Clary is different to most of the girls he knows. She is smart, funny, unique and in another world, all of the time. She doesn't ever concentrate on one thing; she is always, always down the rabbit hole.

But she doesn't see him as a boyfriend, she sees him as a best friend. And he wants more, he wants to be able to kiss her without blushing under his thick glasses, and she knows that, but she doesn't want to ruin the relationship they have now.

He sits on the multicoloured swing, getting higher and higher with the momentum; he looks like a clock pendulum. He doesn't at all understand the way that other teenagers get high. He misses the days when he and Clary used to swing together, sometimes even hand in hand. His bony, cold, long-fingered, musician hand, in her small, warm, soft hand, the hand of an artist.

Sometimes he feels like running onto a train during peak hour time and singing and dancing. He wants everyone to join in, but he knows that would never happen. People would start to get impatient, that somebody is ruining their joyful train trip, and after giving him weird, dirty looks, they would exit the train, and remark to their friends about the psycho on the train.

But he knows he can't. He dares to be different, but he has enough knowledge to know he has to conform, he has to be 'normal' for not only her sake, but for his sanity as well.

He remembers Jocelyn and Lucian, how their love had been hard, and then he remembers Valentine.

'It's happening all over again,' he thinks to himself, 'with Clary, Jace and me.'

He jumps off the swing from full height. Several of the kids around him stop running and playing to look at him in astonishment. He gives them a quick smile, and darts from the park.

And then he sees her. She is walking towards him with knee high black boots, and a very conservative teal dress. Her black hair looks like satin as she strolls towards him. She has a small smirk on her pale, but not too pale, face.

And then, he feels overwhelmed with love, because, in the distance, he sees another one of his devotee's, a tall, muscular, dark-skinned girl.

And she is running towards him.

To make a choice, between the two, would break the others heart.

Thankfully, they don't really care about each other.

He sighs to himself, as Isabelle embraces him, and then, Maia embraces him. He smiles up at both of them. Ready to face his fears.

Life is, indeed, complicated.