HEEYYY!

God, I felt annoying when I wrote that. :P

So, stupid intro dealt with, this is a song fic. And it isn't "This Is Why I'm Hot". Not humorous. No HEA. Just a heads-up. ;) You know I get angsty...

The song's "Rather Die Young" by Beyonce. Great song, though I'm not sure this story and the song have the same tone...

Rating: T for language...Bad habit of mine, unfortunately. :/

Pairings: Clary/Jace, than Magnus/Alec, and then Simon/Isabelle.

Genres: Romance/Angst/Tragedy

Disclaimer: If I owned the Mortal Instruments, believe me when I say I wouldn't have chosen "Cassandra Clare" as my penname. Too classy for me. :/

I, KissingFire, hereby dedicate this oneshot to HPismyhero31. She sent me the lyrics-Thank you so much, sweetheart!-and the idea. This story would not have happened without you. ;)

Clary Fray

October 17th, 2011

Boy you'll be the death of me
You're my James Dean
You make me feel like I'm seventeen

She closed her eyes, pressing her face deeper into the dirt, the autumn's crisp orange, yellow and red leaves blowing over into her loose curls and tangling in the auburnish strands.

Her hair was down; Like he always liked it. He told her he loved how her hair blew in her face, it gave him an excuse to touch her, and made it easier for him to run his fingers through her hair. It was rare times like those when he was openly sweet and considerate with her, so when he said things like that, she kept them and treasured them, promising herself to never forget.

Clary ran her fingers over the single rose she held in her hands.

She hated roses; They reminded her too much of death. When he'd brought a dozen before he took her on their first date, she'd felt embarassed, until he told her that lilies symbolized death, roses were supposed to resemble love and desire, two of the many things he felt for her.

She'd showered him with kisses, keeping the roses in a vase beside her bed until they died, and kept the stems, which she believed were the strongest, and most beautiful part of all.

Clary fingered the thornlike flower, contemplating. Then she sighed, and tapped onto the small thorn, piercing into her skin.

She sighed; Ah, yes. She could feel.

Without him, she was nothing but numbness.

You drive too fast, you smoke too much
But that don't mean a thing
'Cause I'm addicted to the rush

Clary watched as the small bead of blood trickled down her finger, and bit on her lower lip, holding back a sob.

He wouldn't have wanted her to cry. He would shake his head at her, muttering how it was an honor for all Shadowhunters if they were to die while in battle. How living in the mundane world had made her soft. But he would hold her, anyway. Kiss her and rock her back-and-forth, reassuring her that he would never leave her. Dead or living, he'd always stay with her.

She raised her head off the ground, drawing the black peacoat tighter around her torso, though she didn't feel the cold.

She didn't feel anything.

'Cause I'd rather die young
Than live my life without you

Clary looked up at the darkening sky; She would normally would start to head back to the Institute, about now.

But she didn't want to spend another night away. It would hurt, hurt so much. Numb was better than the pain. She refused to look at the gravestone behind her. The reminder hurt. It hurt so much to remember that he wasn't coming back.

She remembered when Jocelyn had died. Two years after Luke and Jocelyn's wedding, she had been killed. A man, apparently someone who had been very close to Valentine in the time of him trying to start yet another war, had snuck into the Garroway household, and stabbed her to death.

Luke had been in Idris at the time; Otherwise he may have been able to sniff out the man before the attack. Nobody told Luke that, he was already suffering enough. They let him believe she'd been cornered, and attacked. No need to throw survivor's guilt at him.

Clary had been one room over. She could've been the one killed. That was how Jace saw it, anyhow.

She was curled in a ball against the brightly colored walls of Magnus and Alec's apartment, shuddering with her sobs, her face buried in her knees, which were tucked tightly against her chest.

Magnus couldn't do anything for Jocelyn; Not this time. She'd screamed and begged, and tried to attack him, but Alec had carried her out, telling her she needed to "calm down".

She wasn't allowed to see her mother's body; Apparently it was too horrific.

The front door to the apartment was thrown open, and she looked up expecting Luke, who'd been informed as soon as Magnus had, but instead saw a wild-eyed looking Jace, in nothing but his pajama pants and a gray T-shirt.

He looked around the room frantically, until his eyes settled on her. "Oh, fuck," he sighed in relief. "Oh, thank God. Clary..." He ran over to her, and sat down in front of her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her on his lap.

"Shh. Shhhhh..." He rested his chin on her shaking shoulder, unbraiding her hair with his nimble fingers and running his hands through the messy strands. "It's fine, babe. I've got you, it's fine..."

It wasn't. But it was nice for somebody to hold her and tell her so. Izzy and Simon were in California, and she hadn't wanted to bother them. Izzy would feel sorry, but still be irritated at having their little vacation cut short.

"Jace," she whispered, pulling away and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Why did he kill her? She didn't do anything."

He pressed his cheek against hers. "Because he's a bastard with no life," he said forcefully. "Jesus, Clary. It could've been you. He could've walked in the wrong room and killed you-"

Clary shook her head, kissing his quickening pulse. "I wish it had been me. Poor Luke..." She sighed.

Jace rubbed her arms, which were covered in raised goosebumps. "What about me, huh?" He demanded. "What about poor me, if you died? I can't-I can't live without you, Clary. I can't do it."

He was getting angry. Worried Jace meant Angry Jace.

"Shut up, asshat. I'm not going anywhere, even if you try to get rid of me." Clary gave him a watery smile, her forehead pressed against his. "You won't leave me either, will you? I lost Mom. Simon isn't technically alive. I can't lose you, too."

Jace kissed her. "Relax," he murmured when he pulled away. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll never leave you, Clary."

"Ever?"

"Never ever." He winked and she giggled.

I'd rather not live at all
Than live my life without you

Clary tossed the rose angrily at the ground, curling her hands into tight little fists. If Jace could see her now, he'd be laughing. Calling her his little kitten. His little tiger without any claws.

But he wasn't there.

And he would never be there again.

"You lied!"

You know I've been in love before
You're the first one ever seen
That burns like gasoline

Her scream was loud and frightening, piercing through the eerie silence of the empty cemetery, with nobody to hear her except the dead.

"You bastard! You lied to me!" She fell in front of the marble headstone, finally giving in and letting her tears fall. They were cold and startling, the October chill making the salty drop feel like ice against her skin.

She raised herself to her knees, and began to punch at the marble, beating her fists and screaming at the man who was buried six feet beneath her.

"You left. You left me behind. You selfish, selfish prick. You couldn't just wait for me, could you?" She let out a sharp sob, and grabbed the rose, and savagely yanked all of the petals off, tossing them at the engraved words she and the Lightwoods had chosen. "You had to go and get yourself killed! Fuck you, Jace! You broke your promise! You knew you would leave me. You knew you were going to die and you let me believe-" She was cut short with a violent sob, and hated herself for being so weak.

If she'd died, would he have cried? He said he would never be able to live without her, yet he didn't seem to care about her, otherwise he wouldn't have done something as reckless as going into a battle alone, without her, Alec, or Izzy, with a whole freaking room full of demons.

"Why, Jace?" She couldn't make out his name engraved on the dark stone, her eyes were too blurred with those traitorous tears. "Why did you leave me? Why couldn't you have called somebody to come and help you?"

So light a match, turn off the lights
I'm holding on to you
'Cause this might be a last night, oh

She should've savored him. Not taken him for granted.

Now he was gone.

Forever.

Magnus Bane

August 21st, 2073

Alone.

He was tired of being so lonely, all the time.

No Alexander. His beloved had passed years ago, dying peacefully at old age.

Magnus sighed, running his hands through his floppy, shoulder-length hair. It shouldn't have bothered him, this much. He'd been alive for now, at least a thousand years. He'd have countless relationships, lovers, friends.

So he was surprised when he'd been so struck with grief at the arrogant bastard's murder, when he was just twenty. The idiot had gone and paraded into a building full of Greater Demons. Didn't stand a chance, but he'd managed to kill quite a few. His arrogance really had become the death of him.

But when Alec had died...That had been horrible.

Magnus didn't think he'd ever been depressed before, but that was what he went into. So depressed it took weeks before he finally began to eat again. A perk about being half-demon, you didn't need the constant feedings of a human or other creature. He didn't sleep. His dreams were haunted with memories of Alexander; His laugh, his smile that was saved for Magnus only, his large, silky hands that Magnus loved to hold, his soft hair that he loved running his fingers through...The wrinkles he developed with old age, which Magnus had only found more endearing. They were beautiful, odd to say about wrinkles, but Magnus loved every little thing about him, so it didn't matter.

Magnus didn't know what the problem was; He'd always been fine after someone he'd shared a fling with died. It was natural. Like he'd told Clary, decades ago, "They all die. Get used to it."

But he couldn't get over his death. And it'd been years. Usually, by this time, he'd have moved on to somebody else. In another relationship. Alexander was someone he'd actually fallen in love with, and had stayed in love with, for the whole time he'd known him.

Magnus wiped hastily at a tear that was threatening to escape. Somehow he knew Alexander was different. He didn't think he'd find love again, not after being so spoiled with him. He was the imperfect version of perfection.

'Cause I'd rather die young
Than live my life without you

Magnus remembered when Alexander had first told him he'd loved him. It'd taken him by surprise, because his boyfriend was not the type of person to lay out his feelings so blatanly. He blamed it with being brought up in the cold, unfeeling Lightwood household. It wasn't Maryse's fault; He blamed that douche of a father.

They'd been dating for two years, and he'd insisted that Alexander should move in, since it was ridiculous to live separately when he was always spending the night, or vice versa.

Robert had been too eager at the opportunity to get Alec out of the house, and had very nearly shoved him out the door. Maryse had said nothing, only hugged him and said she would visit, and that he should bring Magnus over for dinner sometime.

Magnus had been a nervous wreck. He knew he and Alexander would be sharing a room, but didn't know what colors to paint. He wanted Alexander to be comfortable, yet have a taste of both of them in there, eccentric and peaceful at the same time. Isabelle told him to not over do anything, and Jace told him to let Alec do all the decorating, since his taste was honestly revolting (He'd given the boy a small bolt of shock for that).

In the end, Magnus took the colors and designing from Alexander's room-He'd been in there several times-and with a little stealing-As Clary called it- and rearranging-He moved his bed and such into the guest room-his room was an exact duplicate of Alexander's at the Institute. With the addition of his walk-in closet and an extra dresser and vanity table.

Alexander brought nothing but a duffel bag and backpack, since Magnus had told him the he had all the furniture he needed, and allowed Magnus to kiss him silly before leading him to their bedroom, his eyes covered with Magnus's hands.

"Ta da!"

Magnus jumped back, his hands clasped together eagerly as he waited and studied Alexander's reaction.

His face remained blank, and he slowly walked to the bed, and pressed his palm on it. Magnus had "taken" the same kind of mattress that Alexander's old bed had.

He ran his fingers along the headboard. It was the same wood, cherry-oak, but was fresher. The color of the duvet was the same. The pillow sizes and cushioning were the same as his old ones. The walls were painted the same baby-blue. There was a mirror at the same exact spot as his old room. Of course, there was Magnus's furniture, but nothing else.

Magnus felt his excitement begin to fade, replaced with worry. Did he not like it?

"Alexander, darling, are you alright?" He slowly started walking towards him. "Do you-do you not like it?" He winced as he stammered. Magnus Bane wasn't supposed to stammer.

He turned to look at Magnus. "No, no." His voice was slightly off. Breathy. Choked. "I just...Did you take all your stuff out and make it look like my old one?"

Magnus nodded. "Obviously."

He rolled his eyes, smiling a little. "But you loved your curtains-and your bedsheets and the walls! Magnus, they don't look like the rainbow anymore! And you washed off all the glitter..." His breath caught. "Did you really do it all for me?"

Magnus smiled at him. "Of course, silly. I'd do anything for you, except a threesome. I don't share." He dropped a sparkly wink. "I love you, you know that." He'd told him many times. He never expected an answer, because Alexander always showed him through his actions and kisses; Because that's just how he expressed himself.

Alexander's eyes looked glassy. "I love you, too." He said it so quietly Magnus didn't understand at first, until he processed his words.

He could feel his mouth stretch in a wide smile. "You do, huh?" He couldn't help it.

Alexander rolled his eyes again. "Oh, shut up!" His voice broke, but Magnus knew it was from the relief that Magnus hadn't scorned him, or something silly and ridiculous like that.

Magnus pulled him in for a kiss. "Does that mean I can put some glitter on the walls again?" He asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up.

Alexander laughed at his child-like eagerness. "Yes, yes you can."

Magnus sighed, closing his eyes and twisting his wedding ring around his finger. The owner of the other one to go with it, was resting peacefully six feet under ground, because according to those stupid Shadowhunter laws, Alexander had to die in battle if he wanted to be in City of Bones.

He wished he wasn't a warlock. Maybe then he would be side-by-side with his husband, happily in their Afterlife together.

I'd rather not live at all
Than live my life without you

Magnus grabbed a piece of paper, and a fountain pen, and quickly scribbled a hasty note to his friend and roommate, whom he'd bonded with over outliving the rest of their friends.

Dear Simon, he wrote.

My darling friend, I am deeply sorry to part ways with you, but the pain and loss has become to much; I simply cannot live without my sweet Alexander.

I hope you can understand my despair and suffering, I know you're experiencing the same thing.

I am leaving every single thing I own to you. I know Church is a handful, but kindly don't give away Chairman Meow. Mundanes would become suspicious if he never dies.

Kindly have my body buried right next to Alexander's, if you please. (I am making the suicide quick and clean for your benefit).

Sincerely yours,

Magnus Bane

Simon Lewis

November 3rd, 2099

What I'm telling you
I'm giving you my life, it's in your hands

His undead life was, in a single word, shit.

Or lonely. Either one was true.

Simon scowled at the rat, small, white cat purring on his lap. Chairman Meow and Church. The ass belonged at the Institute, and Magnus had requested for him to keep the other stupid animal in his suicide note, so he had no choice but to live with two cats who refused to use the litter box.

Izzy would've been fine with it. Not if they'd taken a piss in her closet, like they did in mine, but she'd love to have two cats.

He hated when his thoughts strayed to his ex wife, who'd died years ago when she was seventy-five. She'd tried to push him away after she'd hit thirty-four, insisting it would be gross for him to be dating an older lady.

Silly girl. He still rolled his eyes at the memory, at how confident and arrogant Isabelle seemed so small and sad when she'd tried to break things off with him.

And what I'm gonna do
Is be a woman and you can be a man

It was a month after her thirty-fourth birthday, and Simon still looked sixteen. It honestly didn't bother him the least; She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, nothing had changed in his perspective.

But lately, Izzy had begun to drift. When he tried to snuggle with her after sex-Snuggling was something she secretly liked, but would never admit it, though he knew-she would turn over and mumble something about being too hot and sweaty to be close to him.

With him having no body heat, he saw it as a pathetic excuse, but she knew he would never force anything on her.

She stopped talking as much. And for Izzy, who was as exuberant and talkative as Magnus was, this was a problem. But she seemed to only be quiet around Simon, and normal around everyone else.

Simon puzzled this over for some time, before one day, he came home to their apartment, to find Izzy standing in the hallway with all her bags packed, ready to leave.

He'd stood there, staring at her in shock and betrayal for approximately twenty seconds, before roughly clearing his throat, gaining her attention.

She looked nervous; Like a little girl with her hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Going somewhere?" He asked lightly, nodding at her numerous bags.

Izzy nodded jerkily. "Uh, yeah." She straightened her back with false confidence. "I'm leaving, Simon. I've signed the divorce papers and everything." She pointed to a stack of papers that sat on the table next to Simon, which held keys and loose change. "All there's left is for you to sign, and then it'll be official."

Simon nodded. "Divorce?" He neatly took the stack of paper, straightened it out primly, aware of Izzy watching him warily, and promptly ripped it in two.

She gave a startled yelp. "What in the hell did you do that for?" She demanded in a shriek, stomping up to him in her eight-inch heels, beginning to look and sound like her old self again.

Simon held them up above her reach; He was barely taller than her, thanks to the vampire growth-spurt. "Why are you doing this?" He inquired, covering up his hurt. "Why are you giving up on us, Iz?"

She huffed when she realized he wasn't going to be handing her the divorce papers anytime soon. "Because I'm ugly!"

Simon blinked. "You?"

Izzy nodded, blinking her wide eyes at him sadly, the glossy blackness looking child-like with her pout. "I'm old, Simon," she wailed. "And you're-you're still hot!" She said it disgustedly.

Simon snickered, and she glared at him. "Sorry, babe." He held his hands out in front of himself in a surrendering gesture. "But you're being ridiculous."

She gave him a warning look.

"You're gorgeous, Izzy. And yes, you're still hot. And sexy. And have master-skills in the bedroom." He bumped her shoulder teasingly. "C'mon, I don't care if you're older. Honestly? It's kinda hot. Eric is insanely jealous." She laughed. "And I don't wanna give us up, Izzy. I don't regret not changing you, because you deserve to experience growing up and getting older, and all that crap. You'd get bored with forever, Izzy. Even my sexing skills wouldn't be enough to keep you entertained." He winked. "But I want to stay with you, watch you grow older."

Izzy wiped her eyes. Uncharacteristically like her, in the middle of his speech she'd started to cry a little. "You'll still want me?" She sniffled. "Even when I'm all old and wrinkly?"

"Hell yeah." Simon wrapped his arms around her. "Maybe then I won't have to start covering you up everywhere I go. I'll be free to have a conversation and make out with you without having some moronic twenty-year-old try to hit on you."

Izzy grinned. "I can say the same about you." Her grin got wider when he shot her a teasing scowl.

"So...?"

"Alright." She sighed and laid her head on his chest. "Thanks for not letting me be an idiot."

"Your welcome. Thank you for not making my life despairingly miserable." She raised an eyebrow. "It would be if you left."

"Aw, Simon. You corny ass." She kissed him behind his ear. "Go unpack my stuff. I'm going shopping."

He rolled his eyes. Maybe he'd spoken too soon...

And I wanna say
Nobody understands what we've been through
I'd rather give up everything
Than to live my life without you

Simon stroked the fur of Church, who'd jumped onto the couch to joing them. "Do you miss them?" He murmured, scratching the little cretin beneath his chin. "Do you miss having your family?"

Church meowed.

He groaned. God, here he was, talking to the damn cats like they would answer.

Magnus took his life after a thousand years, because of one person.

Could he do the same? In all honesty, he was bored with this lonely life. He missed Clary. Hell, he missed Jace. He missed Alec and Magnus. He missed his mom and sister. Most of all, he missed his Izzy.

Simon picked up both cats, and ran to the Institute.

He handed them to the Lightwoods.

Not Alec, or Izzy. Robert Lightwood's sister's grandchildren.

"They were meant to be here," he mumbled, not comfortable with the way Susie Lightwood was blatanly checking him out. Her black hair was too short, her eyes weren't black, she was too short and she wasn't curvy. She wasn't Izzy Lightwood.

"Don't you want to...stay?" She asked shyly, after turning to place both cats inside, and they both ran off.

Simon bared his fangs at her. She squealed and backed away, startled to see a vampire out in the daytime. No, she wasn't Izzy. Izzy would've punched his canines down his throat and cussed him out for trying to take a bite out of her.

"No," he said shortly, after he made his point clear that she wasn't his type. "I'm going to go kill myself."

Simon dug a hole where Izzy's grave was, the dirt falling back into place. He reached her coffin, relieved that he didn't have his mundie sight. In vampire-speed, he opened her coffin a crack and slid through, landing on his ex wife's bones.

Oh, damn.

She does not smell good.

He wrinkled his nose, cursing his enhanced vampire scent. He wanted to remember her with her vanilla scent, the soft honey shampoo he loved.

Not the smell of death.

He closed his eyes, holding the stake above his heart.

"I love you, Iz," he whispered.

And then he thrust the stake into his unbeating heart.

Clary Fray

October 17th, 2011

Oh!

Oh!

It was starting to snow.

The cold, she welcomed it.

Clary dug her fingernail into the carvings.

Here Lies Jace Lightwood

1990-2010

A warrior.

A friend.

A son.

A brother.

A love that cannot be replaced.

Magnus, Alec, Izzy, Maryse had each put in what they'd wanted for Jace, and Clary had asked for the last part, saying that he never could be replaced.

Because he was hers and she was his.

'Cause I'd rather die young
Than live my life without you

Clary curled on the cold ground, pressing her tear-stained face against the gravestone, wishing it was Jace she was sleeping with, instead of a stone that symbolized him.

She brought the bloody rose stem to her chest, and closed her eyes, leaving out a gusty breath, showing up in a foggy cloud in the air.

She didn't feel the cold.

She didn't feel the snowflakes fall on her motionless body and face.

She was in a blissful sleep.

One she didn't realize she'd never wake up from.

I'd rather not live at all
Than live my life without you

In case you didn't pick up on it, Clary froze to death in her sleep.

...

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