Clary sits up in bed, breathing heavily. She's been having that dream every night for the past week, and all because she'd heard one of his songs on the radio. When she looks around, an realizes that she's in her bedroom, she relaxes and falls back into her abyss of pillows. Clary can't shake the feeling that she's searching for something she can't reach. She doesn't want to think of Jace, or how he left her there in that hallway, not knowing it was the last time she would see or speak to him again. Clary reluctantly threw the covers off of her, and sat on the edge of her bed. She looked at the clock perched on her nightstand, 4:12 it flashed, and she groaned. Clary closed her eyes, as her door opened. "Clarissa," Isabelle's voice rang through the room. "I told you to be ready for 4:30."

Clary looked at Isabelle confused. "You told me no such thing, in fact, I didn't even talk to you last night," Clary pointed out, as Isabelle handed Clary a Styrofoam coffee cup. Clary took it, gratefully. "Well, either way, get moving," Isabelle ordered, as Clary stood up. Isabelle pushed Clary in the direction of her bathroom. "Clothes, Iz, I need clothes," Clary mumbled with her eyes half closed. "Oh, that's right, I talked to your Mom last night," Isabelle said, taking a drink from her own coffee. "Why would you do that?" Clary asked, as she grabbed a t-shirt from her closet. "Because, we're going to Los Angeles, to look at apartments? Ring a bell?" Isabelle asked. Clary, Isabelle and Simon had graduated from high school that year, and had all gotten accepted to college in Los Angeles. Simon would be gong to a different one than Isabelle and Clary, but at least they would be living together. "Is that why my Mom was in here, stuffing things into my suit cases last night?" Clary asked, still only half awake. "I'd say yes," Simon interjected, as he walked into the room. "You gave her the coffee, right?" Simon asked Isabelle, who nodded. Clary locked the bathroom door, and got dressed, and did all that fun morning stuff, before coming back out. Clary had decided to wear a pair of denim shorts, and a loose-fitting black and white stripped shirt. "Our flight leaves at five-forty-five," Isabelle warned. "So make it snappy."

Clary grabbed her purse, and stuffed her phone, keys, book, headphones, and wallet inside, pulling it over her shoulder. They had bought an apartment in L.A. But, they wouldn't be coming back to New York, and their parents had promised to have all their things shipped to them. If that makes any sense. But, that was Maryse and Jocelyn for you. Clary slipped on her green sneakers, and grabbed her one giant suitcase, along with her duffle bag. "Ready?" Simon grinned. "Ready." Clary replied.


The plane ride had been long, and so had the security process before boarding. It was official; Clary hated flying. Simon stretched, as they stood outside of the airport, stretching. "Isn't this going to be great?" He asked. "The three of us living together? The Three Musketeers," Simon put his arms on Clary and Isabelle's shoulder. Clary laughed. "Really, Si? The Three Musketeers?" Clary asked, as Isabelle tried to wave over a taxi. The taxi pulled up, and popped the trunk for them. The three of them somehow made each of their suitcases into the trunk, but unfortunately for Simon and Clary, the rest of the stuff had to be squished into the backseat, along with the two of them. There was so much stuff on top of Clary, you couldn't see her. Isabelle gave the taxi driver the address of the apartment, as she read them off of her phone. The taxi driver was an old, greying man with a scruffy beard. Whenever he laughed, he would have a coughing fit afterwards.

He pulled up at the curb outside of a gorgeous apartment that was within walking distance from the beach. "Izzy? Are you sure this is the right address?" Simon inquired, as he looked out the window. "Of course it is," Isabelle snapped. Maryse had the money for nice things, so she wouldn't let any of her children live in some dumpy apartment in the bad end of town. No way.

Simon stepped out of the taxi, and he popped his head back in. "Clary, you coming?" He asked. "I can't move, Simon; there is about thirty pounds worth of crap sitting on top of me!" Clary exclaimed. "Oh, yeah, sorry," Simon said, as he shut his door. In a moment, Clary's door was open, and all the luggage that had been leaned against the window, fell over, onto the pavement. Simon pulled the rest of the bags off of Clary, and she was finally able to get out. But, one problem; her legs were numb, so when she tried to stand up, she fell over. Isabelle shoved some money at the taxi driver, as Clary finally stood back up, her legs tingling. She grabbed some of the bags that were still on the ground, and made her way to the trunk, where her suitcase was. She pulled it out, but as it seemed, her mother had packed just about everything Clary owned, and she could barely pull it, along with all the other bags she held. Isabelle pulled out a set of keys from the mailbox, and shoved a key into the lock, turning it, and when she heard the click, she pushed open the door. Isabelle stepped inside, followed by Simon, and lastly Clary, who crashed to the floor with the weight of the bags. Simon held out a hand to her, through his laughter, and she swatted it away, standing up on her own.

"Okay, so, there's three bedrooms, and one bathroom," Isabelle cringed at the last part. "One?" Simon asked, raising an eyebrow at Isabelle, as Clary became instantly jealous. Why couldn't she do the eyebrow?

Clary started off down the hall, looking for the bedrooms, as Isabelle and Simon argued about the bathroom. All the bedrooms looked the same; a window, but each with a different view, a twin bed, each with different bedframes, and a small, wooden desk against one of the walls. Clary chose the bedroom with a view of a garden. There was a windowsill just big enough for Clary to sit on. She knew instantly that she would be sitting up there later, drawing the flowers in the garden. This room, unlike the other two, had a daybed. One of the other rooms had just a plain bedframe, and the last one had a canopy bedframe-perfect for Isabelle. "Clary!" Simon said, as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "What are you doing?"

Clary looked at him, trying to make her self seem taller. "Claiming this room as mine," Clary said. "You can't do that," Simon said. "And why not?" Clary asked. "Should I pee on everything to mark my territory?" Clary tried to raise an eyebrow at him, but both went up, and Simon laughed. "Clary," Isabelle whined. "I wanted first pick." Clary sighed, and motioned to the room across the hall from hers. "That room has a canopy bed," Clary pointed out, and Isabelle's obsidian eyes widened. "Really?" She asked, as she darted across the hall to see if Clary was lying. "This one's mine," Isabelle declared. Simon groaned. "And I didn't even get to pick." He left Clary's room, as Clary sat on the edge of her bed.


"Clary, come on," Isabelle said, trying to pull Clary into a clothing store. Again. They had unpacked, and then Isabelle suggested they go walk around, familiarize themselves with the area, which seemed like a good idea. But, after Simon got sidetracked, and wondered into a videogame store, and Isabelle began pulling Clary into various clothing stores. "No, Izzy," Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "One more," Isabelle tried to negotiate. "No," Clary repeated. "You know I hate shopping."

Isabelle looked defeated. "What if I take you to a bookstore?" Isabelle offered, and Clary thought about it for a moment. One of her mother's close friends-Luke-did own a bookstore, and according to her Mom, it was close to where she was living. "Only Luke's," Clary said decidedly. Isabelle grinned, and pulled her into a bookstore that had a sign overhead; Garroway Books. A bell chimed as Isabelle pushed open the front door, and she let Clary go. A shop keeper came out of the backroom, and smiled at them. He had greying hair, and glasses. He wore some old-looking jeans, and a flannel shirt. Typical Luke attire. He hadn't changed one bit since visiting with her and her Mom at Christmas. "Luke," Clary said, and threw herself into his arms. He stood still-probably from surprise-but hugged her back after a moment. "Clary, what are you doing here?" He asked, as Clary pulled away from him. She smiled at him. "I live here."

"You live in L.A?" Luke asked, looking from her, to Isabelle. Clary nodded excitedly, as Isabelle flipped through the page's a children's picture book. "With Simon, too," Clary replied. "We all got accepted to college here," Luke smiles at her, as she skips over to the fiction section. "Where is Simon?" Luke asked. "Video game store. Where else?" Clary says, as she sits on the counter, where the cash register sits. Clary crossed her legs over one another, watching Isabelle flip through a variety of books. Luke chuckled in a low tone. "If you ever get bored, you could come give me hand here," Luke said. "Help is always nice."

Clary nodded. "Clary," Isabelle grabbed her wrist. "Simon just texted me, we need to go," Isabelle held her phone in her free hand, as she gripped Clary's wrist tightly. "Okay. Bye Luke," Clary smiled, and gave him a small wave before she was being dragged through the door.

"What? Why did we need to go?" Clary asked, as they walked down the sidewalk, the sun beating down on them. "I don't know, he just said to meet him at the apartment," Isabelle shrugged. "It's probably just a new videogame he wants us to watch him play," she rolled her eyes.

"No-he wants you to watch him play it, you know he likes you, and you like him, too, why make it so-" Clary was cut off when she walked into someone. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry," the voice said, and Clary recognized it almost instantly. She looked up, to be met with the gold eyes that she'd always thought were contacts, and the golden hair that she always thought was just too golden to be real. "Clary?" He asked, and Clary felt herself wanting to back away. Isabelle was looking from Clary to him, in a confused, yet accusing manner. "Is this-?" Isabelle asked. Clary swallowed, and nodded.

The next thing Clary knew, she was being pulled away from him, in the opposite direction. Isabelle's grip was strong, and Clary didn't dare try to stop her. Not that she wanted to, the last person she wanted to see was him. She didn't think she could handle being civil with him, not after the way he left her, without a goodbye, even.


"Guys, check this out!" Simon exclaims when Isabelle shuts the door behind herself, pushing Clary forward. "I got that manga we've been missing. See, Clare?" Simon says, showing the manga to Clary. She nods, but isn't really comprehending any of the words coming out of Simon or Isabelle's mouths.

"What's wrong with her? She looks like a zombie," Simon remarks. "We were on our way back here to meet you," Isabelle explained, in a sort of whisper tone. "And she literally ran into him." Simon frowned, and held the manga book to his chest. "We can't let her see him," Simon says. "I know that!" Isabelle hissed at him. "Do you not remember how torn up she was when she found out he was gone? She was a mess; they were best friends," Simon looked angry, as Isabelle spoke.

Simon grabbed Clary by the shoulders, and shook her, but she didn't respond. "Clarissa, snap out of it!" Simon said. Clary couldn't make her mind start working, she couldn't make any actual sentences form, and she couldn't even make a syllable come out. She felt as useless as she probably looked. And all because of a guy that had been out of her life for almost four years. "I need to-" Clary didn't finish her sentence, before bolting to her new room, that was as clean and bare as it ever would be.

Clary wanted to break something, as tears found their way down her cheeks. The tears burned like fire, and she could have sworn that they were fire. She didn't really have anything to break. Clary had never found a use for a load of possessions. She could always burn her sketch book. She could watch the pages turn to black ash, as flames devoured the book. But then again, she would be angry with herself for burning it later.

Clary had searched every where for him. Clicked on any webpage that the internet showed her that had the name. His name. She hadn't found anything, until he started making music. Now, he was famous. All it had taken was one song for Clary to have him re-enter her life, just when she thought she might actually be able to put him out of her mind for good. She still had a crush on him, it was like those re-lighting candles, that no matter how many times you blow them out, one always stays lit. And it made her want to rip out her hair.

Clary had never been able to handle her emotions well, being over-sensitive never helped anything. But then again, she couldn't recall a time when his ability to look dead and lifeless had ever helped him, other than when he was embarrassed. Clary flopped down on the bed, not worrying about messing anything up, she wasn't worried about anything, really. She was trying so hard to shut out her emotions, so hard. It just wasn't working. Clary groaned in frustration, as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I hate him," she muttered to herself, over and over, and over again. Isabelle had found a way to open the door, even though it was locked; Clary didn't recall locking it in the midst of her mental breakdown. She hadn't cried once when Jace left, but she had stopped drawing, and shut everyone out. Clary figured it was her punishment, now, that she was crying like she was insane.

"Clary," Isabelle's voice was smooth, and even, and clam, as she tried to console Clary. "Stop crying; he isn't worth it, and you know it."

Somewhere inside of herself, Clary found it to stop crying. She brushed away the tears, and looked up at Isabelle from the spot where she'd sprawled herself on the bed. "I don't know what I'd do without you," Clary said, as Simon leaned his body against the door frame. "You all good?" He asked. Clary nodded, as she sniffed. "You guys are right. He isn't worth it, he hasn't been since he left."


Alright, should I continue this story? Or just forget about it?

Review, or don't. It's up to you:)