Hey, guys. Midterm week is a lie. It's midterm life! Anyways, between studying I was able to crank this out. I hope you enjoy!
Jace looked at his brother with concern, wondering why his skin was so green as he stood at the door of their parent's home. "Alec, just walk in. It's not like they're going to kick you out." An indecipherable look flashed in Alec's blue eyes before he shoved through the old door, the hinges groaning in protest as they stepped inside. "My babies!" Maryse crooned as Jace and Alec stepped through the door. "Oh, let me get a look at you!" Jace shook his head, but allowed himself to be held at an arm's length next to Alec as their mother scrutinized their appearance. He was wearing a white button down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing his tanned, muscled arms. His jeans were dark, hanging low on his hips and his golden hair was a perfect tousle. Alec had opted for a crimson sweater and black slacks, surprisingly devoid of the holes that usually adorned Alec's apparel. Maryse patted their stomachs gently. "You boys are too thin. We'll fix that." Jace chuckled and placed a kiss on his mother's cheek, slipping past her to put down the cheese tray he'd brought.
"Jace, Alec," Robert greeted them with the stiff hugs he always gave, but they were warm and meaningful, so Jace always hugged him back, having been deprived of paternal love for his entire childhood. Alec's eyes shimmered lightly, and Jace's eyebrows furrowed as Robert patted his back, having a conversation with him too low for Jace to hear.
As he finally honed his ears in on Robert's words, a familiar smell filled the room. "Mom…" Jace said with alarm, heading toward the origin of the smell. "You didn't ask Iz to cook, did you?" Maryse's mouth fell open, and she rushed to follow Jace as he warily approached the kitchen.
"Fuck you, too, cookies!" they heard Isabelle yell as the fanned the smoke away from their faces. Isabelle was waving a towel in front of the oven, reaching in with an oven mitt to pull out the blackened desserts. "I followed the recipe to a T!" She groaned as Jace reached around her to turn on the hood vent and to open the windows. The acrid smoke slowly curled out into the cold air, leaving the kitchen with the stink of burnt cookies. Isabelle set the pan on the stove with a heavy sigh of defeat as Maryse moved to pat her back.
"Hey, look on the bright side, Iz," Jace said, an amused smile tugging at the edge of his lips, "at least nobody will have to pretend to enjoy your cooking." Both women shot him a glare, and Isabelle reached for the pan, picking up a charred snowman and chucking it in his direction. Jace couldn't contain his laughter as it hit the wall and didn't break. "Crisp," he mumbled as Isabelle poised to chuck another. "Stop, you're going to damage the goods!" He ducked around the hallway corner just as another cookie hit the wall behind where he'd been standing.
"Fuck you, Jace!" Isabelle screamed at his retreating figure. He walked into the living room and plopped down onto the couch next to Alec, accepting the beer he was offered. His brother raised an eyebrow as if to ask what all the ruckus was about, but Jace just shook his head, knowing Isabelle would be retelling the tale at least eight times over the course of the night. Instead, he reclined on the couch, tipping back his bitter drink as the sounds of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas echoed in the silence.
"But dad!" they heard Max's voice carry from down the hallway. "Why can't my girlfriend come? Izzy's friend is coming!"
Jace leaned closer to the door and hollered, "You don't need a special invitation for your hand, Max!" He heard Robert's throaty chuckle as their footfalls retreated.
"Who's Isabelle's friend that's coming?" Alec shrugged, immersed in the world of Whoville, mumbling something about the one he met at one of the races.
"Ahhh, Verlac's girl." Jace grinned a bit, thinking that this night just might be fun.
"Jonathon!" Clary heard her mother chastise as she stepped through the threshold of her childhood home. The white, Victorian-style home nestled in a cul-de-sac smelled of cinnamon and caramel as she rounded the corner. She found Johnny looking sheepish by the wrapped gifts beneath the tree, his shameful eyes continuing to dart in their direction. Clary giggle quietly to herself, unnoticed, as she took in the sight of her mother bustling about the kitchen, a ruffled apron tied around the front of her evening wear. She had a bit of flour smeared on her cheek and her hair, which was twisted into a knot and held with two pencils.
"Boy, what did I tell you?" her father said, heaving himself from his recliner and swinging Jonathon over his shoulder, earning a peal of delight. "Don't peek at the presents when your mother is around. Do it after she's asleep."
"Valentine…" Jocelyn warned, turning her sharp green eyes on her husband before catching a glimpse of Clary's fiery curls. Her father reached her first, wrapping his lanky arms around her slim frame. "Have you grown?" her father teased, stepping back to twirl her in a circle. No matter how old she got, she was still an eight-year-old with skinned knees in her dad's eyes.
Her mother was next, smiling as she enveloped her eldest child in a warm embrace. "Oh, Clary, dear, you smell a bit like motor oil. Were you with Sebastian today?" The question was innocent enough, but Clary could hear the disapproval dripping from her mother's tone. Though Clary knew her mother didn't like Sebastian, she never voiced it directly. It was usually found in her snide comments. Usually Clary would get upset and storm away, but now, after she could finally view her relationship from the other side, she could see how her mom had been right all along. He barely let her see her family. He belittled her. He abused her. He controlled her.
"No, mom. We broke up." Clary's voice didn't waver. She didn't sniffle. It didn't hurt her that her relationship was over. It was a relief. The relationship itself hurt worse than the breakup. Her mother shot a glare at Valentine, who had grumbled Merry Christmas to us. Clary found herself giggling at that statement, and her mother joined in. It was true. She hadn't spent Christmas with her family since her and Sebastian had been together.
Soon, her mother was shoving spoonfuls of food into her face, asking her to try all the dishes she made for the night. As Clary humored her mother by trying the stuffing and pasta salad, she watched her brother sneak behind Jocelyn and steal a finger full of cookie frosting. Clary winked at him, continuing to mumble her approval around mouthfuls of food.
"Clary!" Jonathon finally yelled, running dramatically at her with frosting on his nose. Before he reached her, Jocelyn swiped the sugary spread and popped it into her mouth.
"Caught," she muttered as Jonathon proceeded to launch himself into Clary's arms.
"I missed you so much!" He squeezed tightly around her neck and chattered excitedly about how awesome Christmas dinner with the Lightwoods would be.
This invitation had come about a week ago, after Clary was sneaking in from another late night with Jace. Isabelle had made amends with her family and wanted Clary to finally meet them all. Isabelle told Clary that she could bring her family, too, and that solidified plans. Now, Jocelyn was pulling a hot apple pie from the oven and shooing Clary upstairs to her room to change. "I bought you a new dress for the evening."
She looked down at the black velvet dress she had on, inquiring what was wrong with it? "Clary, you've had it since you were twelve." Clary sighed, shuffling slowly up the steps and slipping into the tiled shower. She scrubbed her body and hair quickly, wrapping herself in a fluffy white towel before stepping out of the steam. She leaned against the basin, swiping at the reflective glass with the edge of her towel.
The girl in the mirror was a stranger as Clary combed through her damp curls. She mimicked Clary's movements—the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the downward pull of her arm as she yanked a brush through her hair. She was so familiar on the outside, characterized by the same unruly red tendrils leaping like flames from her scalp, the same bright emerald irises circumscribed by a thin ring of darker green, the same slight pink lips cut with a deep cupid's bow, the same translucent skin dusted with auburn freckles her mother used to call angel's kisses. But she was so different.
She was layered, like an old house that just kept being painted over, coat and coat, color by color, each telling a different story, a different past. Concealed beneath the familiar exterior were layers of the person she'd once been, all compiling atop one another to make her who she was today. She stopped brushing her hair and placed her palms on the countertop, bracing her weight against it as two green unblinking gazes bore into each other, each searching for the light in the other's eyes, for the window that gave way to the soul, for answers that could only be found within. Unfortunately, the Clary that was not trapped in the mirror couldn't find anything.
She knew who she'd been, even down to the deepest layer of her history, she knew the woman she was. Long ago, she'd been the girl with tangled curls, dashing through the open fields after her father's pickup truck, wanting nothing more than to drive the beaten trails through the woods with him. She'd been the girl with skinned knees and a toothy grin who never backed down from a challenge. She'd been the girl who'd punch the throttle a little harder, feeling the wind whip her cheeks as she looked to her side to see her father smiling, proud of everything she'd done. She'd been the girl that sat on her mother's lap as she painted, giggling when the colored paints and chalks decorated her skin. She'd been free and alive, so full of love and hope that she'd willingly give to anyone who needed it. She wore her heart on her sleeve and protected her eyes with a pair of rose-colored glasses, refusing to see the darkness around every corner.
That innocence was torn from beneath her when she'd met Sebastian. As soon as she lay eyes on him, she knew he was just screaming out for love. He was so bitter about the world, so pessimistic. She offered to help him see the light, and for a while, he did. When Sebastian smiled, it lit up the whole room. It made her heart flutter and her eyes dilate, and everything a body is supposed to do when a person is in love. He held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, brushed his hand lightly across her cheek like she was fragile, like she could turn to dust at any second, like he couldn't bear the thought of losing her.
When she first expressed her dissent for any sexual interaction, he was understanding. He'd kiss her cheek and promise he wouldn't push her. She'd snuggle into his chest and thank him profusely as her inside quaked in fear. Honestly, sex had scared her when she was younger. She felt that she wanted to save herself for her husband, and though she was completely and irrevocably in love with Sebastian, she wasn't sure they'd be married. Of course, Sebastian's patience ran thin, and she found him stumbling into her apartment, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Come 'ere, babe." She could still her his drunken slurs as he pushed her onto the bed, saying that he was tired of waiting, that he wanted to take her right now. She could hear her own voice, so small and afraid as she told him she wanted to wait until marriage, her body squirming to get away from his groping hands. Sebastian sneered, his unfocused eyes dancing all around her face. "I would never marry you." Why she hadn't broken up with him then, she didn't know.
But that brought her to the present, her new layer build over the ones of naïvetés, of meekness, of powerlessness. Her she stood, a small scowl adorning her habitually peaceful face, a series of bruises and scars marking the past she was trying to forget, an unusually hard edge to her stare. She knew what brought about this change, but she wouldn't admit it even to herself.
The past few weeks had been so perfect. Jace had touched her, held her as if she were a miracle, as if she were a beautiful relic meant to be adored. He kissed every inch of her skin, pulled her close as he kissed her lips, left her unrestrained as he thrust into her, leaving her begging for more. She'd moaned his name, something she'd never done before. She'd clung to him and melted into his embrace when it was over. And he'd stayed. Sebastian never stayed.
It scared her and exhilarated her, made her heart skip a beat while pounding heavily in fear. What did this mean? Was she falling into her old ways? Would she allow another boy to control her, to own her? She breathed out softly as she braced her weight against the countertop. It was so perfect, his face hovering comfortingly above her, dipping every so often to butterfly kisses across her face and collar bones, the way the heat of his body seeped into her as he balanced himself above her, the way his eyes roamed but always found their way back to her green ones. It was perfect, and she was afraid. She hated Sebastian so much at this moment. For hurting her. For raping her. For destroying her. She scowled at her reflection, keeping the tears at bay as the familiar feeling of self-loathing flooded through her. She hated Sebastian as much as she hated herself. She felt the strategically place scars on the backs of her upper thighs blaze at the thought. She was passed that stage, but at moments like these, the desire flared up again, her fingers itching to grip a blade and slice it meticulously across unmarred flesh. Maybe if she just did it once, she'd feel better—
"Clary are you almost ready?" Her mother's voice pulled her from that dark void she was slipping into. She stepped into the plum colored dress and sat on the closed lid of the toilet, giving her mother permission to enter.
Jace placed the silverware on the table, watching Maryse bustle around with the food, positioning the dishes decoratively at the center of their large, oak dining table. "Does that look alright?" She asked Isabelle, who was busy stringing lights through the cabinetry lining the edges of the room.
"Mom, it's perfect," Isabelle said, a whimsical tone in her voice. Jace had just set out the last fork when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Isabelle disappeared around the corner in her high heels, her pleasant voice greeting the guests. Jace heard several sets of heels clattering down the hallway. Isabelle entered the room first, her silver dress twinkling like in the white lights. She was followed by a tall man with hair the color of snow. He wore a suit the same color, offset with a forest green tie. The unsettling thing about him were his eyes, black like coal. They were softened though, by laugh lines brought on by age. His arm was looped through the creamy skin of a tall, slender woman, her red curls twisted into a low bun, several escaping and framing her face. Her eyes were green, like the ones he'd looked into as he climaxed just that morning.
The hair stood up on Jace's neck as another figure approached, wearing a deep purple dress that hugged her body like a second skin. Jace didn't even have to look at her face to know who it was. He knew her body well. Every dip and rise of her skin, every sensitive spot, everything. One look into her emerald eyes only confirmed it. Her eyes widened at him, as if she hadn't expected to see him at his own family's Christmas. He shook his head lightly, dropping his gaze to his empty plate.
Clary, Isabelle's friend.
Clary, his casual sex friend.
Clary, Verlac's girlfriend.
Muahahahaha :)
All My Love,
BallinBlonde21