.
World was on fire no one could save me but you
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
.
Everything was red. The blood he had spilt was red. The fires he had lit burned red. Clary's hair was red. All he could see when he slept was red. So when he saw a spot of white, a flash of black and gold, he didn't know what to think.
He had only ever had red, red, and more red.
He was not a fool. Not like Jace. Not like Clary. He did not do stupid things for others out of love, of all things. He was not one to use others to make their "true" love jealous. He was not Clary. And he was not one who wallowed in self-hatred and pity. He was not Jace. He only helped himself and manipulated others for his amusement.
So when that flash of black and swish of hips walked right past him to the rumoured Daylighter, of all people, to say he was confused was an understatement. She would go exclusively and give that Downworlder blood in prison. The fact that she had spent hours there once or twice didn't escape him.
He was not jealous. No. It was not possible for him to care about someone enough for him to be.
And Sebastian was anything but a fool.
.
I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you
I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
.
She remembers that fight they had after Clary barrelled in and demanded to see Jace. It was very one-sided, though she would never admit it. She had yelled, throwing the words at him and realising she was talking to herself. As she blew up and shouted in his face, jabbing a finger at his chest, and her black hair fell out of its pins around her and cascaded down her shoulders, he kept still.
He didn't move, didn't flinch once.
Isabelle was impressed. She knew she could verbally beat almost anyone to a pulp. She guessed this Sebastian Verlac wasn't just anyone.
When she had finished her rant, they stared at each other for a full minute. Yet it felt like an eternity. Isabelle's chest was heaving and Sebastian's eyes were intense. Like could-kill-you-with-one-glance-intense. But Isabelle stood her ground. There was no way she would back down. Especially to a boy.
Just before Aline came down the stairs and interrupted their "moment", she could have sworn she saw him smile. Just a flash of teeth before she turned around and stormed up the steps, her anger reigniting once again when she heard Clary and Jace yelling. It was always about them.
And afterwards, when she lay in bed after thinking about everything. About Simon's imprisonment. Clary and Jace. Alec and Magnus. Her mother and father, she thought of Sebastian.
And even though her heat beat faster, her cheeks blushing in a way that was like to a young schoolgirl (and which she never has done) there was something inside her that told, yelled, screamed, at her he was just wrong.
Yet it felt so right.
That was just days before she knew why.
.
No, I don't wanna fall in love
.
Her own words were thrown back at her. About Alec. About Jace. About love. She doesn't want to be in love. She wants to live her life. And of what she's seen of love, between her friends and her parents, makes her dread it. This thing, this emotion, that so many poems and songs and stories and movies have been based upon, is something she doesn't want. Because in real life, the life she lives now, not one love story she knows has worked out.
And yet still, she plays the game.
.
No I don't wanna fall in love, with you
.
Sebastian was never one to lie to himself. Not like those people with a conscience. Not like Valentine even. But something was going wrong. This was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to get Clary and leave. And he was so close. So, so close. He had kissed his dear sister even, and when he opened his eyes, all he saw was red. He was so sick of red. He wanted black. He wanted to look into brown and see the glimmer of gold on a wrist.
He wanted to see the green he saw when he was with her.
And for the first time in his life, he was scared.
He was scared of what he would have to do.
.
What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you
.
Isabelle cried out. Isabelle, who never cried out in pain, screamed.
It hurt.
And now, at the moment Sebastian used her own whip against her, she knew why.
Because in all those moments, all those almost kisses and their vicious spits, a part of her loved Sebastian. But she hated him too.
Hated him for killing Max. Hated him for betraying her. For making her take his hand off. For making Jace kill him. For pretending he was good. For giving her hope, buried however deep, that she might have just found what was in the stories. She hated that Clary and Jace could be together if they made it out of this alive. She hated how they had at least a slither of chance of getting a happy ending. Hated how hers would always be a twisted dark thing. She hated how jealous and angry and sick she felt when she found out about him and the Seelie Queen. She hated how it made her doubt herself.
The physical pain she felt, it didn't register. Her heat was to busy being pulled and stretched and torn.
And afterwards, once she had cried all her tears and finally slept. She dreamt of him. He had green eyes. And he was even more beautiful.
She hated him for making her love him.
Because no matter what painful situation she was in, a part of her still loved Sebastian.
And she hated herself for it.
.
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you
.
He saw it. That determination. She wanted to kill him.
It made his chest constrict like he hadn't felt since he had to fight her. And he knew what this was about. If Isabelle loved one thing, it was her family.
While Clary had stayed with him before Jace left, he had thought maybe he had enough. Yet every time he looked down at his hand, the hand that Isabelle took and Lilith reconstructed, he felt a longing. Like his heart was being stretched across a far distance and it was so close, but not close enough. It hurt.
Like when he was with that ridiculous Seelie Queen. He had pretended she was someone else. Yet it had never been enough. Again, it stung and made him dream of shimmering black hair and gold during the day and the night.
Sebastian had never felt emotional pain before. He didn't like it.
So he amused himself with Jace and Clary, yet still, every night he slept, he would dream of black and gold and green. There was always green with the soft brown. Always black with the white.
So he was able to see it, that look, because he always watched her when possible. He had stolen a glass cube half the size of his palm from the Queen. It allowed him to see her whenever he wanted (it was said to show the thing –or person- you wanted most. He had first taken it in the hopes to see Clary and know where she was, but there was little argument from him when Isabelle was the one who it showed). So he watched her when she laughed with that Daylighter. It made him bitter. Like he never had been. He broke his office table in half the day she slept in the same bed with him. The picture perfect couple.
So that flash in her brown eyes whenever she walked by Max's room or saw something of his did not go unnoticed. As time passed on and their confrontation got closer, he started to get worried.
It was foreign. And Sebastian hated it.
Then, on a day that felt strangely significant –as if something would happen- he couldn't see her. He ignored his gut clenching and the part of him that whispered "dead, dead, dead" continuously and decided she must be in Edom. Somewhere the cube doesn't work. It shattered against the wall after the fourth time he picked it up.
And then they were here. The whole hero brigade. His sister, Jace, the Daylighter.
And Isabelle.
He saw it in person this time.
The hate.
The loathing.
It made him want to die.
.
This world is gonna break your heart
.
He had minutes. Seconds maybe. Clary was next to him. His mother was next to him, crying. He felt almost full. Almost.
There was no black and gold, no visions of green that she brought. It made him feel hollow.
So he lay there, dying. Waiting too.
He had no idea how long he would have to wait.
Then he saw it. The shimmer of black and glimmer of gold. And yet that was all he could see. He couldn't see the soft brown. The soft brown that would meet with his green.
He saw her shoulders shaking heavily, saw her hand reach up to most likely cover her beautiful face. He saw the Daylighter try to embrace her, yet she pulled away. Before, he would have been happy that she did not want the vampire. But now? Now all he felt was sad.
So, so sad.
She deserved to be happy. Even if it wasn't with him.
Finally, she slowly turned, and just before his eyes closed forever, he saw what he had wanted to for the past year, maybe even longer and he just hadn't ever realised. Maybe he had been longing for them since he was born. In another life. Perhaps even before that. In other lives.
Soft brown eyes met emerald green.
And maybe, just maybe, they would have a happy ending. One day.
.
.
.