**I don't own the characters of The Mortal Instruments or plot line at all. I'm borrowing the characters and will return them safely. The story line of this fanfiction belongs to pluviophile 2013, and please do not recopy or take idea without asking.**

.o.O.o.

The quiet monotonous beeping of the telephone droned on and on, but Clary didn't bother to get up and do anything about it. She was sprawled on the couch in the living room, and her arm was lazily drawn across her stomach as she stared at the television, trying to get some entertainment out of the popular TV show Wipeout. She didn't really find it funny (okay, secretly she did, but she refused to admit it). It was a lazy day. Jocelyn had to work. Clary didn't mind having the house to herself with her both her family members gone, but Jocelyn was always fretting about leaving Clary alone. It was the one thing that they constantly argued about. Clary completely understood her mother's momma bear instinct, but it got annoying once in awhile and overbearing. She was fine. It wasn't like if she fell, she wouldn't be able to get up. Clary was capable of taking care of herself. Jocelyn always claimed she wasn't ready for Clary to 'leave the nest'. And it had taken a whole lot of begging and convincing and whining until Jocelyn finally did leave. And now, Clary sat curled up on the sofa with a blanket and Wipeout. The phone trilled again, making Clary groan as she threw her head back to the pillows. It was probably Jocelyn. Again. After awhile, the phone finally died down, leaving Clary in silence aside from the roaring TV. She sat quietly, enjoying the silence.

A knock on the doorbell jolted Clary from her brief state of peace. She hesitated, debating whether to answer or not. She sucked in a breath, heart pounding. The knock sounded again, loud in the dimly lit living room. Quietly, Clary forced herself up before slowly and painstakingly taking the trek to the front door. Her feet screamed at her to sit, and her head agreed, mainly by making her world spin. Quietly, Clary grasped onto the door frame, sucking in a big breath as she struggled to steady herself before opening the door.

In front of her was the most handsome, attractive boy she had ever seen in her life. A pair of sharp, gold eyes met her green ones steadily. The boy towered over her by a good couple inches or so. His facial features were sharp and defined, and he had gold hair that fell into his eyes, curling softly just behind his ears. He wore a tight t-shirt which showed off his chiseled chest, and Clary abashedly looked down, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. Here she was in a yellow t-shirt advertising a band she didn't even like and she wore jeans that sagged in weird places. She felt completely underdressed compared to him. He. Was. Hot. Was he an angel?

"I beg your pardon?" it only took a moment for Clary to realize she had just said her thoughts out loud (about, being an angel that is). She blushed furiously as she looked down, stuttering madly. She forced herself to look back up at him. There was a hint of smugness radiating off him, and a smirk was drawn onto his perfect face as he leaned against the doorway, waiting for her to respond. His eyes went up and down her as if he were looking over a geometry test, and Clary blushed furiously underneath his eyes before she forced herself to speak, her voice frighteningly small.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Oh, but you said it." His voice was smoking, low and dead sexy.

"There is such a thing called lying. Maybe you should look it up in the dictionary," Clary shot back, but the lie burned off her tongue. She was not denying that he was the most beautiful human she had ever encountered in her short sixteen years of life. Maybe he was an angel here to steal her away from earth and take her to heaven.

"Oh ho ho, aren't you feisty?" he leaned back, inspecting her quietly, gold eyes running up and down Clary's face. She blushed. She had nothing to offer him. She wasn't pretty, and she had definitely not 'filled in' yet. To top that, she had side effects from chemotherapy and looked like a normally proportioned person with a balloon for a head.

"What do you want?" Clary asked sharply, crossing her arms across her chest as she watched the boy carefully, arching an eyebrow at him. So arrogant and confident. Sometimes Clary wished she was able to carry herself with that amount of confidence he had. Right now, her insecurity and self esteem was rock bottom down at the dark depths of the ocean.

"Yeah, I'm the new neighbor. I just moved here with my family. I was wondering if you had any tape." Tape? Out of everything a neighbor needed, which usually consisted of perishables like food, he needed tape?

"Tape?" Clary echoed incredulously. The golden-haired boy's eyebrows seemed to disappear from underneath his bangs as he rose them at Clary.

"Do I need to say it again?"

"No, I heard you the first time. Just… just hang on." Clary turned on her heels and swept the house, trying to find tape. She couldn't find anything in these boxes. Panic swooped over her. Jocelyn had been using tape last night… maybe… she made her way over to the kitchen and searched madly in all the drawers, nearly chopping her fingers off as she opened and closed them. Her head was beginning to spin, making the world seem suddenly quiet and vivid and hurtful all at the same time. Clary hurriedly grasped the counter, her fingernails digging into the edge as she supported herself, breathing in and out slowly, yoga breaths as her mother called them, willing the world to calm down. Who cared if there was a cute boy watching her? She didn't want to pass out on him. Finally, her vision cleared slightly, although her head was pounding. She searched one last drawer and sighed with relief as soon as she caught sight of the tape, sitting innocently in the drawer. She swooped it up and steadied herself against the hard counter then the wall. Making her way back to the boy with wobbly legs, Clary felt like jello. But it was worse. She was exhausted. She felt a bit disgusted with herself that she could barely walk from the kitchen to the front door, but it was a side effect of dying. Weakness and exhaustion.

"Here," Clary held out her arm weakly to the boy, silently begging him to take the tape. Her hand trembled with the effort of holding up, and she felt like she would collapse from exhaustion. Clary sucked in another breath, willing herself to breathe as she waited on Jace, the world beginning to spin faster than necessary. He arched a perfect eyebrow at her before taking the tape. But he just tossed it into his free hand before gripping her wrist. His grasp wasn't hard, but he squeezed slightly, making Clary stumble slightly as she supported most of her weight on the wall.

"Cold," he said, feeling her wrist. Yes, it was frighteningly cold. His hand felt warm on her skin, and she shuddered involuntarily. Clary's green eyes met his, and she bashfully pulled her hand away and hugged it to her chest.

"Um, I'm Clary."

"Jace."

"Is that short for something like Jonathon? Or is it just a tough name that you gave yourself, like some guys call themselves 'Snake' or 'Rock'?" Clary put one hand on her hip as she swayed, struggling to meet his eyes, but due to his height, maybe nine inches in difference, he just smirked at her, and she could only see up his nose.

"No, it's not short for anything," Jace replied, brushing off his shirt with a flick movement of his wrist. He eyeballed her suspiciously, and his scrutinizing eyes made Clary feel rather intimidated as she shrunk back slightly. "What's 'Clary' short for? Shorty?" A jolt of anger ran through her body as he said the infuriating pet name. She stomped her foot indignantly, a wave of rage shooting off through her body.

"No." Jace raised an eyebrow at her. "It's short for Clarissa." She put emphasis on her name, and Jace fought back a laugh as he looked at her. Frowning, Clary opened her mouth to say something else before he cut in yet again.

"It still doesn't change the fact that you're short… Shorty." Clary scoffed, no longer able to come up with a good comeback. She probably did look short at the moment with her all too long pair of flannel pajama pants. And to top it off, Clary had her strange pixie cut, which made her look like a faerie. Just her luck. Clary knew her face was a blazing red color from embarrassment, but she didn't say anything, just gave him a look.

"Look, Jace. I have to go," she replied, moving towards the door in hopes of closing it. Jace took a step back, a small smirk dancing on the corners of his lips.

"Hey, you're right. Maybe 'Shorty' isn't the right nickname for you." Clary felt Jace's eyes move over her again and again, and her legs felt like jello. His eyes were so… she couldn't even begin to fathom how they looked her over. Curiously and openly, like he wasn't afraid to be caught staring. "Maybe Merida."

"Merida?" Clary echoed, confused.

"Yes, you know, the princess from Brave?" Jace asked impatiently. "You're like a millennial Princess Merida." Clary silently wondered how even Jace knew about princesses. He didn't seem to be the type. Clary kept that thought to herself.

"No, I don't know."

"Wow. You should see it sometime. Brave."

"Umm, okay?"

"Right now."

Clary did a double take. "Excuse me?"

"You and me. Come on. I live like, fifty yards away from you." Clary was about to point out that his estimate wasn't exactly accurate, but she didn't say anything. A hot boy just asked her to watch a movie with him at his house within five minutes of meeting. Was this a joke? Clary pinched herself to make sure she was awake. A dull pain shot down the lengths of her arm as he clipped fingernails dug into the skin. Yep.

"I just met you." Clary peered outside the curtains to see the movers unpacking more stuff and hauling boxes from trucks. He just moved here and wanted to watch a movie with her what the heck.

"And?"

Clary was silent. Jace grinned relentlessly at her. She eyed him carefully, squinting slightly to take in the sight of him. The sun outlined his body and made his hair glow like a halo around the rest of him. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his jeans, and his gold flecked eyes watched her carefully. "Alright. Just let me put something on."

She didn't want to go out and look a mess, not that she didn't already. Her skin was a staggering pale color, and she looked like a ghost— a result from refusing to get sun. "You look fine. Come on." Jace beckoned towards her, and Clary slowly walked towards him, throwing on a pair of flip flops. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she gulped, not really believing that this was happening. No way. She let out a slow breath, a small smile coming across the side of her mouth before she followed Jace, pulling out her phone to text her mom.

"Hang on, gotta tell my mom where I'm going." She heard Jace mutter back something about how it was just next door, but she didn't pay any mind to him, trying to ignore him but it was rather hard, his unfamiliar mint scent coming off him in waves. She was uncertain about what her mother would have to say about the situation, and she frowned, biting her lip as she texted her.

Going next door. ~C

Her phone binged a couple seconds later.

Be careful. ~Mom

Oh, and Clary keep your phone on. I'll be checking on you soon. ~Mom

Please keep the phone not on silent but vibrate so you can hear it. ~Mom

I love you. ~Mom

Clary smiled.