My mind was reeling. One minute, I was filled with a murderous rage. Jonathan was hurting Clary again, and this time, it was more than just a few pranks.
The next, I was slammed up against the wall beside Clary and Jonathan was forcing his mouth on mine.
For a moment, I was frozen. It was all kinds of wrong, and not just because it was Jonathan kissing me. It was like pure loathing pulsed through his mouth and into mine, but at the same time, a feeling of fierce longing was present in the way he crushed his face against mine and a desperate kind of hope.
And then I came back to life.
I raised my hand and shoved against Jonathan's shoulders with such force he stumbled and almost fell. I, too, stumbled away from the wall; I rested my fists on my knees, breathing hard. Not many things could surprise me. But that?
'What the hell was that?' I demanded of Jonathan, who was staring at me with a look of dawning horror. His black eyes were wide, his mouth swollen and open. A little to the left, I could see Clary staring at the both of us, her mouth agape, leaning against the wall for support. I noticed she was holding her wrist to her chest.
'I – you – I mean…' Jonathan's voice was broken and quiet. He stared at me, and just kept staring, seemingly unable to believe what it was he had done.
Clary didn't move from her place by the wall, but I heard her strong, unwavering voice anyway.
'He's in love with you, Jace.'
And even though it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard, I knew it was true. Everything that Jonathan had been doing to Clary this past month had been because of jealousy. It was ironic really; I had thought he was jealous of Clary. Who wouldn't be? But no, it was me all along. He hurt her and probably many others because of me.
'Of course he is,' I snap out, allowing a little of my usual sarcastic nature to seep into my tone. 'But that doesn't mean he had the right to assault you. Show me your hand.'
'What?' Clary blinked, moving her wrist behind her back. I glared at her impatiently.
'Show. Me. Your. Hand.'
'Jace – '
'He hurt you. That's not a very nice thing to do, Jonathan.' I turned my attention back to the pale boy. His black eyes were frantic with fear. It was like everything about him had shrunk, had been crushed as soon as Clary spoke. 'And whatever it is that you're feeling, Jonathan, it's not love. It's obsession.'
That seemed to be that last straw. Jonathan leapt at me, fist swinging wildly, a crazed, desperate look in his eyes. I ducked easily, catching his fist in my own. Quick as anything, he brought his other fist up to my stomach. I let him go in surprise.
'I'm not gay!' He screamed at me, his voice cracking. I deflected his next blow, disbelief surging through me.
'Oh, I beg to differ, Morgenstern.'
He let out a howl and threw himself away from me, lunging instead at Clary, who stumbled back.
'This is all your fault,' he screamed, and he was moving too fast, I wasn't going to save her in time –
The unexpected occurred. Clary's small fist snapped out, catching Jonathan on the chin and then her foot kicked out, slamming into Jonathan's shin. He gasped in pain and shock, faltering just long enough for me to grab him by his shirt, restraining him. I stared at Clary in surprise, and her expression mirrored mine as she stared down at her closed fist.
I looked down to see that Jonathan had slipped from my grip and was kneeling on the ground, his shoulders shuddering with sobs. My gaze moved back to Clary, whose eyes now held traces of sympathy. Fuck, why did she have to be such a good person?
She stared at me with those big, green eyes, the message clear. I felt my shoulders sag. I moved around to stand in front of Jonathan.
'Look, Morgenstern,' I said. 'I think maybe you're confused at the moment. Maybe you should get some help. Talk to someone or, uh, something.'
Internally, I winced. Reaching out to my girlfr – my fake-girlfriend's tormentor was not something I was comfortable with. At all. Whatsoever. I glanced behind me at Clary who urged me on silently with her eyes. Bloody hell, the things I do for this girl…
'I don't love you, Jonathan. And I'm not sorry for that. But you seriously need to figure out what the hell it is you're doing, if not for yourself but for everybody else who has to deal with your crap.'
Suddenly, his head shot up. His face was not creased with tears, as I had imagined, but dry, his eyes as black and broken as ever.
'You're not going to tell anyone, are you?' His voice came out as a cracked whisper and I felt a small spark of sympathy. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and I hated myself for it.
I rocked back, looking down at him with disdain.
'I should. It's what you deserve,' I said, my voice cold and unfeeling. I saw panic flash through his eyes. 'But I'm not going to. Because Clary, the girl you've been tormenting these past few weeks, would never forgive me if I did. So I suggest you just mull that over for a while, see what kinds of epiphanies can come from having someone be empathetic despite every single shit-faced thing you have done.'
And with that, I gently took Clary by the elbow and we left Jonathan Morgenstern as he crouched on the ground and tried not to think about the shattered, messed up heart we were leaving behind.
O.o
I walked Clary out back into the parking lot. I could feel her shaking slightly beneath my hand, but I knew she would never admit she had been afraid back there. Not even for a minute.
We stopped halfway between Simon's car and my own. I could see her casting furtive glances in both my direction and Simon's. I took her hand in mine, the one that Jonathan had grabbed. And, consequently, the one she had decked him with.
The knuckles were red and so was her wrist. Slowly, I lifted her hand to my mouth and gently pressed a kiss to each knuckle, ignoring her small gasp of surprise. I slowly dropped her hand back to her side, avoiding her green eyes.
'Are you ok?' Her soft voice asked me, concern for me plain in her tone and the way she tried to catch my eyes.
'I'm fine,' I replied, seeing Simon making his way over to us slowly. Too late, Rat-Boy, I thought with a tinge of anger. Hadn't he seen Clary get pulled off the path? What a dick-head. Sometimes I just didn't understand how she could be in love with such a blind fool.
Clary didn't look like she believed me, and she would be right. It was like fury and confusion had tied them into a knot inside my stomach and refused to untangle. I didn't understand it. How could Jonathan…love me? I hated the thought of it, but not in the way you would suspect. I had nothing against homosexuals, my best friend was one. No, the thing that had me shaken was the hate that had poured from Jonathan when he kissed me, as if he loathed both himself and me for the feelings he had. Just thinking about it left a sick, metallic feeling in my mouth.
Clary lifted her hand and gently captured my chin between her finger and thumb, gently brushing her other fingers across the skin of my aching jaw.
She locked her eyes with mine, daring me to glance away.
'Jace, don't be stubborn,' She said in a soft, exasperated tone.
'Clary, don't be nosy,' I replied, imitating her tone mockingly.
Clary pulled back, a look of hurt flashing through her eyes so quickly I almost didn't catch it. Almost.
She opened her mouth as if to reply when Rat-Boy finally made it over.
'Clary?' He said, looking between us. 'What're you doing?'
I saw a flicker of annoyance in Clary's eyes as she turned to Simon. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I had just moments before.
'I was just talking to Jace. I'll meet you at the car.' She smiled as she brushed him off, turning back to me with a determined look in her eyes. Simon retreated quickly, sending me a look over his shoulder that made a pang of regret shoot through me. He didn't look jealous; he just looked concerned for his friend. Oh Clary, I'm so sorry.
But I wasn't. Not really.
'Look, Jace – ' she broke off, biting her lip. A little of the conviction left her eyes before she took a steadying breath and glanced away. 'If you need to, give me a ring. Ok?'
'You'll be at Simon's,' I pointed out. At my words, she looked me straight in the eyes.
'I'll answer anyway,' she said, her voice strong, and steady. Then her blazing eyes softened. 'I will, If you need me, Jace. I promise.' Then she kissed me quickly on the cheek and hurried to where Rat-Boy waited.
I turned and made my way back to my car, Clary's promise ringing in my ears.
O.o
I didn't call Clary that night, and we didn't discuss what had happened the next day at school.
Jonathan laid off Clary, and he didn't speak to me.
It was like nothing had ever happened.
O.o
It was a Friday and I was standing outside Simon's door, waiting patiently for someone to answer. Yesterday, he and I had made plans to hang out before I went on my "date" with Jace. Jace and I were planning on going to the movies and if Jace had been upset that I wouldn't be spending the entire afternoon with him, he didn't show it.
Simon hadn't been at school today, I suspected he had actually conned a day off so he didn't have to hand in his unfinished maths assignment. This also meant I had to suffer alone in the dreaded class. He was definitely going to pay.
The door opened, interrupting me from my thoughts. I blinked and focused on Mrs. Lewis, Simon's mother, smiling at me politely from the doorway.
'Clary!' She exclaimed, a slightly confused look in her eyes. 'What a surprise. I haven't seen you in ages!'
I grinned, even if her surprise at my arrival was slightly confusing. Hadn't Simon told her I was coming?
'I've been a bit…busy,' I said as she let me inside. 'Simon and I were going to hang out this arvo. Didn't he tell you?'
Mrs. Lewis shook her head. 'It must have slipped his mind. But he and his other friend are up in his room.' As she turned to leave, I frowned. Other friend? If it were Eric or Matt, she would have said so. Who then?
I slowly climbed the stairs, and came to Simon's door. I took a breath, suddenly nervous. Why? I have no idea.
Taking a breath, I turned the door knob, quietly pushing the door open – and saw everything Jace and I had worked for these past weeks crumble before my eyes.
Simon was standing in the middle of the room locked in a passionate embrace. For a moment I did not recognise the girl whose face was locked with his, and then the long black hair and tall, willowy figure registered.
Isabelle Lightwood.
My mouth opened in shock but no words came out. It was as if something great and heavy was crushing my chest, restricting my breathing. I stumbled back, wanting to leave as quietly as possible, but my arm hit the door and it slammed against the wall with a loud bang, causing Simon and Isabelle to spring apart in surprise. They stared at me, mouths open, eyes wide and I stared back.
'Clary – ?' Simon began, a frown of confusion on his face. And then realisation dawned. He took another step forward, arm outstretched, but I was already stumbling backwards again. I opened my mouth once, twice, but when nothing came out I turned and sprinted down the stairs and out of the house, Simon's shouts following me the whole way.
Only two thoughts were in my head as I ran from Simon's house and onto the street.
One was: I can't believe it.
The other: I have to tell Jace.
O.o
Jace looked up as I burst into his room, huffing and nearly falling over.
'Well hello, Lover. I didn't know you were this excited for our date tonight.'
I bent over, leaning on my knees, gasping for breath and shook my head, still unable to fill my lungs properly. I had sprinted all the way to Jace's house, nearly twenty minutes from Simon's. He got slowly to his feet, seeming to sense that something wasn't right.
'Clary? Clary what's wrong?' His big hands came down on my shoulders, his concerned gold eyes filling my gaze.
'It's over, Jace,' I gasped. 'It's over.'
And then, I told him everything I had seen. I felt a few tears slide down my cheeks by the time I had finished but I wiped them brusquely away. What was the point in crying?
We ended up lying side by side on his bedroom floor, the sides of our heads touching. I didn't know how long we laid there for, just gazing at the blank ceiling, wallowing in our own self-pity. I knew my heart was broken, but with Jace, it wasn't so bad. Our English teachers question floated, unbidden into my mind. I didn't want to think about that.
Suddenly, I sat up.
'I hate it.' I burst out. Jace sat up as well, staring at me with raised eyebrows and splintered eyes.
'What?'
'Your room,' I said, standing up in sudden agitation. 'I hate your room. It's too blank. It's horrible.'
Jace stood up slowly, staring at my sudden outburst.
'Well, I'm sorry if it offends you, Lover.' He drawled sarcastically. But I wasn't listening.
'I'll be back in twenty minutes,' I said, 'I want you to move your drawers and desks out of here and cover your bed with a garbage bag.'
'What? Why?' Jace demanded, scrambling to follow me as I ran out of his room.
'Just do it! I'll be back soon!' I shouted, grabbing his car keys from the kitchen bench and running from his house.
O.o
Twenty minutes later I returned to Jace's apartment with seven buckets of paint in the boot. He ran out to meet me, looking positively livid.
'You stole my car! Bloody hell, Clary – '
'Oh shut up and give me a hand,' I interrupted irritably, popping the boot open. Jace grumbled slightly and followed me around to the boot. He stared at the buckets of paint, and then at me and then at the buckets of paint again.
'Clary, whatever it is you think I'm going to let you do – '
'Do you have a drop sheet?' I interrupted again, grabbing two buckets of paint. Jace stared at me like I had gone mad.
'What? Why on Earth would I have a drop-sheet?'
'I don't know,' I retorted. 'Why do you have two black-boards?'
Jace opened his mouth to reply but I shoved past him and bounded up the stairs toward his apartment. After a few moments I heard him following. We made two more trips back down to the car before all the buckets of paint were deposited in his room. He had followed my instructions carefully, with his bedside table, desk, and drawer in the hallway and two large garbage bags covering his bed. Now the only thing that needed to be protected was the polished hard-wood floors.
'No drop sheet,' Jace said in an "I told you so" tone. I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
'Well, do you have any newspaper? And masking tape?'
Jace nodded and backed out of his bedroom. Three minutes later he was back with a huge stack of old newspaper and a thick roll of masking tape placed daintily on top. He dumped the newspaper carelessly on the bed but when I moved to grab one, he blocked my way, forcing me to make eye contact.
'Clary,' he said in exasperation. 'What are you doing?'
I swallowed against the sudden burning of tears at the back of my throat. What was I doing? I was trying to forget.
'Can we paint one of your walls?' I asked, blinking up at him. He faltered and then paused, closing his eyes against me for a moment. And then he nodded silently and I ran from the room, coming back a little later with his stereo and T. Rex CD. He chuckled when he saw it and murmured something along the lines of "I should have known". Then he grabbed the mess of newspapers and began taping them to the floor.
I ran back to the car and grabbed a few paint brushes I had brought from my house and by the time I was back, Jace had finished laying down the newspaper. I handed him a large paint brush and opened a bucket of sky-blue paint.
'You ready?' I asked him. He turned the music on in answer.
I dipped my paint brush into the bucket then drew a single diagonal blue line from the bottom corner of the wall to as high as I could reach on the opposite side. Jace cracked open the bucket of green paint and splattered it all over the wall. Soon we were throwing paint against the wall, letting out our heartbreak and frustration and confusion and anger out against the previously white wall. Soon we settled down, and our shouts were replaced with laughter.
I drew a stitched together heart on one side of the wall and Jace painted a few lightning bolts shooting from the corner of the wall. We painted flowers and birds and a TARDIS and fish and trees and people running and dancing.
Jace dipped his hand into a bucket of red paint and began chasing me around the room. He caught me in the end, and covered my cheek and arm in red paint. I grabbed a paint brush and before he could react, painted a strip of bright pink down the side of his face and down his neck. Soon we were as paint covered as the wall.
Suddenly, Jace grabbed my arms and began to twist and dance. I laughed and laughed and so did he until I felt like my sides were about to split in half.
'You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl,' we sang along to the CD completely out of tune, even though I knew Jace had an at least half-decent voice.
'Get it on, bang a gong, get it on!'
I painted the lyrics onto the wall in bright thick purple paint, the same paint that decorated Jace's hair. Then I dipped my hand in the red paint bucket and brought it to the centre of the wall and pressed it against the wall, leaving a red print of my small hand behind. Jace did the same, only with gold paint (go figure). The print of his hand made my own look tinier than usual with his big palm and long, elegant pianist fingers.
Using black paint, we wrote our names and the date underneath the prints, finally stepping back to examine our handy work. Every inch of the wall was covered with colours. And in the very centre were the prints of our hands with our names written carefully beneath. Jace slipped his fingers through mine without looking at me and I clung to them with my own.
'What do we do now?' I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
'I don't know, Clary,' he replied softly. I didn't have to look at him to know that his eyes held the same splintered look they had held that day at school, when we had been arguing.
The CD clicked off and began to play again.
O.o
We did not end up going to the movies. We stayed in his room and constructed a cubby house made of sheets and pillows. We kept the "door" open so we could gaze upon our masterpiece of a wall and pulled the stereo in. It played softly in the background, a multitude of artists singing on a seemingly never ending playlist. In reality, I knew it was just a mixed disc that Jace had created a couple of months ago, but it didn't matter. Reality wasn't really what we were looking for at the moment, anyway.
We didn't bother to wash the paint off ourselves. I didn't have clean clothes to change into and I honestly didn't mind looking like a walking rainbow. And it definitely suited Jace. When I told him so, he simply replied, "Honey, everything suits me".
It was comforting to know that despite everything, Jace's arrogant personality remained.
We talked about nothing for hours, always skirting the things that were important and focusing on the things that weren't.
Simon and Isabelle, for example, were subjects that were skirted.
Whether or not the Doctor would beat Gandalf in a fight, were subjects that were focused on.
Of course, one could argue that finding out whether the Doctor would beat Gandalf in a battle was, in fact, highly important.
We talked and talked until there was nothing left to say and then we just lay in our cubby, side by side, watching the colours on his newly painted wall and finding new pictures inside the pictures already there.
I felt safe with Jace, and happy, even though I knew I should be miserable. After all, the boy I thought I loved for ten years was with another girl.
But honestly, the hurt wasn't so bad.
There you go! Hope you guys liked it!
Simon and Isabelle, what have you been up to? hahaha.
Two more chapters left, guys, and then this story will be finished!
Reviews = wonderfulness
Blue :)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Mortal Instruments Series.
