"Only the good die old
That's what they told me
But I don't know."
-Imagine Dragons - The Fall
oOoOo
So here he was, back at the scene of the crime. Jonathan's eyes flickered more than once to the table where he and Isabelle had shared their first kiss, his mind replaying the moment again and again.
"We close in an hour" the girl behind the counter told him as she started his order of a strong black coffee. "Being New Years Eve and all."
Jonathan nodded jerkily, preoccupied with his thoughts. "Sure, okay." He checked his watch, sighing internally; how the hell was he going to break the news to Isabelle that their parents were fucking? And had been doing that for years, probably?
Jonathan forced out a smile and a Thank You as the waitress bought him his coffee, setting it down before him. The liquid was scalding on his tongue, but he didn't give a shit. He barely even felt it he was so wrapped up in his thoughts.
My father is the reason why her mother is never home, Jonathan repeated inside his head. He's probably the reason, indirectly, that she started drinking and feeling depressed. For fucks sake.
This couldn't go on. This morning was all about him breaking off what little he and Isabelle had before things got too complicated. It tore at him, the decision, but he had to.
The door chimed as it was opened and Jonathan heard the familiar clack of high-heels upon the tiled flooring. He didn't look up as Isabelle took the seat opposite him. When he did sneak a look, he caught a whiff of something that smelled suspiciously like vodka and groaned. "Have you been drinking?"
"Just a little one" Isabelle told him, setting her bag down upon the table and pulling out her purse, counting out coins for a coffee. "It's New Years Eve, after all. Let me off just this once."
Jonathan's expression darkened. "Just this once. Now, as to why I called you here. We need to talk."
Isabelle snorted loudly, causing the waitress that was coming over to ask for her order to shoot her a filthy look. When she left with her order, Isabelle leaned over the table and said, thoroughly unembarrassed "We kissed, we fucked, we both had a great time. Get over it."
"Well, what about now? Where do we go from here?" Jonathan scowled, gripping his coffee a little too hard. "Yes, it was really fucking fun, but what now?"
Isabelle arched a brow, choosing her words carefully while the waitress deposited her coffee in front of her. As soon as she was out of earshot, Isabelle told Jonathan "I'm not apologizing. If you want to apologize, say it now. But I'm not sorry, at all. I really needed that last night and I don't regret it even a little."
Jonathan was stunned. He unclenched his hand from around the scorching mug, flexing his fingers a little. "Well, this is unexpected" he admitted. "I was expecting you to be the utter opposite."
"You don't know me" Isabelle told him quietly. "I'm not sure if I know myself, actually. But what I do know is that I want to do it again."
"Come again?"
Isabelle smirked, raising her cup to her lips briefly. "If we're being crude, yes; I would like you to make me come again."
He totally hadn't meant it that way and Isabelle knew. She rolled her eyes at Jonathan's forced silence, setting her cup back down. "Look – I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you didn't spend half the night wide awake because you were thinking of yesterday afternoon."
Jonathan looked her squarely in the face, saying defiantly "I was not awake all night thinking about what we did." He'd been awake more than just half the night thinking about the previous afternoon. The few times he had tried to sleep he had failed utterly and completely, ending up having to fist a hand around his cock and relieve himself in the bathroom numerous times before he ruined his black bed-sheets.
"You're such a terrible liar" Isabelle told him softly, dunking her little finger into her coffee and bringing it to her lips, sucking on it. Jonathan groaned internally, looking away. "Don't do that."
"Why not?" Isabelle challenged him. "Bring back good memories? Have I given you a boner in the middle of a café?"
Jonathan's expression was sour. "No." Yes.
She knew he was lying. Isabelle smiled triumphantly, leaning over the table once more. "It's just a proposition. We both enjoy the others company, so... why not make it beneficial for both of us?"
Jonathan just stared. "Are you suggesting what I think you are? Seriously? I'm not going to become your fuck-buddy, Iz. I'm not that low."
Isabelle arched a brow. "Are you really going to give me that line when I know for certain you have been fucking-"
"Okay, whatever" Jonathan growled, eyes flicking to the waitress as she passed. "Look – I'm not doing that anymore. And I can't do it with you. I'm sorry Isabelle, but I think it's best we don't see each other anymore." Abandoning his cup of coffee, Jonathan rose to his feet.
He couldn't do it. He just couldn't tell Isabelle about their parents. Already he'd hurt his sister beyond repair, he couldn't do that to the girl he had feelings for as well.
Isabelle grabbed his hand as he reached for his scarf, a deep frown marring her usually pretty face. "Jonathan, what's wrong with you?" she asked, not at all angry, just confused. "I thought..." Jonathan sighed heavily as a blush spread across her cheeks. "I thought you liked me, after your words yesterday. And you were so passionate and sweet when we had sex, I've never felt so... Have I read into this wrong, because I don't think I have? I'm going to go out on a limb and tell you that I really like you, Jonathan."
With a heavy heart, Jonathan pulled his hand away. "Look, Izzy, we can't do this. We can't."
"But why?" She persisted, face growing closed and guarded.
He so badly wanted to tell her the fucked-up truth, but once again, didn't; What if their parents got married? What if they got so serious, that they grew to truly love each other, then that happened? They would become step-siblings and the thought horrified Jonathan. They wouldn't be related by blood, but the thought alone disgusted Jonathan; it would be like being in love with Clary. Breaking up then would break both their hearts and for the sake of himself and Isabelle, Jonathan placed his hands upon Isabelle's shoulders and shook his head and lied through his teeth.
"I don't feel anything for you, Izzy. Nothing at all. You were great for the sex, but that's all."
Isabelle flinched as if he'd hit her. She shoved his hands away and backed up, refusing to let the tears show as she threw down her money for the coffee and told Jonathan stiffly "okay. Just... okay. Goodbye Jonathan."
Jonathan watched her leave the café with yet even more guilt bubbling in his stomach. But it was for her own good. She'd get over this, he was sure. Maybe not straight away, but she'd be fine.
He sunk back down into his chair, staring into the depths of his coffee, feeling nothing but misery trickle through his numb body.
"I cared about her more than I thought" Jonathan muttered to himself as he flicked the side of the coffee cup gently. "Much more than I originally thought. Fuck."
He was going to regret this, he knew it.
oOoOo
It was that morning that Jace managed to walk for the first time since he'd lost his leg.
With both of his parents out shopping for the baby and Clary upstairs asleep as per usual, Jace had been watching TV alone. He'd grudgingly come to appreciate the bad daytime TV during the past months he'd been stuck in bed.
Today's show was a repeat of NCIS. And not an episode he was a fan of.
As the show declined rapidly, so did Jace's interest. His throat was parched, but getting up and using his crutches were exhausting, even with the muscle he'd gained from army life and training. It wasn't like he could even reach the pair, for they had tumbled out of his reach yet again.
Jace sighed and glanced down at the remains of his leg, glaring at the prosthesis coldly. "Right," he snapped at it, "you're going to do your fucking job, okay? And if you don't, I'll use you to bludgeon Clary's father and brother." Part of him wanted to bludgeon the pair with his leg.
Swallowing hard, Jace gripped the sofa arm and heaved himself up onto his good leg, testing his balance before setting the prosthetic down too and slowly letting go of the sofa arm.
"Tiny steps" Jace muttered, testing his footing as he stood unsteadily in the middle of the room. "Not too fast or you'll face-plant on the wall. Or floor."
Then, carefully, cautiously, Jace raised a foot and took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest from exhilaration. After the first step, he took another, scrabbling to get the feel of his new leg and force it to work for him.
It took him a long time, but Jace managed to make himself a cup of tea, standing up the entire time. The only moment he wobbled violently was when he was forced to lean down to retrieve the milk, but he recovered gracefully.
A "holy shit-!" announced Clary's arrival. Jace turned on the smooth and shiny kitchen floor, stumbling a little in the process to face her astounded expression as she stood staring at him from the doorway.
"I made tea. How about that, huh?" was all Jace said, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips as he returned to his cup. Footsteps and Clary walked over to his side, a broad smile plastered across her face. It was the first smile Jace had seen on Clary in days.
"Jace, you're walking!" she laughed, eyes bright and excited. "You're actually walking! Did you get up without any help? Or – Or hold onto the wall?"
"Nope" he replied proudly. "I'm now a fully functioning cyborg." He'd barely finished the last word before wobbling so violently that Clary, concerned, grabbed his arm to steady him. Jace rolled his eyes at Clary's pointed look. "Fine. I'm still a little rusty."
Clary patted his arm twice, shaking her head a little in amusement. "At ease, soldier."
"Yes Ma'am" Jace immediately replied, adding "I'd snap to a salute but I'm afraid I would most likely fall over and crush you beneath me. And I'm not wearing anything under these sweatpants."
Dirty thoughts and images immediately assaulted the pair, but where Jace kept his poker-face easily, Clary blushed a bright red that very nearly matched her hair, only just managing to stop her gaze from wandering south.
"Okay, maybe I didn't need to add that last part" Jace mused, watching the red spread across Clary's face. He still would have said it just to see that blush of hers. It was cute.
Clary arched a brow. "Two can play at that game, you know? I'm not wearing a bra, or panties."
Don't you even think about it Jace warned his body as he felt his cock twitch to life at the mere thought of Clary minus a bra and panties. Don't you fucking dare.
Clary's blush deepened impossibly more. "I'm not being perverted or anything, I just can't sleep in a bra. They hurt, you know?"
"Can't say I know from experience" Jace smirked, wishing he could run out of the room or sink into the floor as he fought to keep his erection from growing and – heaven forbid – showing. It was starting to feel like fighting a losing battle. "So... why no panties?"
After spluttering for a few seconds, her whole body aflame by now, not only her cheeks, Clary retorted with "well why are you wearing nothing under your sweats?"
"I like to let the wind blow free down there" Jace smiled angelically, raising his cup of now cold tea to his lips and taking a sip, watching Clary's eyes widen even more over the rim. After sighing heavily in defeat, Clary turned on her heels and strode from the room, her body hot in more ways than one.
"I'm going to go home for a while" Clary called to Jace as she pulled on her boots and coat in the hall, squirming slightly at the heat pulsing in her abdomen. "I need to collect some stuff while they're not there."
"Okay" Jace called, sighing in relief – now he had the time and chance to sort his growing and uncomfortable problem out without running the risk of someone walking in on him.
As soon as the front door snapped shut, Jace abandoned his cup of tea and made his way upstairs, keeping a firm hold on the railings at all times.
"God I need to get laid" Jace sighed in frustration as he flung himself into his room and onto his bed, glaring up at the ceiling as if it had grievously offended him. "It's been so fucking long. Maybe I should have let Aline ride me that time."
That was a disgusting thought, even he knew; Aline had treated him like shit, like a show-dog, and here he was wishing he'd let her fuck him just to get it out of his system.
Jace sighed and buried his face into the pillow beneath his head, picking up the familiar scents of Clary. Her perfume always reminded Jace of extremely sweet pomegranates mixed with roses. It was intoxicating, much like the girl herself.
He'd almost forgotten that Clary had been sleeping in his bed while staying with them. The memories of her small, soft body pressed against his own those few times caused him to forget how to breathe for a second. Jace exhaled loudly, turning over and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling once more with his heart pounding in his chest.
She's driving me insane and has no idea that she's doing it Jace thought, feeling oddly annoyed about it. And I can't tell her, because she might not even like me in that way.
Jace had asked out too many girls to count during his school days, tossing them the same old recycled line and snagging them instantly, not a care in the world. They'd be in his bed that very night if he played his cards right.
But with Clary, he was nervous. Nervous of her rejecting him if he took the plunge and asked her out officially. But that kiss, however desperate and how upset Clary had been... it had meant something, right? Jace knew he wasn't an idiot, misreading the signs between them both; they had something, but what?
"Women" Jace huffed, thrusting a hand past the line of his sweats and inside, curling his fingers around his fully erect length. "War was easier. All you had to do was follow orders, do your routines on time and correctly and shoot straight." Feeling sour, his hand began moving. Slow at first, but then faster.
"I don't know what to do with Clary other than the fact I want to fuck her senseless" Jace growled to himself, hips arching involuntarily in time with his strokes, the blood rushing loudly in his ears. Venting his frustrations out this way always cleared his head. "She's smart, strong and beautiful and a right little fucking spitfire. God those lips of hers... they look like-"
"You know... if you're going to whack one out, you might want to do it a bit quieter."
Jace almost fell off the bed from shock. He scrambled up into a sitting position, ripping his hand from down his sweatpants instantly while swearing out "fucking hell dad-!"
Stephen rolled his eyes and sighed heavily from the doorway. "You're lucky it was me and not Clary. She had to come back in to grab the keys."
Jace flushed and shrugged, trying and failing to look casual and uncaring. "I really like Clary, so what?"
Once more, his father sighed. Stephen's eyes flickered to the empty shelf that was next to the TV. It had once held Jace's trophies, his achievements in sport and music. But they were all lying in pieces in the basement now since the boy had gone to great lengths to smash them into scrap a few weeks after his return home from the hospital in Bethesda. He'd spent a long time in there, and when he came back, his mood was far from pleasant.
"If you like her that much, just tell her" Stephen told him flatly. "You are a grown man. Act like one."
Jace cocked a brow. "I doubt romance is the first thing on her mind right now. She's just technically lost her mother. I don't think she'd react well to me strolling up to her and saying 'hey there Clary! I've been harbouring deep feelings for you for quite a while. Do you also feel the same? Because if you do, we should date and bang. Not in that order if you prefer.'"
Stephen ignored him. "Look Jace—you know her much better than I do."
"I'll figure things out, okay?" Jace retorted brusquely. "I've got a lot on my mind as well. I rang Imogen earlier to tell her I'm in. She wants to meet up with me this weekend and show me around the studio and offices. Oh, and my prosthesis fitting is in a matter of days. And on top of that, James Carstairs's fucking wife keeps calling me. And when I don't answer, she messages me."
Stephen's eyes widened slightly. "I didn't know that. Why is she so adamant to talk to you?"
Jace felt almost guilty as he muttered "James is dying and he... wants to talk to me. To thank me for saving him in Afghanistan." He furrowed his brows. "But I didn't save him. He came off much worse than me."
"You should see him, I t-"
"No!" Jace immediately yelled, eyes flying wide in fear. "I can't and I won't."
Stephen's expression was disappointed, but he let it go. "Okay. Now – will you be making an appearance this evening?"
"Appearance-?" Jace was confused. Stephen grinned, his eyes glinting playfully. "It's New Years Eve, and you know we always go down to Central Park to watch the fireworks and the ball drop. I've been thinking about it... we could take you down early so you can get a seat. And Clary if she wants to come."
Jace grimaced. "I'm not sitting there for hours on end in the freezing cold over a bunch of fireworks. I can walk."
"Barely. So does this mean you're not coming?"
"No" Jace told his father firmly.
Stephen nodded a fraction. "It's fine. I guess we could always head around to the Lightwood's. Maryse is having a party and you need to see more of Isabelle and Alexander. You used to be such good friends with them."
"I babysat them when they were kids" Jace groaned. "That's all."
Stephen snorted. "You stayed friends with them well into your teens. Isabelle was so against you going to Afghanistan. I thought she'd maybe gotten through to you that week before you were due to leave."
She had made him have second thoughts. The then fifteen, almost sixteen year old girl glaring up at him with eyes full of tears and cold fury had tried her damned hardest to stop him and had almost succeeded.
"She didn't" Jace lied quietly, wishing he'd taken the girl's advice and stayed home. Even Alec had begged, and he was far from the begging type. But no... he had leaped headlong into war, hell-bent on becoming a hero and famous.
God I was a dumb idiot, Jace groaned inwardly. He sighed. "Fine, I'll go tonight. Izzy messages and calls me as much as bloody Tessa Carstairs."
"And..." Stephen paused. "What about Clary? Will she want to come?"
"I'll ask her" Jace promised, mentally making a note to tell his father later on that if Clary refused to go, he would too. She didn't deserve to spend New Years alone, curled up in bed with the misery continuing to eat away at her.
oOoOo
"No" was her curt reply the instant he asked when she returned from grabbing her clothes while her brother and father were out. Jace nodded. "I suspected as much. That's fine."
Clary fidgeted with the button on her coat, eyes worried and darting backwards and forwards from Jace to the window. "I'm just... worried that Jonathan will make an appearance seeing as it's at Isabelle's."
"He wouldn't dare" Jace assured her, voice and expression equally as dark. "Not unless he wanted to get his face kicked in by a metal foot."
A small, shy smile graced Clary's face. It made Jace smile sadly and raise a hand, touching it to her cheek gently. To his surprise, she didn't pull away.
"I'll stay with you tonight, yeah?" he told her, reluctant to pull his hand away, calloused thumb stroking her cheek gently. It felt good, touching Clary. A small electric current seemed to be zinging him from where his fingers made contact with her. "I don't want you to be alone. And I'm not the party type of guy anymore."
She still didn't pull away as she replied quietly "you don't have to do this. Go out, have some fun."
"Nah" Jace shrugged, finally pulling his hand away, his heart galloping a thousand miles a second from the feel of it.
"You're so stubborn" Clary groaned, unzipping her coat and shrugging it off, slinging it across the back of the sofa.
Jace grinned triumphantly. "I'm pretty sure you knew that already, little carrot-head."
Clary froze. "Did you just call me carrot-head, you lemon-brain?"
From the crack in the kitchen door, Celine watched the pair, whispering excitedly to Stephen as he finished putting away the shopping "I can't wait for their wedding. Oh, my old tiara will look beautiful with Clary's hair. I really hope their children inherit Jace's eyes and Clary's hair. They'd look divine together, and so unusual. Our little boy is growing up, I'm all of a dither."
Stephen made a noise of disapproval. "You shouldn't spy on them. What's going on between them is exactly that... between them."
Celine straightened up, a disappointed expression plain upon her face. "They're just so adorable" she whispered. "Jace is completely taken with her."
"Yes" Stephen groaned in exasperation, grabbing his wife's hand and tugging her away. "Now leave them alone."
Celine snorted loudly. "They'll kiss tonight, you know that as well as I do. The moment Jace moves out, Clary is going to be over there so much she'll end up moving in with him. And then they'll be having sex left, right and centre until-"
"Celine!" Stephen called, not loud enough to be heard in the other room. "Hush. Leave them be."
oOoOo
Clary, Jace and his parents spent the rest of the day playing Monopoly at the kitchen table. After a long and furious battle of properties, it all boiled down to Jace and his mother. It amused Clary to no end to watch Jace get annihilated at a board game by his own mother.
"I let you win" Jace immediately told her as soon as she let out a cry of triumph, folding his arms across his chest. "I was feeling nice."
"Bullshit" Celine smirked, grabbing the final few notes of Jace's away from him and waving them in front of her face like a fan. "You've always been a sore loser when it comes to Monopoly, my dear Jonathan."
Clary loved spending time with the family so much she dreaded the day when she had to leave them. She adored Celine and her exuberant nature, always embarrassing Jace when she got the chance; the image of toddler Jace riding a unicorn at a playground with a wide grin on his face would forever be Clary's favourite. But then, there was always the one where he was five and trying on his mother's red lipstick, completely covering his face in scarlet. He'd looked beyond adorable with his blond curls.
As soon as Celine and Stephen left for Central Park later that evening, Jace breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god. I was seconds away from grabbing the other photo album and setting fire to it. My hair when I was thirteen... there's no way in hell you're seeing that monstrosity. Word to the wise; never let my mother cut your hair. It made bowl-cuts look the very pinnacle of fashion."
At eleven, there was a knock on the front door. No, not a knock, but a series of pounds and a yell of "Jace! Clary! It's fucking cold! Let us in!"
Utterly confused, Clary left Jace sat on the sofa, abandoning their talk about how much they both hated a certain book series and cautiously opened the front door.
Isabelle shouldered her way in, groaning in disgust at the cold. "Spring better fucking hurry up" she groaned, tugging her white fur coat more around her. After her came two more figures that she recognised; Isabelle's brother Alec and his boyfriend, the extravagant Magnus Bane. They each were holding what looked like boxes covered in brightly illustrated pictures. Clary caught the words Big Bang and frowned. "Are those fireworks?"
"Yep" Isabelle told her, turning on her insanely high heels to face Clary. "Jace's dad rang me and told me that you were both planning to spend the night alone, and I thought 'how dull!'So I made Magnus steal some of the fireworks from the party at mine and we then took my car. Wasn't hard to make him do the actual stealing– all I had to do was offer my new Rimmel London mascara. I'll buy more at the weekend."
Clary arched a brow at the boy she didn't know well at all, finding no fault in his outfit of tight red leather pants and military style black boots. His t-shirt was black, frayed artistically and sparkly, spattered with silver sequins. On top of it all, his leather jacket matched his pants in colour, sticking out like a sore thumb next to Alec who was wearing sensible clothes of two plain midnight blue jumpers beneath his black trench-coat.
They're so different, she frowned internally. The complete opposite – Magnus is so loud and Alec is so shy and quiet.
Magnus had wandered over to Jace and was trying to make the young man agree to having his prosthesis made-over with brighter colours.
"Just touch it and I'll shove one of those fireworks up your ass" Jace warned him half-heartedly before turning to Isabelle. "So what? Why are you all here, exactly?"
Isabelle sighed in exasperation, as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. "We're going to have our own little party, you dumb blond. We're going to let some fireworks off when the clock strikes midnight. And next year, you'll be seeing a lot of me, Jace. Of Alec too. We're your friends, even if you don't care about us anymore."
Jace looked faintly startled. "I do care about you guys. But I've got a bone to pick with you, Alec." His eyes narrowed. "Since when were you gay? Is Sparkle-pants here your boyfriend-?" he jerked his head in Magnus's direction.
Alec blushed. "I did tell Izzy that we shouldn't have bought him, but she insisted."
"So he is your boyfriend?" Jace asked stiffly, gazing suspiciously at Magnus who was now glaring at Alec.
"You told me he knew" Magnus hissed at Alec, looking indignant. Alec's already red cheeks turned a deeper shade of scarlet. "I knew you wouldn't come if... well." He shuffled awkwardly, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.
Jace rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I know now. Makes sense though, all the times you watched Titanic as a kid and always told me you thought Leonardo was pretty, not Kate."
"Jace-!" Alec spluttered, very nearly dropping his box of fireworks. Isabelle rolled her eyes and grabbed them before they tumbled to the floor, snapping out "come on, let's go and set these up. We've only got half an hour now."
Still incapable of words, Alec followed his sister, casting the occasional glare at Magnus who was smirking broadly behind him, a lock of midnight hair swinging in front of an eye.
"He also thought Tom Felton was cute" Jace told Clary as soon as the now squabbling trio opened the back-door and went out.
Clary scoffed. "Tom Felton is cute."
"If you like white-haired rats that need a wash."
Once more, Clary scoffed. But this time it was in amusement. "You do know he doesn't actually look like that?"
"Whatever." Jace waved a hand as if brushing the subject away, groaning as he pulled himself to his feet. Clary made a move to help him but he shook his head. "I'm fine, just need to get my balance."
Isabelle especially was stunned when Jace walked outside, making a move to hug him but thinking better of it.
Jace planned on doing something at the stroke of midnight. It was beyond frightening, but it would finally shed some light on what he and Clary had. All evening after his parents had left he'd stared at her lips constantly, trying to make himself move over and kiss her. But each time he started to lean in, he made himself sit back, or do something to disguise his true intentions.
You're such a coward, he told himself the entire night, pinching his good leg each time his courage gave out. His good leg was really bloody hurting by now from how many times he'd pinched it.
"Are you okay?" Clary asked Isabelle as she joined the girl on the bench that had been cleared of snow. Isabelle nodded, not meeting Clary's eyes. "I'm fine. I just suffered a severe disappointment this morning, that's all. I'll get over it."
"Need to talk about it or-?"
"I'm fine. What about you? Are you okay? I heard about... well, your mother."
Clary stiffened. "Who told you?"
A shiver crept down Isabelle's spine – Jonathan had told her.
"Jonathan did. By accident. He sent me a text that was meant for you, apologizing for what he'd done." A little white-lie couldn't hurt, right?
Clary shrugged, sagging right in front of Isabelle. "He never resent it to me. He's not contacted me once since that night I found my father with that black-haired bitch. She was the school receptionist, you know? The one he was banging? That Ms. Trueblood?"
And with that, Isabelle's world shattered. Her hands tightened around her glass to prevent them from shaking, blinking back the tears of anger from her eyes.
Her mother? Could it be true? Isabelle knew that Trueblood was her mother's last name before she married, the name she reverted back to when she divorced her husband. Isabelle had been surprised her mother hadn't made her and Alec drop the Lightwood name.
So that's why... Jonathan broke things off, Isabelle thought numbly, not watching Clary get up and cross over to where Jace was stood watching Alec and Magnus attempting to light the fireworks as the clock inside the house pinged, announcing it was midnight.
He knew, Isabelle thought fiercely. He knew that it was her. He must have recognised her in one of the photos when he left after...
Isabelle didn't know what to do with the new information but to stare at Clary as she smiled up at Jace. It was evident that Clary didn't know the truth, that Jonathan hadn't told her. Otherwise, would she even be talking to her? Isabelle didn't think so.
Isabelle sighed and closed her eyes, the first of the lit fireworks streaking up into the air, whistling as it went before exploding in a shower of green and red sparks that were dulled behind Isabelle's closed eyes.
She'd deal with this, but not that night.
"It's midnight on New Years Eve" Jace told Clary quietly, cupping her face into his hands as the fireworks exploded overhead, the cheering and screams of excitement springing up all around them mainly from Magnus. "And I'm going to kiss you, if you want me to?"
Words whirled through Clary's mind like a paper boat caught in a whirlpool, but in the end, no lines were formed. She couldn't even string together two coherent words as she tried to convey that she wanted him to do it. Life was for the living, she decided. Turning her back on it just because her mother was dead was not going to solve anything, just make matters worse.
Clary nodded once.
"How cheesy can you get?" Magnus laughed at the sight of Jace wrapping his arms around Clary and drawing her in for a long and passionate kiss. Alec elbowed him hard in the ribs, tugging his boyfriend back towards the fireworks, hoping against hope that Magnus didn't expect him to compete right here and now.
Isabelle rolled her eyes as her gaze dropped from the fireworks to the quartet before her; they were all kissing. Quite hungrily in the case of Clary and Jace, she noted.
She couldn't help it; she wished Jonathan was here now she knew just why he had pushed her away. And she wished she was getting kissed too.
A/N: And a new chapter! Last night I finally finished plotting how the story will end. I'm laughing evilly even now. But for now, kisses! Proper kisses! This is not a drill! But not for Jonathan and Isabelle. What shall we call them? I've been calling them Jizzy, myself. But yeah... not the best ship name if you're trying to be clean-minded! Thanks for the reviews! We're getting so very close to 500! I'm blown away! Can we get to that number with this chapter? Let's have a shot at it!
Snippet for next chapter.
"A date" Jace suddenly said, breaking the silence.
Clary blinked in surprise, utterly taken aback. "A what?"
"A date," Jace repeated firmly. "I'm taking you and my brand new leg out for a date."
"Sounds... kinky with your new leg along for the ride," Clary mused. Jace snickered. "On the subject of my new leg, we should name her."
"Her? Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Date next chapter! Whoop! And we should totally name Jace's new leg something cool. Let's have a laugh and leave me some suggestions! Maybe he's secretly a Transformer.
Don't forget to review! Thanks for reading! x
