was a teen now and it was still going on.

No, her daughter knew what was going on.

And she did.

Clary Fray did know what it was.

It wasn't an imaginary friend. It wasn't a ghost, she wasn't schizophrenic.

This 'imaginary friend' was real.

Very real.

So, it started when Clary was five. She and her mother had moved to Brooklyn, into a simple, modern apartment that she immediately loved. She loved the space in her room, where she could draw all she wanted. She wasn't that into toys like most girls her age. Barbies, makeup, jewelry. She didn't find it that interesting. She was perfectly fine with a box of crayons, markers, pencils and a bunch of paper. It was something she got from her mother, who was an aspiring artist herself.

Clary had been sitting on her bed, looking through a box of her old artwork her mother wanted her to keep. She giggled at some of the ones she made when she was a year old, a bunch of colorful smudges and messily drawn lines. There had been progress over the few short years of her life so far, now drawing neat, straight lines, erasing what she doesn't like.

She had immediately paused what she was doing when she saw something moving in front of her. Fighting the urge to scream, she looked up instead, wanting to see who or what it was. Whoever or whatever it was had to have come through the window.

Her eyes met a wide pair of light-colored eyes, both surprised by each other's presence. Clary couldn't find anything to say, though she wasn't afraid. Why would she be at such a young age?

The boy in front of her had to be at least a year or two older than her. He had messy, almost curly blonde hair that came down to his chin, it had to be longer when it was straight. His eyes were a light blue, unlike her own green eyes.

He stared at her in fascination, almost as if he hadn't seen anything like her before. Startling the younger girl, he stepped closer to poke her forehead. She seemed to think that he was testing to see if she was real. Why wouldn't she be? Shouldn't she be wondering that about him?

"Who are you?" The boy's voice was filled with curiosity, tilting his head as he spoke to get a better look of her. "Father told me there wasn't a mundie here."

"A...what?" Clary blinked at him in confusion, trying to think of if she had ever heard that word before. 'Mundie'.

"A human. You are a mundane, right?"

"Of course. Aren't you?"

"I...have to go."

"No!"

The boy looked startled by her sudden outburst, turning his head as he pressed his foot against the windowsill, ready to climb back out. "What? Why?"

"I've never had a friend before...not many kids like me, I don't like the kind of things they do. Can you be my friend?" There was a pure innocence in her voice as she spoke, her eyes big and excited.

The blonde boy gave a quick glance at the ground far below him before he nodded, a quick nod that Clary barely even caught at first. Afterwards though, she grinned and shoved her drawings in a messy pile into her box, setting it on the floor to make room for him.

They stayed up late that night, talking, sharing hobbies and interests. He seemed, to her, so...cool. He had a father but no mother, she had left when he was a baby. Like her father did when she wasn't even born yet.

"So...if I'm a 'mundane', what are you?" She hugged her thin legs to her chest as she stared at him in curiosity, frowning at how he hesitated. Wasn't he human too? Clary never believed in fairytales or magic.

"I'm a Shadowhunter and I'll explain more next time. I need to go, Clary." The boy immediately looked worried as he looked at the clock beside her bed, scrambling to get back onto his feet.

"But what's your name? You never even told me."

"I'm Jace Wayland. I'll be back soon, Clary Fray."

And he meant it when he said soon.

Almost every day ever since then, he would sneak out and come to see her. They would talk in bed about their day, what they had done, seen, etc. Clary had taken a liking to him, he was becoming her best friend. He was her shoulder to cry on when she was upset. He was there when she was at her happiest moments. But one thing always bothered her.

"Why am I the only one that can see you?"

They were sitting in the chair in the corner of her room, her actually sitting in it while Jace sat up on the arm of the chair. It had been 3 years since their first meeting, Clary now 8 while Jace was 9.

He merely shrugged, giving her the impression that it wasn't something he wanted to talk about. "Because they're not like you. I don't know."

"But if they can't see you, why do you always hide when my mom or Luke comes in?"

"They give me a bad vibe."

"How?"

"Just makes me think that they could be able to see me too, I don't want to risk it. You're the only mundane that can see me so far."

Clary thought about that, thought about being the only one who's been able to see him. She took some sort of pride out of that, she liked being the only one that can see him. But how he acted around her mom and Luke, who was almost like an uncle to her, confused her.

"Go to sleep, yeah? It's late." Jace nodded towards the clock beside her bed, being obvious that he didn't want to talk about her mom and Luke anymore. She continued anyway.

"But they think I'm crazy, Jace." Clary whispered to him, almost as if she was afraid they would hear her. It was true, both Luke and her mother thought she was crazy, hearing Clary talk 'to herself' almost every night, then coming into her room to see her alone. Well, sort of alone.

"Come on." Jace sighed out in defeat as he stepped down from the chair, reaching out for Clary's hand. "I'll stay here for tonight and leave before your mom comes in."

Her mood immediately brightened at that, nodding in agreement as she took his hand. His hand was softer than hers, but hers was just a little more pale.

She felt content lying beside him, being able to mess with his curls as she slowly became exhausted. But she didn't want to sleep yet, on the days Jace was here, she never slept until he left. With him next to her, she wanted to spend every moment she can.

"Sleep, will you?" He teased her, his hand reaching up to mess up her own, already messy, red hair. "My father is gone for a couple days so I'll be here earlier tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay...sleep tight, Jace."

"You too, Clarissa."