Clary wasn't so sure about meeting Sebastian anymore.
There she stood, outside in the gloomy LA weather, leather jacket wrapped tightly around herself, and staring up at the tall, glass building in front of her. The large, light up sign read, Alicante Studios.
And if clary didn't know any better she's say that this was not in fact a date, but something much more...complicated. Complicated being the key word, because she didn't really know what she was walking into. She could always take a taxi back to the apartment, but, oh, wait, there was Sebastian walking towards her, a big, brilliant smile lighting up his face. She forced one back to him, feeling her face beginning to hurt. "Clary, I'm so glad you made it!" He beamed, and his smile was infectious, as he walked up to the glass double doors. "So, um, what is this place?" Clary asked, trying to sound innocent, for whatever reason. He looked over at her, as he held the door open. "This is where I disappear to," he waggled his eyebrows mysteriously. No way this was where he went whenever he just, disappeared from school. Clary stepped inside, to be greeted with a warm gush of air over her cold skin.
"You work here?" Clary asked, looking around the warmly lit lobby. There was a reception desk, with a petite blonde woman sitting behind it, she gave Sebastian a warm smile as he passed. He nodded at Clary, "yeah, you could say that."
"You're being very mysterious here, Sebastian," Clary said, as she walked behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides and take everything that was Alicante Studios in. "For all I know you could be planning on murdering me," Clary raised her eyebrows at the back of his head, as he let out a low chuckle. "I'll tell you now, that is not the case," he held open a black door, and she stepped inside. There was a man, with black hair and darkly tanned skin sitting behind a control board, and another man standing beside him, with graying hair that he was slowly, but surely, losing. He wore a scowl, his eyebrows furrowed at the glass in front of him. The glass was tinted to the blackest it could probably ever be, and she could just see the outline of...people on the other side of the glass?
Clary turned to Sebastian, confused. He simply smiled, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, and motioned to the two men behind the control panel. "That's Raven," he pointed to the one with the darker skin. "And that," he motioned with his hand to the pasty-skinned, scowling man," is Hodge, our manager."
"'Our'?" Clary asked, completely lost. Was he in a band? "Yeah," Sebastian smiled. "I'm the lead guitarist," Clary nodded, trying to understand everything with all the vague answers she was getting. So, he was the lead guitarist-he must be in a band-there's more than him, because he said "our" manager. Just, who's band? That's what she really wanted to know. "Just sit right here," Sebastian patted a couch a little ways away from control panel and the grouchy-looking man. "Alright," Clary said, unsure of what else she could do. "This shouldn't take long, and then we can go get something to eat, if you want?"
"Yeah, sure," Clary said, trying to sound at least a little cheerful.
And then a through a door that Clary assumed lead to the other side of the black-tinted glass, came a man. Not just any man, oh, no. Because this man had golden hair that was too golden to be real, and golden eyes that just had to be contacts. It was Jace. He didn't seem to notice her, as he looked straight ahead at Sebastian. "Seb, hurry up, we all want to get out of here."
"I won't be long, Clary," he said, and walked over to the door in which Jace was sanding close to. His eyes went wide, "Clary?" he asked, and his gaze shifted a little to his left, to where Clary stood. "Clary?" He asked again in disbelief. Sebastian looked back and forth between Jace and Clary, his expression hopelessly confused. "You know her?" He asked Jace.
"You could say that," Jace replied, trying to keep his cool.
"What does that even mean?" Sebastian asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, it seemed. Clary couldn't help but notice how adorable he looked doing it. One of his signature smirks found its way onto Jace's face, as he leaned more into the door frame, arms crossed over his muscled chest. "This is the girl I was telling you about," he said simply, and Clary raised her eyebrows in surprise; he talked about her?
"Oh, was it?" Sebastian asked, looking slightly amused. "You sounded pretty pissed every time you talked about her," Sebastian noted, and Clary fought the urge to give Jace a cold glare; what had she done wrong?
Jace took a step forward, the light in the small room catching his sharp jawline. And that was when Clary noticed the dark blue and purple bruise forming on the right side of his face, right near his jaw, and a little on his jaw. "Ouch, man," Sebastian grimaced at the bruise forming there. "What the hell did you do?" Jace looked very amused, but no matter how many smirks he flashed in her direction, they couldn't melt the thrill of satisfaction she got just by looking at the bruise, or imaging his face when she'd gave him the finger in the coffee shop. "Let's just say I pissed someone off," Jace shrugged, flashing a look at Clary.
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You did a whole lot more than piss me off, Herondale," Clary informed him. Jace glared at her icily, and for some reason, it made her want to shrink away from him, but she held her ground. No way was she going to be scared by this stupid façade he wore. No one could completely disappear, the old Jace was in there somewhere, she knew that-the notes on her window had proved that. Sebastian looked at her, head cocked to the side. "You two know each other?" Clary laughed, throwing her head back slightly, not really wanting to answer the question, as Jace continued to glare icily at her. "We were...friends," Jace ground out. Sebastian looked a little panicked, "did you two date, or something?"
Clary shook her head frantically. "Oh, God, no! We were close, but not so much anymore." Translation: He's an ass now. Jace looked something like amused, or like he wanted to put his hand through the glass, Clary wasn't entirely sure which. "Oh, you wound me," Jace put a hand to his heart in mock hurt. Sebastian looked like he seriously doubted their story, his gaze going back and forth between the two. "It's my pleasure," Clary shot back. She couldn't help thinking how uncomfortable Sebastian must feel-he probably doesn't believe that there was never anything between them. Clary gave him an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, Sebastian. How about we go out for lunch tomorrow, instead?"
"Yeah, that sounds good," Sebastian agreed, "I'll see you tomorrow then," he gave her a dazzling smile, stepping closer to Jace. She returned the smile, making sure Jace didn't believe by a long shot that it was for him. Clary nodded, and turned to leave the building.
Clary hastily shut the front door behind herself, sliding down it. That had to be one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life. Her cheeks had burned all the way home, and only now, in the privacy of her apartment, would the red colour fade. It was absolutely ridiculous to be embarrassed, she knew, but just the thought that her and Jace had been somehow...together, was unsettling. In so many ways, Clary couldn't keep track. She shivered at the thought for what seemed like the millionth time. She didn't understand why people always jumped right to the idea that they were ex's.
Maybe it was the fact that they had history, and they hated each other-well, Clary hated him, but details, details. All minor details. It didn't look like Isabelle and Simon had been home, and Clary didn't know what to do with herself. She could go out, do something. But what? And then it hit her, like a brick to the head. She could go to Luke's bookstore, see if he needed any help.
Clary nodded, and pushed herself up off the floor. She smoothed out her wrinkled shirt, twisting the cold door knob, and pulling. The door swung open, nearly hitting her in the hip. She frowned at the metal door, stepping outside into the rainy weather. She couldn't believe that it was still rainy, wasn't this supposed to be the city of sunshine, or something? Whatever it was, the past few days had been the exact opposite.
A bell chimed, as Clary pushed open the door to Luke's book store: Garroway Books. Simple name, Clary thought. Luke looked up from his book, a smile lighting up his face at the sight of Clary. She tried for a smile back, but it came out as a grimace. "Clary, what are you doing here?"
"Oh," she said. "I-uh-I just wanted something to do, you know?" She hoped he wouldn't push, if he noticed she was upset, or angry...or whatever she was. At this point, so many unknown emotions were swirling inside of her, she didn't know what to think. Luke nodded, standing up. "Well, if you wanted to help out, you could go shelve those books for me?" Clary nodded, a smile creeping onto her lips.
Turning away from Luke, she headed to near the back of the store, where there were three cardboard boxes stacked, one opened on the floor, books splayed about it. She decided that starting with the open one would be best, so she didn't step all over the books.
She had started shelving books awhile ago, she knew that much, but it had all blurred into one long hour, it seemed. "Clary, it's almost closing time!" Luke called out, into the empty store. "Alright," she replied, bending over to grab the last book out of the final box. She perched it on the shelf, and sighed contently. Doing all that work had gotten Jace, and everything else off of her mind. It was nice to have a blank mind, she realized.
Clary wiped her hands off on her jeans, as she stopped in front of the register, waiting for Luke to come out of the backroom, where he'd been organizing for the last little while. "Thank you for the help, Clary, I really appreciate it," Luke said sincerely, as he stood behind the counter, pressing some buttons on the register. Clary shook her head, "no, Luke, thank you-I needed a distraction." Luke chuckled softly. "Well, you know you're welcome anytime." She nodded, as Luke dug around in his pocket for something-keys, Clary assumed.
"After you," Luke said softly, motioning to the front door. Clary, feeling a little stupid for not realizing he was going to lock up, took a step forward, and then another, and another, until she was pulling open the door, holding it for Luke, who passed swiftly through. He grabbed the door from her, shutting it, and pushing the keys into the lock twisting, and yanking when they got stuck.
"Goodnight, Clary," Luke smiled, as he walked off to his beaten up, blue truck that was parked by the curb. "Night, Luke," Clary waved, as she walked down the sidewalk. She could hear the growl of his truck when he turned it off, see the light from his headlights, leading her way, it seemed. Soon enough, though, the lights were gone, and she felt a little lonely walking by herself.
Clary had actually remembered her keys, so she had no trouble getting into the apartment. "Clarissa!" Was her greeting. She spun on her heel, shocked at the sudden outburst. "What?" She demanded, looking up at whoever it was with wide eyes. Isabelle. "Where have you been? It's nearly eleven o'clock at night!" Isabelle's voice was rising with every passing syllable.
Clary held up her hands in defense, "I was helping Luke at the store," she said simply. Isabelle looked very unimpressed. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't out late on a date, Izzy, please, do forgive me," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Shut up," Isabelle smacked her lightly on the arm. But then, there was a piece of paper about two millimetres away from her face, she struggled to focus on the messy scrawl written across the small piece of yellow paper. "What is this?" Isabelle demanded, a perfectly plucked, black eyebrow raised. Clary ripped the paper from Isabelle's hand, looking down at it.
I'm sorry, Clary.
Meet me at the park.
-J
"It's a note, Isabelle," she said blankly. "From someone who I'd really love to strangle right about now." Clary added, just for good measure. If she thought Isabelle was going to laugh, she was wrong because Isabelle's gaze only drifted between her, and the note. "You're not going, are you?" Isabelle asked, obsidian eyes wide with question. Clary looked down at the note, making a decision she'd surely regret later. "I'm going," she said quietly. "I want to hear what he has to say for himself, after he practically ruined my date with Sebastian."
"That cute guy you were telling me about? In your Art History class?" Isabelle asked, head cocked to the side. Clary nodded, swallowing visibly. "Yeah, him." Isabelle was silent, but Clary knew what Isabelle was thinking; don't go.
She didn't want to, she didn't even know why she was.
The park was relatively empty, upon first glance. The sand-along with everything else-was now dry, but the swings still moaned and groaned. Someone must be using them, maybe some kids, but Clary highly doubted it. Not once had she seen kids go back here to play.
Hesitantly, Clary walked over to the swings, only to find a head of golden hair, staring at his feet. She leaned against one of the metal poles, holding up the swing set. "Jace?" She asked, watching as his head shot upright, and he stood up, spinning around to look at her. "You actually showed up." It was with those words, Clary was waiting for something horrible to happen to her. Some hidden camera crew to pop out and scream that she'd been pranked by Jace Herondale, and some ice cold water to be poured on her head. She shivered, feeling the cold of the icy water, even though there was none.
No one popped out, though. It was just her and Jace, and that was almost worse, somehow. The tension was almost tangible in the air. "I did," Clary said, almost not believing it herself. "What did you want me here for?" She asked, getting right to the point, trying to keep a clear mind. Jace's face was unreadable, and Clary knew immediately that he was wearing his mask. It hurt a little, knowing that he felt the need to wear his mask around her, but then again, they weren't friends.
They weren't anything.
"I wanted to apologize," Jace said, from the tense look on his face, how he looked slightly impatient, Clary guessed he didn't want to be doing this. So why was he? Clary nodded slowly, time seemingly have been slowed, seconds dragged out into minutes, to what felt like hours, what felt like years. "You can't even say it, can you?" Clary finally asked, her green eyes flicking up from where they rested on the trees that encased them. Jace didn't reply immediately, but he looked even more impatient than the last time Clary had looked at him. He looked almost...bored. "Of course you can't," Clary muttered, laughing at herself a little, as she turned to go back through the way she'd come. There was a small opening in the trees, which she was just small enough to fit through, which worked out perfectly. If she expected Jace to grab her arm like last time, she was mistaken, because there was no sudden sparks of electricity running through her arm, up and down her spine. Just cold, breaking through her leather jacket.
He isn't worth it, Clary's brain told her, but the small, incessant ache in her chest told her otherwise. There was the familiar prickling of tears behind her eyes, the heat rising to her face. But she couldn't cry, she refused to cry over Jace. She refused to mourn the lost of her best friend again, because no matter who he had been, he wasn't that person now. And, unfortunately, you can't just hop into a metal tube and go back in time.
Isabelle was there, suddenly, leaning against Clary's door frame, she looked sympathetic. "Clary, please don't cry," she said, most likely easily recognizing the sings that she was going to cry. "I don't care what he said, he's not worth it-we both know it." Clary nodded, sniffling a little, closing her eyes, reminding herself that Jace wasn't the person she had known. It was hard.
"He's a total ass," Clary said, her voice low, as she calmed herself, trying to fend off the building tears. "He couldn't even say he was sorry," she laughed, humourlessly. Isabelle shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed angrily. "Whatever. I just really want to not think about him," Clary said, standing up from her spot on the bed. "American Horror Story?" Isabelle asked, a slow grin spreading across her face, one inky eyebrow raised. Clary smiled, despite her crappy mood. "You know me too well."
"That guy is hot," Isabelle said quietly, her eyes glued to the screen. To say the least, the new season of American Horror Story was full of surprises, but, no sign of Evan Peters so far. "Yeah," Clary responded, just as distracted as Isabelle. The couch sunk down, and then, "hey, guys, what are we watching?"
Clary held up her hand to stop Simon's talking, trying to press it to his lips, she ended up covering his face, with her small hand. "Shh," she muttered. "American Horror Story." Clary was very engrossed in the show, and nothing could draw her attention away-not even the apartment catching fire. "Hot guys," Isabelle added, and Clary couldn't help the laugh that escaped her, while she could practically hear Simon roll his eyes. "Do you guys ever watch anything else?" He questioned.
"Will you maybe, I don't know, shut up?" Clary asked half-mindedly. Simon leaned back into the couch, arms crossed, and something black in his hands. And then the television screen goes black, and Clary and Isabelle are staring at it like idiots, waiting for it to come back on. And then, slowly, their attention turns to Simon, who wears a smug grin. "Simon!" Isabelle exclaimed. "We were watching that!"
"I noticed," Simon replied dryly. "But, seriously, all you guys ever do is watch American Horror Story."
Clary rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, elbows cupped in the palms of her hands. "You'd understand if you were gay and liked horror movies," she said, giving him a "duh" expression. By the look on Simon's face, Clary guessed that if he'd been drinking anything, he'd been choking on it, having a coughing fit, or spitting out the substance. Clary could really see the former happening. "What she said," Isabelle grumbled, gesturing to Clary, who had this far off expression on her face, and a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "Clary?" Simon waved a hand in front of her face, trying to regain her attention.
"Yeah?" She asked, shaking away the hazy dream of Simon choking on water, as she and Isabelle laughed their heads off. "What are you thinking about?" Simon asked, pushing up his glasses. Clary shook her head, looking down at her lap. "Oh, nothing," she said. "Just you...choking to death on water," she smiled sickeningly sweet at him. His chocolate eyes widened, his complexion paling visibly. "W-why would you be thinking of that?" Simon squeaked. Clary twirled a piece of red hair around her finger, eyes wide and innocent. "No reason," she said, fighting back the urge to laugh at the mental picture of Simon choking on water. She'd probably seem like a lunatic.
"Clary, get up!" Someone hissed, shaking her shoulder. Groaning, Clary rolled over, onto her back. The ceiling was blank, some shadows being thrown across it from the faint illumination of the moon. "What?" She asked, turning her head slowly to face whomever it may be. "Clary, get up," Simon hissed. Sitting up, she squinted at him in the darkness. "What-why?"
Simon's hand was on her wrist, pulling her up from under the covers. "Just get up, would you?" Groaning again, Clary complied, just so she could get back to bed faster.
The living room was brightly lit, Isabelle pacing the room. Her eyes concentrated on the floor, biting her lip. She looked up, "Clary," she breathed. She was very confused at this point, until her eyes landed on the smashed front window, the shards of glass lying around the room. There were rocks on the floor, and small bits of paper surrounding them. "Did you read them?" Clary asked sinking down to the floor, on her knees, unfolding the bits of paper as fast as she could. "Clary-no, don't-" Isabelle cut off, reaching for her. Simon doing the same, but not before Clary pulled away, the broken glass breaking more under her legs. She hissed in pain, clutching the pieces of paper tightly to her chest. "Let me read them," she said, pulling the paper away from her chest.
The edges were torn, crumpled, bent, but it couldn't hide the dark black ink from her eyes.
Stay away from Jace, or you'll be sorry.
Clary gasped, eyes glued to the paper. She sifted through them, quickly reading the scrawl on them. Each and everyone of the pieces of paper contained a threat to stay away from Jace. Hastily, Clary stood up, not even bothering to wipe away the glass from her knees, or to release the papers from her death grip. "Clary, where are you going?" Simon asked, taking a step forward, as if he was going to stop her, but Isabelle was already marching forward, grabbing Clary's arm, as she pulled on a pair of shoes. They could have been two different left-footed shoes and she wouldn't have noticed. "I'm going-I'm going out," Clary said, looking frantically around the room, as if the people responsible for it would be sitting on their couch, smirking triumphantly at her. "I just-I need some air. I'll be back," Clary said, shooting Isabelle and Simon an apologetic look, shaking herself free of Isabelle's grasp. She grabbed her jacket from where it lay across the back of the couch, shrugging it on as fast as possible.
"I'll be back," Clary said again, fumbling with the door knob, finally prevailing to pull it open.
She didn't hear whatever Simon and Isabelle were shouting after her, as she ran blindly down the street. What had she done? She hated Jace, well, kind of. When Clary looked back up, some of the fuzziness clearing from her vision, she found herself standing in the park where Jace usually asked to meet. Her head swung around, back and forth, checking if anyone was there. She didn't see anyone, at first glance, but after her hysteria started to wear off, she saw the gold, saw it emanating from him. He looked human, not like the robot he usually resembled. He had his look on his face, as he stared at her, one she couldn't place, but then again, lately she hadn't been able to place any of his expressions. Clary could feel the tears staining her cheeks, feel her heart rate speeding up. And then his muscled arms were open, and Clary was stumbling into them, like some sad, lonely drunk person. They closed around her, and her head lay on his chest, his hand rubbing up and down her back. He was whispering something over, and over again, but she couldn't focus long enough to actually hear the words.
He was definitely different from ninth grade, she could tell that much from the hard muscles under his shirt, and his arms that were holding her tightly. She was crying, and she didn't know why-over some notes? Surely not. But then, Clary could finally hear what he was saying on repeat, like a skipping song. "Clary."
Hey guys! I apologize for not updating this weekend, it's just that it was Thanksgiving weekend, and I'm sick.
So, yeah, I really hope you all liked this chapter.
Unfortunately, only a few of you came close to guessing what was going to happen on Clary's "date" with Sebastian, thinking that it was a set up Jace had concocted to get her there. But, nope! Sebastian is indeed not so sleazy or low as to do something like that. Well, not right now. Actually I'm not sure.
Whatever.
:D