The door is unlocked. Honestly, Jace, do you want to get murdered?
Taking a deep breath, I push it open. It's freezing inside, as if he was hoping to freeze to death while asleep. I kick off my shoes, treading cautiously through the house, acting like someone was going to jump out at me at every turned corner. Although, I wouldn't put it past Jace — if we were on good terms, that is.
The first level is empty, and immaculately clean. Only Jace would clean when he gets upset. I, on the other hand, would more likely throw plates at the walls.
Our bedroom door is wide open, the bed perfectly made, not even a crease in the blanket. I'm about to give up, presuming he isn't home, when I catch a glimpse of his golden hair as I begin to walk further down the hall. He's sitting between the wall and the bed, knees bent, head hanging low, his hands wound into his hair. His grip looks painful, as he mutters something under his breath. He doesn't see me and I know it.
It's now or never.
I walk quietly over to him, sinking down beside him onto the cold floor. Letting out a loud sigh, I say, "Life sucks, doesn't it?" I hope he doesn't pick up on the shakiness in my voice, the sharp intake of breath at the end of my sentence, the gloss-like quality to my eyes.
His body comes alive as if he's been shocked. His golden eyes search frantically around my body, like he doesn't believe I'm real. "Clary?"
"I prefer the Queen, but Clary will do." My voice is still wavering but slightly less than before.
His eyes light up — quite literally — turning a bright, polished gold. He wraps me into an air-depriving embrace. Unlike most people, Jace knows I won't break, that I can take whatever is thrown my way.
He's cute when he's happy.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he breathes into my neck. I gently rub up and down his back. He keeps repeating the words like a skipping record.
I let out a shaky breath, like I'm about to cry, but I come up dry. He breathes out, as if he's relieved, though I can still feel how tense he is.
"I'm sorry, Clary. I did everything wrong," he shakes his head, pulling away from me. There are bags under his eyes, his hair is messy, and not in that adorable I-just-woke-up way, more like I've-been-agressively-running-my-hands-through-my-hair-because-I'm-stressed-the-freak-out way.
I purse my lips, looking down at the floor. I don't know what to say, and it will only be worse if I look at him; those aureate eyes have the strangest hold over me.
I don't get to stare at the hardwood for long, though, as Jace's gentle, calloused hands bring my face up so that he can stare directly into my eyes. "You deserve so much more," he says softly. "Someone better than me."
"Call me stupid, but I don't want anyone else," I tell him without hesitation and without falter. It's the truest thing I could've said.
His expression is unreadable as he crashes his lips down onto mine. "I don't know why me," he says against my lips, "but I don't deserve you."
"Jace," I say exasperated with my husband's attempts to hide me away. "I saw it all, it's no use." I'm lying, but he doesn't need to know that. Frankly, I don't want to see it — any of it — I just don't want Jace to go into "overprotective" mode. It happened a few times before, and each time ended badly...for the other person involved. Like, for example, the paparazzi who was a little too pushy when trying to get a picture — that poor cameraman ended up with a broken nose.
Jace deflates, almost physically shrinking it seems. He runs a hand through his hair, stirring the golden curls. "I'm sorry..." he trails off, hiding his face into his hands. "This isn't what I wanted." I wish I could say I knew what he meant, but I really don't; there are so many reasons why he could be saying it, and not one of them would be too far of a stretch.
"Jace?" I ask cautiously. He could easily explode at any given moment as it's a frequent occurence when he's stressed, and I can tell that he's beyond stressed. He looks up, the light casting shadows over his face making his jawline sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced, his narrow mouth shadowed oddly.
"Hmm?" He hums, fighting to keep his eyes open.
I want to tell him to shut up, that it doesn't matter because I love him, but he won't listen, not when he's this tired. Trying to talk to him like this would do just as much good as having a conversation with a brick wall. "Never mind," I smile softly at him. "Come on," I put a hand on his back because, let's be real here, it would be pointless for me to try and not look ridiculous while resting my hand on his shoulder. "Lets go to bed."
Jace smirks at me, earning himself a smack on the back of the head, which involves me reaching up onto my tiptoes and stretching my arm as far as I can. I might as well be a midget. "To sleep, you dirty-minded idiot." I smile despite myself, shaking my head. He waggles his eyebrows at me, but it's half-hearted, I can tell from that look in his eyes. We aren't who we were, we aren't that happy couple anymore. I don't even know what we are.
"What's wrong?" Jace frowns at my expression. Have I stopped smiling? I didn't even notice it. I need these torturous thoughts to let me be, just for a little while — preferably the rest of my life.
I shake my head. "Nothing." Lie, lie, and lie some more. It used to be exhilerating, waiting to see if I'd get caught, to see if the person would catch on, to see if they'd see through me like they usually did. Now, it's a terrible habit that I can't seem to quit. Maybe if I lie just a little more, a little longer, things will get better, I used to think. I was so naive and stupid. If only people came with warning labels.
Jace holds me to him. The touch is foreign, and that fact alone makes me sad. He's gone enough that I'm not used to him holding me like this.
You could always go with him, a tiny, tentative voice in my head offers.
In theory it sounds good, like it would eliminate at least a thrid of the problems on our list, like some sort of magic solution. Yeah, right. We are not going down that road again.
I try to get comfortable in his hold, to no avail. Nothing, it seems, will soothe the restlesness I feel. I twist in his hold so that I'm facing him. All the stress lines are missing from his face, all barriers gone. I can almost convince myself he's the same person he was five years ago. I smile softly into the darkness, content to watch a small swatch of moonlight play flattering shadows across his Ken Doll face.
"Stop staring at me," he mumbles into the pillow.
"I'm gazing."
"It's creepy."
"It's romantic." I run a hand through his golden curls, the temptation finally getting too much. Jace's eyes open, resting instantly onto me.
"Romantic, huh?" His eyes sparkle. Jace props himself up onto his arm. His expression is one I'm unfamiliar with, and it sends a flare of emotion through me. I can easily pinpoint what emotion it was: sadness. "What if I told you," he whispers into my ear, his warm breath fanning across my skin, sending shivers rolingl down my shoulderblades in double time, "how much I missed you? How much I love you?"
Not nearly enough.
"I love you too."
The fabric of my cardigan is comforting against my skin. I don't want to get up, but I have this burning desire to be painting again, drawing — anything. I'm jumping at the opportunity, considering the will to do anything even remotely artistic has been maddeningly vacant from my life the past two weeks.
I give one last glance at my sleeping husband. His face is burried into the pillows; the only reason I know he's still alive is the fact that his snores are resonating throughout the whole room.
I bend over the edge of the bed, kissing the top of his head. I won't be seeing him for a few hours at the minimum. But it's nothing compared to the hundreds of hours I've spent without him. Or the hours I will spend without him. I can't bear to get too attached again, only to have him so brutally ripped from my arms. There's only two pitiful weeks before he leaves again. I don't know if I'll survive if I keep getting attached.
"Clary?" Simon sounds surprised.
I try to smile at him. There's nothing reinforcing it, though, and it falls flat as I hastily turn back to my painting.
"I brought coffee," Simon offers weakly, pushing his glasses up.
"Thanks."
The silence is tense, and by all means, it should be. Simon not only saw me at my worst, he saw me completely shatter on his doorstep. I wouldn't expect anything less from my best friend of over twenty years.
He clears his throat after a long, painfully silent two and a half hours. "How was — how is..." he can't bring himself to say his name. I can quickly see his brown eyes turn furious, his face full of colour with the anger that he's held back for so long. For me. I knew this would happen eventually, I just didn't want it to.
I swallow. "I don't want to talk about it." The tears sting my eyes, the canvas a blur as my hand shakes. It's a wonder I'm still holding back the busting dam.
It's a wonder I'm still with him.
Simon engulfs me in his arms as if it isn't the umpteenth time he's done so in the last five years. "Shh, Clary, please don't cry. I can't see you cry anymore." He pleads, but all he prevails in doing is breaking my resolve not to cry.
If only I hadn't found love where it wasn't supposed to be. It was never supposed to be the boy who made the redhead jokes, it wasn't supposed to be the boy with the golden aura, it wasn't supposed to be him.
As Simon holds me, the stiff couch beneath us, I wish more than anything that it was Jace wiping my face, whispering soothing words, his hand running up and down my back.
I try not to act as broken as I am for the remainder of time I have left with Jace. He shoots worried looks my way when he thinks I'm not looking, but I see them. I see every last one of them.
I throw myself into my art, just like I always tend to when I feel strong emotions I don't want to deal with. The way I tend to when I know he's leaving me again.
The paintbrush dancing across the canvas is the only calming thing I can think of, so I've been at the stuido for who knows how long, painting and painting and painting.
The smell of oil paint hangs heavy in the air. There's not a doubt in my mind that paint is on my face, and there's some on my jeans, some on my shirt. Nothing new.
What's new is the voice coming from the doorway. It's imposing. Not necessarily scary but demanding attention. "How long have you been here?"
I shrug my shoulders. "Four, five hours?"
He lets out a long breath, footsteps follwoing. He doesn't wrap his arms around my waist as some part of me wants him to, rather stands there watching me. "If it counts for anything, I don't want to leave you."
I nod my head. I cannot look at him. If I do, I fear he'll see all the past flashing across my face like a slideshow of some sort. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I spin around, plastering my best smile over my saddend features. "It's okay, Jace. This is what you love to do, I don't want to stop you."
I see hurt flit over his face, lingering longer than I would have ever expected in his tawny eyes. "Besides," I continue, "you'll be back in a month or so, and after that you won't have to go for a while." I pray I'm right.
It's him this time who nods his head.
"I love you, Clary."
I'm trying so desperately not to choke on my words. "I love you, too."
There is no parting embrace, no last passionate kiss shared, only the locking of gazes before he spins onto his heel, leaving me to my work.
I hear the front door swing shut, with much more force than necessary. A soft flinch is all I can muster at the loud, echoing noise. Despite myself, I find my hands pressed against the glass wall, looking out at the limo crowded by fans and papparazzi alike. His security team is keeping them at bay, using their bodies as shields. It's silly of me to hope he waves to me, mostly because the windows are one-way and no one can see inside.
Just when I'm about to resign, his head moves in my direction. His eyes seem to meet mine despite the fact he couldn't see me if he wanted to, face is mared by the angry expression. If I concentrate hard enough, I could swear that his eyes are glossy.
Then again, it could just be the glare of the bright New York sun.
I cannot begin to describe to any of you how many times I went back and re-wrote, and or edited this chapter. Huge thanks to iLoveMeSomeCaptainAmerica - My Beta - once again.
XXX
ThatBlondeALB: For now, the operative words there. iLoveMeSomeCaptainAmerica is one of my favourite authors on this site, as well. Love her story Hate, and Bruises - have you read them yet? If not, get on that while you wait for my updates!
AsraStar: Hope this curved your craving. :)
Luvmortalinstruments: Thanks!
gabergirl: They kind of talked. It was a short part, but soon there is going to be so much more Clace, you won't be able to handle the feels.
purple peace sign dolphin: I only hope to keep you interested throughout the rest of the story.
colorful565: I like the use of great(er) there. ;)
I'm A Writing Dreamer: Oh, I'm so not subtle - nor discreet - about my dealings with the Lord of Darkness himself. Never have been. I'm the exact same way, where if something is in Jace's PoV I want Clary's, vice versa. And to answer your question about which demons I've been in dealings with, hmm, well, quite a few. I sold my soul to Hades, though, if that helps. :)
thegirlwhowritesinthewind: I hope they can make-up, even though they already did. What I mean is, like, forever. If that makes any sense? Like for good. Ah, there, that makes sense.
amandaminrock: It's cool if you're evil. I'm evil, too, if you haven't already noticed.
Ads S: When I first started to write this, believe it or not, I had no idea - nor intentions - to make Jace a rockstar, considering in the majority of my other stories he is one. But, I'm glad I did. It allows me to explore more possibilities, as to how hard the relationship would be to maintain.
blossom146: Hope this chapter had enough drama for you.
Guest: I'm pretty sure I would have maimed Isabelle if I were Clary. But, I can see where Izzy was coming from, you know? I wouldn't want to see my best friend that upset over a guy, either, no way, never.
Guest: I'm the exact same way. I could read, and read, and read, some stories are so good. This is a Clace story, yes. They are going to stay together (they're married) but there is going to be quite a few obstacles for them. Who knows, though, sometimes you can't jump over the hurdles and instead run right into them and fall on your butt. It sucks, but life doesn't ever cut you a break sometimes.
Guest: Glad you liked it!
Guest: I hope this explained why she hasn't really been going to any of his shows. The problem is, that they can't necessarily do "normal" husband and wife things, because Jace is so famous. I agree with you. I should so wait for stories to be finished before reading them, otherwise I end up asking tons of question, too. :)
Helen: I wish I could update much more frequently, but, alas, school is always in the way. Not to mention I can't sit still very long. Nor do my creative juices flow like a waterfall every second of the day. :/ Which definitely sucks.
Giannacar: The feels are amazing, but sometimes they are just plain painful. Have you read the Infernal Devices? Clockwork Princess alone made me cry for hours. (I'm so dramatic, but I did cry.)
Guest: Here you go.
MI cra-cra: Jace is very committed to Clary, if only Clary knew...I once read this fanfic where Clace didn't have a happy ending, and I swear, I just sat, staring at the screen for a few minutes afterwards.
blubery: I can't take all these compliments I'm getting, oh my Lord. Aha. But thank you so much. I love my Beta's stories, too. If only she could update everyday. That would be amazing. Though, as you said, things always manage to get in the way and unfortunately, you can't blow off life. Not even for a little while.
Guest: I'm glad that Jace isn't being used for target practice anymore. Although, I don't know what to say on account of Isabelle's actions other than she hated seeing her best friend hurt.
Cheyashton: Nice profile picture, by the way! Wow, I can't believe this is one of your favourite stories already.
Guest: I'm evil like that - my stories just, kill everyone.
Guest: Here you go, feats your eyes upon the most recent update!
The next chapter will most likely be "Skipping Record" so look forward to that. ;) And I'm off once more to write.