Ch. 2 - Close

Alright! I got to the second chapter of my first AU! So happy :D And I'm really happy that you guys are reviewing and reading and liking and such. So please, if you could,

Shiver, by Coldplay

Groaning, Magnus swatted at the owner of the rough tongue he felt on his face. Chairman Meow voiced his displeasure, turning up his nose and walking across the room to curl up on Camille's bed. He sat up, his head pounding and his fingers getting caught as they pushed back his hair.

Camille was still asleep, her hair spread across the pillow like a blond splatter of paint. Chairman was curling up around her arm, an honest-to-God smile on his squinting face. Magnus had to smile himself.

He glanced at the clock. Noon. It felt like six. His mouth was dry and he was sore. Figuring a shower would help, he sat up and fell right back on his pillow.

Okay, so his headache wasn't letting him get up. Lovely. At least he didn't have to go to school until tomorrow.

He let out a frustrated sigh. His hair was already a disaster, he knew, just from the knots in it. It was probably sweaty and stringy, a complete mess. Magnus didn't doubt it.

One consolation, however, was the fact that he'd been conscious enough to pull on a pair of pajama pants instead of going to sleep in his skinny jeans. If he was that conscious last night without sleep, he should've been fine that morning.

Sadly, hangovers didn't really work that way.

So he just laid there for a while. About a half an hour passed before Camille stirred, jolting the cat into attack mode, his tail puffed up and his mouth open to show his mini-fangs. She stretched and sat up, rubbing her eyes, mumbling, "Magnus? You gotta get up."

"Already done, babe."

Camille smiled blearily. "That's what you get."

"Psh, it was so worth it. You'll understand one day soon enough," he told her, eliciting a laugh. Then, remembering the day before, he asked Camille with as much nonchalance as he could muster, "Hey, Camille, you wouldn't happen to know if Isabelle Lightwood has a brother?"

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Of course she does. You know Jace, but he's adopted, and you know Alec, I mean he looks just like her, and I think she's got a little brother. I mean, how do you not know that?"

Knew it. "I just saw this guy that looked like her with Jace; Alec, or something like that. I wanted to know if it was a coincidence or not," he said offhandedly, but Camille was already grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Where did you see him? He's, like, antisocial, almost. He never goes out anywhere," she asked.

Magnus shrugged. "I might have seen him playing with his kid brother at the park. Gawd, that makes me sound like a stalker," he commented, which served only to make Camille's grin grow even bigger.

"You dirty little slut! You like Alec Lightwood, don't you?" She giggled, and settled back thoughtfully. "I mean, he is gorgeous, but he hangs with Jace, so he's obviously tainted."

Magnus raised his eyebrows. "Who are you calling a dirty little slut? I'm older and taller than you, not to mention I don't look like Barbie."

Camille just grinned. "Yeah, I know I'm perfect. But I was talking about your late night out. Raphael must be some special bitch for you to stay out till three. I mean, you missed out on prime beauty sleep, and you've got those circles under your eyes," she informed him, ending with a gasp. His hands flew to his face in terror as she burst out laughing. "Sucker."

"You evil little bitch! I hate you," he squealed, flinging his pillow at her. She deflected it easily. "Oh, does Mom have to work today?"

"I think so."

"Good. Now, I'm going to go take a shower before you get the chance to hog the bathroom." He stuck his tongue out at his sister as he grabbed a clean pair of skinnies and left the room.

When Alec woke up, it was still snowing, but the snowflakes outside were bigger and slower than they had been the night before. With a yawn, he got out of bed. Stepping on the carpet and letting go of the blankets made him want to go back to sleep and curl up beneath the covers. It was too cold, even though Alec was as warmly clothed as he could be. Hell, he was even wearing multiple pairs of socks to bed. He got cold easily, something he tried to fix with the sweaters and sweatshirts he constantly wore. His parents always kept the temperature at 73, and it stayed there most of the time. Of course, when they were away, Jace and Isabelle always turned it down even further – in the mid sixties, at the very lowest, and sadly nothing Alec ever said or did would change that. Even the carpet was cold – and it was the nice kind of carpet that you could sleep on if you wanted too – the soft kind that felt nice against your bare feet when you walked on it.

As he passed a mirror in the hall, he barely noticed his reflection, save for the thought that he needed a haircut soon. When he stepped into the kitchen, Isabelle seemed to share in that belief.

"Alec! What happened to your hair?" She shrieked, whipping around in an exaggerated double take. "You look like a Bill Kaulitz wannabe."

"Who?" he mumbled, going for the fridge and grabbing a bagel. He put it in the toaster and sat on one of the kitchen stools.

"Never mind, I forgot that you're ignorant of the world. Basically, your hair looks like shit."

"Thanks, Izz."

"Oh, you know what I mean," she huffed. "Get it cut or at least do something with it, please." She shook her hair out of her face and the gold colored bracelets encircling her wrists clinked together as she raised her coffee mug to her lips. She looked as put together as ever, her hair, make up, and outfit looking perfect. But then again, that was the norm for Isabelle.

He shrugged in response, going for the bagel as it popped up. He wrapped it in a napkin and turned around to see the swish of black hair as Isabelle was leaving and –

Jace without a shirt. He was walking towards the fridge, nodding to Alec in greeting.

Of course, he'd seen Jace without a shirt before, but it was still a little bit awkward to turn around and see the object of his affections missing an article of clothing. Alec flushed and looked away, grabbing the peanut butter in an attempt to look occupied, but he could still hear a faint chuckle from behind him. His face turned redder, and he finished preparing his breakfast, leaving the jar open on the counter as he left the room.

He was still uncomfortable when it came to Jace, even though he would come downstairs every morning without a shirt, looking absolutely amazing even though it was first thing in the morning. So Alec would turn away with the blush covering his face and Jace would start another day just like any other: completely oblivious.

But Alec was fine with that. He wouldn't be with Jace, but nobody else was, either. Jace would date, hook up, whatever, but he wouldn't get attached. Maybe –

No, Alec wouldn't allow himself to think about that. That would give him hope; false hope, hope that would turn around and stab him the second anything happened. So Alec just settled for being the best friend and not messing up anything: his friendship with Jace, his relationships with his teammates, the pride and love his parents had for him – he wasn't going to just throw it all away for a crush.

Even though Alec was almost sure it was more than a crush, he used that word because of its accuracy. Whenever he was around Jace, it was like being crushed, but in a good way. His breathing would become uneven, his stomach would clench, and he'd blush, looking away from the boy only to look back at him a few minutes later. He'd lived with Jace for years, and he still hadn't gotten used to these feelings he had for him. He knew why, of course: they were always together, the absolute best of friends, and it was no secret that Jace was nice to look at. But Alec didn't know why it wouldn't get better, or why he couldn't just get used to it. No, it was still the same as the first time he realized it; hell, it was way worse than it had been. Or better, depending on how you looked at it.

He usually saw it as worse, though, simply because of the problems it would cause. He was realistic, at least. He knew nothing would happen.

Now only if he could get his heart synched with his brain, he'd be perfectly fine.

"Find everything okay?" the cashier asked in a monotone that showed just how much she didn't care. Clary nodded anyway, giving a polite smile to the girl obviously bored out of her skull. She fussed with one of her snakebite piercings, though her hands were scanning the art supplies and pushing buttons on the register. Her tongue was probably behind it. Clary shivered; she'd never seen why anyone would want to get piercings anywhere other than their ears, certainly not their navel, eyebrow, nose, lips, or tongue. It had to hurt, and it didn't look good on everyone. It barely looked acceptable on anyone.

Clary handed over a five dollar bill and a few ones, eager to leave the company of the store's employee. She looked over her shoulder, reassuring herself with the fact that Simon was still there, poring over the inside cover summary of some book. In a minute, she joined him at the entrance and they left together.

Simon nodded to her bag. "So, what'd you get?"

"Oh, just this book I heard about. It's called the Hunger Games," she told him in an offhanded voice. "They were raving about it online."

"Sounds good," her best friend trailed off in a way that signaled his attention was being drawn by something else. Clary followed his gaze and asked him, "Is that Isabelle Lightwood?"

"Yeah, I think it is." Simon seemed a bit uncomfortable. "She's with that guy, Melvin or something. I don't get what she sees in him. He's a total ass, and what's with the dye job?"

Clary shrugged. "I dunno, he's got that accent, and he's pretty smart. Why do you care? You have a girlfriend, remember?"

Simon just shook his head and mumbled under his breath, something his friend didn't catch. She knew not to press the issue; it was better and less awkward that way. He wouldn't want to talk about it, and if she asked he'd just get upset.

Clary knew it was time for a change in subject so she asked him, "So, did you get the math homework? I have no idea what it's supposed to be about."

"It's simple, Clary. The problems are just proving things are true and using them to get values for the variables," he told her, in complete nerd mode. A smile was on his face, though, and it told her how grateful he was for the distraction from the girl they'd seen. "You just have to look at the figure, what you know, and see what theorems you have that help you prove what you need to prove. I'll help you with it and show you what I mean when we get back to Luke's, okay?"

She nodded and they left the mall, getting to their bus on time. They sat down together and looked out the grimy window, their conversation light and teasing as Simon asked her what she was doing in art class and she told him, following up with questions about his computer science classes. She loved the ease and familiarity they talked to each other with that stemmed from their years of close friendship. The girls at school had grown out of everything she was interested in, taking up cheerleading or getting further into a sport. She watched anime and read comics and manga while their favorite shows were on MTV and the only reading material they frequented were gossip and fashion magazines. All her girl friends were gone by the time she reached fourth grade, and her introvert nature didn't help in making new ones.

So she stuck with Simon, who'd been her friend since her mom had them move into the city after her father died. His mother was the first person they met, being a neighbor and the two women had hit it off. So by association their children spent a lot of time together as well. Though they themselves had moved from Legos and coloring books to Dungeons and Dragons and art classes at Tisch, their friendship had remained the same, if not getting better, over the years. His family was like her own family: Rebecca and Mrs. Lewis – Simon's sister and mother. They were like sister and brother, so close, doing everything together.

She blinked as he waved his hand in front of her face, shaking her out of her reverie. "Clary? Are you even listening?"

"Of course I am," she told him, smiling apologetically. "This stuff is just over my head is all. I'm glad you like it, though."

He turned his head as the bus slowed, tugging on her arm, reminding her that it was their stop.

Isabelle giggled at something Meliorn had said. She assumed it was a joke from the way he smiled at her as he said it, though she didn't get it at all. It was something to do with his cosplay thing and his cosplay friends. The most positive reaction she'd had towards it was when he asked her if he wanted to come to one of the conventions with him, and showed her a few costume options. They were all just her style: totally badass, inherently sexy, that accentuated her curves, her height, and set off her pale skin.

"So then Kyle – you know Kyle, right?" he asked her, continuing one of his stories with the mention of one of their classmates. She knew Kyle, all right. He was always at the best parties, working the dark emo boy exterior and being fawned over by lesser beings. He had an air about him, something that made him seem completely different than anyone she'd ever known. Pity he was gay, though she was glad he'd rubbed off on Meliorn. The boy could work with hair dye.

She nodded in response to his question, her hand in his as they walked through the mall. They were there for both of them, which was a first for Isabelle; usually she'd have to drag her dates into stores nearly kicking and screaming – well, more like sulking and moping, but still. Meliorn didn't mind, seeing as he cared about his appearance as well as hers. He wasn't one to try the 'just rolled out of bed' look.

Meliorn got so animated when he talked about cosplay. Anyone who listened could tell just how much he loved it and the friends that joined him as he went on with a story that they probably didn't get the point of. It was passion, she knew, passion that she felt when his lips were on hers, when his hands were running through her hair.

He said it was like an escape from the world, something that inspired him.

Isabelle wished she had something like that. For her, she just had school, volleyball, and a number of flings. Guys she dated knew they wouldn't last very long, but they still acted like they thought they had a chance, and she was good at sports, but she didn't love it.

That was what drew her to Meliorn. While he was bored with the things normal people loved, he was so different and so happy about things no one else saw as worth their time. Isabelle knew she would regret breaking up with him when she did, but she decided to wait until they actually broke up until she thought of that. It was going to happen, she knew, but she was content with spending time with him for now.

Of course, there was also the superficial appearance and the physical attraction she'd miss. But attraction was easy to come by.

This was Isabelle Lightwood, after all.

"Sweetheart, stop biting your pen. It's going to break and you'll get ink in your mouth," Magnus told his sister, taking the pen from her. She huffed at him and grabbed a new one, holding it in her mouth just to spite him. He grinned. "So what do you need help with?"

"I can't remember this Latin. It's supposed to be pretty easy vocabulary because of all the other languages that come from it, but it's hard anyway," Camille told him. "How am I supposed to know that onus and oneris are both forms of burden, and that virga means stick?" She was glaring at her book when she heard a muffled laugh come from her brother. When she looked up at him he was doubled over. "What?"

"I remember that chapter," he gasped, "and it was the funniest thing I read freshman year. I suppose you won't have trouble remembering big and great?"

She grinned. "Magnus, isn't it?"

"See, you found a way to remember that one. Now, look at the others and find ways to laugh at them. You're older than I was when I was in Latin I. You'll be fine," he told her, finally able to reign in his laughter.

She looked back at her textbook, asking him, "So why aren't you studying? Still got that headache?"

He shook his head. "No, I just don't care. I know all the stuff anyway; you just need to pay attention in class and you don't even have to study."

"Speak for yourself, freaking genius," Camille muttered angrily.

He tilted his head, asking her, "So you need help studying? I bet you know more than you admit. I'll prove it." He took the book from her, ignoring her protests with a smile on her face. "Mkay, first word: magnus."

xxlifeinwordsxx - I'm glad you like it. I get what you mean, it was a little fast before. I've tried to expound upon some things, but it remains my weakness. Tell me how I did? I'm glad you like the dialogue - it's one of my favorite parts of writing this. Thanks so much for reviewing!

Patricia Sage - Magnus is quite happy you remembered him and his love for sparkles. Both he and I are glad you're looking forward to more! :D

ChampionShoes - You already love it? I'm honored! I hope this chapter is as good as the last one!

Bookworm24601 - Thank you for your review, darling. I certainly hope you keep reading!

And everyone who's read and hasn't left a review - thank you as well! I've been getting a lot of story alert notifications, and I love you all! And of course, I know ONE of you who isn't reviewing, because you came right to me after you read it, lol.

Thanks so much once again, lovelies. Review? Magnus uses all the glitter he can get his hands on, and reviews give him that ^.^