Clary POV
Finishing dinner, Clary scurried away to my room, leaving the boys to clean up the mess she had made. Oops. Her fingers itched to hold a pencil instead of a chopstick the whole night and finally she would be given release. Snatching at her sketchbook, peppered with doodles and notes from Simon and Izzy, a lead pencil soon found its way to the paper, moving under the control of Clary's fingers. Short, sharp flickers of movement across a once flawless page. The white was soon blemished by finger marks and smudges but in the centre of all the mess was a god. Jace stared back at her, his signature smirk plastered on his stupidly attractive and arrogant face. Clary's Jace. She smiled to herself as she gently closed the book, falling asleep with her face marked by pencil and a grin.
Jon POV
Jace hummed a merry little tune as they washed at the pile of used dishes that littered the kitchen bench. It sounded like one of the old 60's shows, the overly happy family and the small 1st world problems they faced. Jon grimaced at the thought. He was happy, there was nothing wrong with that. Reaching for the last dish, Jon sighed as his best friend of over a third of my life ruffled his hair, his way of saying goodnight; Jace was staying over again. Their mum had no problem with it and in all honesty, Jon didn't feel like deteriorating his fuel on driving him to the other side of town, wasting his money and precious beauty sleep. Jace sauntered up the stairs and rounded the corner towards the spare bedroom. Okay, so it was Jace's bedroom and no one said otherwise in this family.
Jace POV
Jace's feet hit the carpet in even, soft footfalls, making his way toward the sleeping redhead. God, this was so paedophilic! He reached her bedside, smiling down at the angelic Clary before him. Her fiery curls wound around her face in sleep, tangling them through the spiral bound sketchbook she held so preciously in her hands. Silently, Jace reached toward it, tugging it away from her peaceful body. He wasn't going to look, honest to god, but the thought of seeing Clary from another side was too good to resist. He flicked through, page after page of meaningless drawings; Jon mid-air, back flipping off the pool edge, Jocelyn, her graceful hands wrapped around the neck of Valentine, his piercing eyes staring directly into Jace's skull. Quickly scrolling through a few more of her family, Jace stopped on the one that looked most like the fantasy of a young girl. Intertwined hands. No scars on the hands, perfectly rounded nails and slender fingers. Jace let loose a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Perfection. Turning to the next page, Jace allowed himself to grin in the light of the moon, his only light for this magnificent art showcase. It was like a mirror had been placed in his hands. Jace saw only himself. Clary stirred, rolling onto her side to see him standing before her. The emerald eyes he adored so much bleary with sleep. The sketchbook slipped back a page as he sat beside her, leaning back on the wooden bedhead. Clary's fragile body tucked into his side, her hair tickling his chin as he rested his head atop of her own. The picture of the perfect hands before them.
"That's Izzy and Simon," she whispered hoarsely into his chest. Jace couldn't help but admit. She sounded sexy when she was sleepy. They stayed like that for a while, simply looking at the artwork, holding each other. Clary drifted off soon after, quiet snores, muffling in Jace's shirt, his hand drawing patterns along her arm and through her hair. Carefully, he slipped away from her, leaving his own note atop the cover of the sketchbook. He stood at the door, admiring his girlfriend before slipping into the darkness in the hall.
Clary POV
Clary awoke to sun streaming into her eyes. The curtain had been left open. Blinking hard to clear her eyes, she craned her neck towards the clock that sat atop her bedside table. 5:34am. Groaning in pain at the early hour, Clary rolled from her bed. Rubbing repeatedly at her swollen eyes, she raced to the bathroom in desperate need of a pee. She burst through the door, relieved herself and made her way to the mirror, taming her wild curls with a straightener; her sleek red hair fell past her lower back in a soft curtain of colour. Padding towards her bedroom, Clary pulled on tight blue jeans and a green long sleeve button down before yanking on a black leather hoodie and brown boots. Filling her schoolbag with the essentials, she reached for her sketchbook but noticed something just out of place. Through the swirls and coloured pictures of her cover, an elegant slanted writing mixed between the scrawl of her best friends. She smiled as she left for school, the words imprinting on her mind.
I can protect you from more than clowns. X – YGB
Your Golden Boy. Her Golden Boy.
Needless to say, the casual smile soon formed a fully-fledged grin as she raced for her metallic gold bike. Motorbike. Her first golden boy.
