Not much to say except sorry for putting this one on the back burner :( and that the song is Riptide by Vance Joy...enjoy!
Jace felt the raw adrenalin roaring through his veins as he peered around the corner of the stage, an ocean of black t-shirts and leather jackets flooding into the arena like a tidal wave. His face was obscured by a set of black raybans, his dark hood pulled up to shield his golden hair from the eyes of excited fans. Not that it would matter anyway. Night had settled into the Vegas strip, and though alive with the lights and sounds of sin city, the arena itself was dimly lit, faces glowing from the white light of cellphone screens, giving Jace the dusky cover he needed. His heart was thrumming unevenly in his chest, a feeling so foreign and familiar to him all at once. Never before had he experienced it looking out at a crowd, though. He let the velvety curtain fall to fully shield his face as he shuffled back across the stage, pressing the heels of his hands heavily into his eye sockets. As much as he willed the feelings to flee his body, as much as his mind threatened them, they were fearless. They were here to stay.
He passed his brother, seeing his black-rimmed eyes swimming with questions as he shut himself in the dressing room, ignoring Alec's incessant knocking. His body was being shredded slowly by this agonizing of concern and compassion mixed with even parts of anxiety and terror. He ran his hands through his tangled locks, shoving the hood down in the process. This exposed his collarbone, along with several faded white scars that he tried so much to hide. Sure, he went shirtless on stage, but not before applying several layers of sweat-proof makeup to hide his shame. Ferociously, he ripped his sweatshirt from his body, dropping the shredded fabric to the floor. He bore his chest to his reflection, watching his twin's eyes grow hollow as they fell on his failure. He'd long ago memorized the labyrinth of scars marring his skin, the thin white lines from the clean slices and the still angry red ones from where glass had been lodged in his flesh.
He pressed his hand over his heart, watching his mirror do the same. There was a small line angled across his chest that was free of any marks, completely clean as one's skin should be. The absence was due to selfless love. Even as he himself was about to die, Stephen reached back to protect his son. Jace struggled to bare that, that Stephen had loved him so much to save his life and die in the process. Jace remembered the three-inch shard of glass one of the firefighters pulled from Stephen's arm as he pulled the two out, musing that it was a miracle it hadn't pierced Jace's heart. His mother was not so thankful for the life of her child, not at the cost of her lover's beating heart.
Alec's knocking had either stopped or faded away as Jace delved into his mind, immersed in the despair of the day that the life he should have had ended along with his father's. "You should have died with him," His mother spat as she drove him home, tossing him into the front seat, not bothering to tell him to buckle up. Jace remembered agreeing with her as she carelessly ran stop signs, toying with fate, longing for the death of her and her child so that they may be reunited with Stephen. This, of course, was before she fell into the catatonic state that left little Jace to fend for himself. "This is what happens when you care about people, Jace," he growled, his golden eyes flashing with anger as they bore into those of his pitiful reflection. He couldn't care for anyone because they'd simply be ripped from his grasp, leaving him grappling for answers and reason why.
"On in five," a faceless voice barked with a curt knock, dragging Jace from his childhood and back to the present. He pulled on a tight black t-shirt, ducking his head so he didn't have to look at himself as he passed the mirror.
"Jace Herondale, what did you do to your hair?!" the male hairdresser cried in horror as he passed him in the hall. Jace just shrugged, wondering why he even bothered to let people tousle his hair for hours, hoping to get it just perfect, when all he would do was mess it up during the show.
"Dude, what's wrong?" Jonathon asked, followed by an "Are you okay?" from Alec. Jace gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists, trying not to explode. The questions of his past were all-consuming. He didn't have time for the insignificant ones of his wellbeing. He stomped past Izzy and Clary, ignoring their cheers of good luck as he snatched his guitar from the rack. He focused instead on crawling into the elevator that would raise him from the ground. He wasn't quick enough. He'd seen a look of hurt cross Clary's face, the same one she'd given him yesterday when he'd refused to say he cared for her.
There was that word again. Care. He couldn't get it out of his head, even as he scrubbed his hands down his face trying to draw those thoughts away, all he could think about was how he'd caused that small frown on her face, how he was the reason for the furrowing of her brows. He watched her whisper something to Jonathon as he walked by, earning a nod from the blondie as he hauled his own guitar on stage. What had she said? Was it about him? Jace breathed as a loud roar ensued from the crowd, signaling to Jace that the curtain had been lifted. He heard his name being chanted, thousands of voices in unison all calling for him, needing him, but it shouldn't be that way. Jace couldn't help them if they had a bad day. He couldn't help them if their cash was stolen or if a drunk driver decided to run a red just as they were crossing the intersection. If he couldn't even help his own parents, how could he have an entire fan base count on him?
A monotonous voice counted backward from three, and Jace focused on not hyperventilating. This was his normal preshow ritual, at least since he'd met Clary. Even at that moment in the bar when she wasn't immediately throwing her panties at him, he knew his life had been altered. He just didn't think it would cause him to call to thought the meaning of his existence before every show. Two, the voice droned, and Jace reeled himself back to reality, his hand gripping the guitar so tightly it might bust. He couldn't ward of the feeling he was being launched into the Hunger Games of rock music, though, as the voice counted down to one, and he rose into the center of battle. Cheers and cries erupted as Jace rose his arms to the sky, his shirt riding up a bit revealing the ragged scar across his pelvis. He dropped his arms and looked back at Alec. Five, six, seven, eight—Alec clacked his sticks together to set the pace before the music began, and all Jace's worries melted away.
He closed his eyes and threw his entire being into the performance. Anything less would have allowed the ruthless thoughts of his inadequacy to slip into his consciousness, and he'd stumble over the notes. He was thankful that since Clary's tangle with life and death the girls had decided that the side stage was safer, and therefore keeping the redhead out of his line of sight. Heaven knows what kind of a fit would overcome him if he was staring into her soulful green eyes for the entire show.
Jace strummed a few more chords as the song finished, snatching a sign from a busty girl that read Jace Herondale have my children. He took a Sharpie from a crowd member and scrawled his name across it, leaning down to kiss her hand before charging forward into his next song.
He knew music had always been an escape. An escape from his past, from his own mind, but he'd never thought it would be an escape from a girl. Now it had become just that. Performing with the Shadowhunters was a scapegoat, a way to dilute the intense burning need he had for a girl he'd affectionately and rightly nicknamed Snow White's Apple. She was beautiful, with her silky red locks and wide emerald eyes. But she was also poisonous, her venom slowly stripping away the façade that had been Jace Herondale for so long and leaving him victim and defenseless to the cruel world outside.
X.O.X.O.X
Clary watched as Jace poured his heart into the performance, seemingly completely oblivious to the world outside, to her. She wished she could do that, forget that Jace existed, forget the electric sparks she felt every time he so much as brushed by here, forget the blurry memories from her drunken stupor. But she couldn't. She was awake, fully conscious of everything she was feeling, of everything she felt and wanted to feel. She grabbed Isabelle's hand and pulled here away from the show, unable to watch another girl scream Jace's name and earn a panty-dropping wink from him. They were the center of his universe, not her. "What are we doing?" Isabelle inquired, not resisting as Clary pulled her outside and hopped into the rented Audi. Clary slammed on the gas and directed the Audi toward the bus, trying to think of an honest answer for Isabelle.
"I have no idea," she finally grumbled, throwing the car into park as she hustled onto the bus, not oblivious to the sighs of disappointment the paparazzi gave them when noticing it was just the band's plain sisters. To be quite honest, Clary had never wanted to be famous. She never wanted people tracking her every move, making up tabloid lies just to earn a buck. She never wanted to be blinded by the flash of a thousand cameras or deafened by the screams of a million fans. But it still hurt. When they slipped out of the side stage door to the glares of people hoping to catch a picture of the sweaty Shadowhunters, it stung. She felt unwanted, by everyone. Except Sebastian, her brain added ironically, making her chest flare with anger.
"Okay, I know we aren't famous or anything, but we are super-hot. They could at least appreciate that instead of acting like we are a plague or something." Clary snorted, thankful she wasn't the only one feeling that way. "Thanks for pulling me out of there, by the way. I wanted to leave, too. Something about hormonal teenage girls tossing their thongs at my brothers made me want to puke." Clary laughed again, flopping down on the bed in the room they shared.
"Where's Simon?" Isabelle shook her head, rolling her eyes.
"Vegas, baby. Who the heck knows." Isabelle looked a little sad at that statement, but she plunged forward excitedly, doing the only thing Isabelle Lightwood really knows how to do: dress Clary up. "Let's explore the town!" Isabelle cheered as she straightened Clary's hair, only to put another set of soft curls in it. Clary nodded. Just get me away from here, she thought, speeding up the process of getting ready by applying her own eyeliner and mascara.
"Perfect," the girls said in unison as they twirled in front of the mirror an hour later. They would have giggled had the statement not been 100% true. Clary's body was swathed in a dress as red as fir, giving the impression that her whole body was engulfed in flames. Her hair was a shade darker than the dress, making her feel less like Pippy Longstocking and more like a real woman. A sole ruby pendent sat between her breasts, which she had thanks to one of Isabelle's miracle bras. As Clary smiled for a picture Isabelle was taking, she noticed that where she was all fire, Izzy was all ice. Her dress was tight, clinging to her body like a silvery skin. Her skin was dripping in diamonds, her hair twisted up into an elegant bun.
"Let's go," Isabelle chimed, twirling the keychain of the Audi on her manicured fingertip, her hips shaking in the tight fabric of her dress. Clary followed silently, not knowing how she felt. Unwanted, unimportant, in love—all those emotions topped her list, leaving her a confused mess on the inside. She slipped into the passenger seat as the rented car chirped unlocked. Isabelle settled into the driver's seat a moment later, fumbling to toss her purse into the back before bringing the engine to life. "Get ready for me to rock your world, baby," she purred, her fingers stroking the dashboard affectionately while the engine only hummed in response. She tossed a smirk at Clary before gliding it onto the road.
They pulled up to the first casino they saw, and Isabelle slipped Clary several hundred dollars. Clary moved to deny the money, but Isabelle simply walked away, muttering something about them being a gift from Alec. Right. She stuffed the cash into her purse and wandered around the casino for a while. She ordered a Sprite, getting it for free since she was the designated driver, and sipped slowly on the clear liquid. She witnessed several shocking victories and other heartbreaking bankruptcies before Isabelle decided to cash out and trade the "friggen rigged, money-sucking machines" for endless booze at one of the dive bars.
"Oh, karaoke night!" Isabelle crooned as they walked in, earning a few startled glances from bystanders. "Clary sing!" Isabelle cried, pushing Clary onto the stage. Several people clapped as Clary blushed and tried to step down.
"Sweetheart, you got up there and now you have to sing!" a familiar voice shouted.
"Magnus?!" The glittery bartender winked from where he was shaking a drink.
"I picked up a few shifts along the stops of a certain someone's shall we say 'business trip.'" Another wink. So that's where Alec has been disappearing to. Nice. Signing, she shuffled through the machine looking for a song to sing.
"I guess this one goes out to my friend Isabelle," she said, gesturing toward the girl dancing to the opening notes, "the magnificent bartender back there," Magnus tipped his fedora, "to the boy that never loved me, and to the one that will never admit he cares." A few "here-here's" could be heard at that last statement.
Clary opened the song, trying not to laugh at Isabelle who acutely resembled a chicken as she flailed about the dancefloor. Magnus stared at her with a slack jaw, apparently unaware that Clary was actually able to sing. Her confidence built until she was belting out the last few lines, her eyes slipping shut as the lyrics took total control of her body.
Oh lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I wanna be your left hand man
I love you when you're singing that song and
I got a lump in my throat 'cause
You're gonna sing the words wrong.
A soft applause filled the room as she finished, opening her eyes to admiring glances from people she'd never met. Her face flushed with embarrassment as her heart fluttered with anxiety. Is this how Jon felt on stage? It was a marvelous feeling, but she wasn't sure she could handle millions of strangers chanting her name. In her haste to become invisible once more, Clary failed to notice that one set of those appreciative eyes were golden.
X.O.X.O.X
Clary woke up in tangled sheets, sprawled out across the entirety of the bed, thanks to Isabelle deciding to rent a hotel room with Simon to ensure he wasn't thinking about scantily clad women all night. The sky was still dark as she peeked through the curtains, and she checked the clock to see that it was only four a.m. She settled herself back among the pillows, her ears honing in on the soft strumming of a guitar. Curious, she slid open her door and peered out, seeing both Alec and Jonathon's rooms, unsurprisingly, vacant. She stepped out further, finding Jace's bedroom door closed, yet the sound wasn't coming from there.
Clary padded barefoot to the main area, the quiet strumming emanating from the eloquent fingers of a blond boy that made her stomach erupt in butterflies. She scowled at herself. Wasn't she too old for butterflies? But the scene before her was pure perfection. Jace's back was bare, rippling muscles appearing beneath soft tanned skin, golden hair obscuring his face as his voice sang barely above a whisper. She itched to grab her sketchpad and capture the scene, but she didn't, afraid to ruin the moment. She stood there, entranced by words she could not hear, frozen by the notes slicing through the quiet night.
It was so different than the way he usually looked and sang. His body and voice were all rough edges on stage, screams and anger spilling over. But here, it seemed more like anguished, like a deep-rooted pain that had long ago been suppressed, but was now resurfacing.
All too soon, the music stopped, the soft notes replaced by an even softer voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Clary blinked, seeing his molten gaze attached to hers. Why was it that their nice encounters only happened in the secrecy of night, when the bus was empty and the darkness hid their words.
"I was awake anyway," she lied, settling herself across from him, forgetting she was only in a flimsy sleep set. It didn't matter. Everything melted away when she was with him, as if nothing else mattered nor had ever mattered. "That was lovely." Jace half chuckled, setting his guitar on the floor next to him.
"You weren't supposed to hear that." Clary's eyes widened fractionally.
"Why not?"
"Because it's about you." Clary's heart fluttered a bit, a small gasp escaping her lungs as she leaned forward.
"Now I want to hear it." Jace shook his head, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
"I suppose you will, someday." Clary drew her knees up to her chest, shivering a bit in the chilled air of the RV. "Are you cold?" His voice was uncharacteristically filled with concern as he draped a blanket over her shoulders. Clary snuggled into it as he moved next to her and draped a warm arm over her shoulders.
"Jace, can I ask you something?" She peered up at him through her lashes, watching his eyes flicker across her face for a long moment before he answered.
"I suppose, but I might not answer."
"Fair enough." Clary sighed as she leaned into his side, unaware of the intimacy of the moment as she inhaled a scent that could only belong to Jace. "Why are you so nice to me one moment and blowing me off the next?"
She was met with silence for the longest time until she chanced a look at him. His eyes seemed to be shimmering in the low light. "I…" he began, trailing off almost immediately. "I was raised to learn that caring about someone can kill you." Clary wove her fingers through his, looking up at his closed eyes. His face was a mask. On the outside, he was no longer Jace Herondale. He was something his life had conditioned him to be, some external protection that shielded who he really was and who he really wanted to be on the inside.
"Love doesn't destroy, Jace Herondale. Love is magical and beautiful and pure." Jace shook his head, a humorless snort following the opening of his eyes.
"How can you say that when the one you loved cheated on you and is no psycho stalking you across the country." Clary shook her head, curls spilling over her face only to be swept away by Jace's calloused fingers.
"I didn't love him, Jace. I was in love with the man I thought he was. I love my family. I love Isabelle and Simon. I love Jonathon. They make me whole. They make me happy. They make life worth living. Sebastian loves no one, Jace. His lack of love has driven him to a psychotic break. His loveless life makes him weak. Filling my life with love makes me strong." Jace looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, before she broke the silence. "Who taught you that, Jace? Who told you that a life should be loveless, that protecting others counted on your own unhappiness?"
Jace's fingers left hers to twist into his hair, a raw agony being pulled to the surface. She'd expected him to shut himself off, to close himself off to her the way he had so many times before to so many other people. It surprised her when he started talking and didn't stop, when he pulled away to bare his scars to her, to share his shame.
She surprised him when she didn't shy away from his marred skin, when she leaned in a brushed her tender lips along every scar before placing a final kiss on his unmarked heart. "Jace, your father loved you enough to protect you. He sacrificed himself so that you could experience that kind of love. Your father didn't want you to go your entire life thinking you killed him. He wanted you to know that he loved, and still loves, you. He wanted your life to continue to share the love he'd given to you."
"But I'm scarred, Clary. I'm so broken and beaten down. I am no man. I'm just a weakling."
Clary placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, allowing her sleeve to slip down, bringing the neckline of her tank top down and exposing her own mangled flesh. "We all have scars, Jace. It's how we choose to carry them that defines us."
Reviews for sexy singing Jace? *kisses*
All My Love
~BallinBlonde21
