Hi, how are you all? I've got a new story coming right up here which I hope you enjoy!
Just to say, it's been getting kind of busy lately with workloads and stuff and I'm thinking I might give this fanfic a break for a while, maybe try write something else. So this is probably the last chapter for a while guys, sorry about that!
I just have to say, though, thanks so much everyone for all the super nice comments and support - even just you all reading my ramblings is amazing and makes me swoon. Thank you!
Anyway, on with the last hurrah - this story is based off a prompt idea by imcrazyanditscontagious, about the song Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus. I've used some of the lyrics directly from the song here, they're definitely not mine and they belong to the band.
It was super fun to write, thanks for the idea!
- s.i
Teenage Dirtbag
The wall cuts into my back as Sebastian shoves me against it, knocking the breath from my lungs. His face is twisted into a snarl, which isn't surprising. Sebastian has only two facial expressions - smirking and growling - and he alternates them frequently.
"Fight back, you bastard!" Sebastian hisses, pulling me forward and slamming me into the wall again. The impact shudders through right to my bones, and I'm yelling at myself internally for getting into this mess in the first place.
If you want to get technical, it all started years ago. In the bursting and unhygienic school hallway, where I'd first crashed into Clary Fray.
And by crashed into, I literally mean crashed into. We were both late for class, sprinting down the hall, me with a backpack and Clary with a teetering pile of books. I'd nearly knocked her off her feet, since she was so short, and her books and pencils had gone everywhere.
"Crap, I'm sorry!" I had said, scrambling to pick up her stuff. Clary had pencils in every colour of the rainbow, and a sketchbook which had fallen to the ground open. I only got a glimpse of some of her drawings before she shoved the sketchbook closed, but they were surprisingly good.
"No, it's my fault," Clary had said, getting to her knees to pick up the rest of her books. She was blushing almost as red as her hair, which came to her shoulders in perfect fiery waves. She smelt like flowers.
And then I had temporarily forgot nearly every rule of basic grammar. "Sorry - here - my fault - was too fast - " I forced myself to shut up before Clary decided that I was deranged.
"Don't worry about it," she'd said, and given me a smile. And honestly? Forget blue moons and shooting stars, Clary's smile was a sight you couldn't forget.
I tucked away the image and kept it, over the years, as Clary sat one seat in front of me in Spanish class, as she passed me in the courtyard, as her shoulder brushed mine at a crowded party.
The funny thing was - or the tragic thing, really - was that Clary probably didn't even know my name.
But I won't start the story there, because the action really only kicks in this morning. I'm driving to school with Alec and Isabelle like usual, Isabelle flicking through the car radio for songs she likes.
Something loud and poppy fills the car, and Isabelle grins over at me as I drive. "You know the band Wheatus?"
"Never heard of them." I say. "Seriously, Isabelle - Wheatus. What kind of a name is that?"
Her name is Noel, I have a dream about her
She rings my bell, I got gym class in half an hour
Oh how she rocks, In Keds and tube socks
"Straight rubbish." Alec remarks from the back seat. "Change the station, Iz."
Isabelle sticks out her tongue at him in the rear view mirror. "You have no taste."
But she doesn't know who I am
And she doesn't give a damn about me
'Cause I'm just a teenage dirt bag, baby
Yeah I'm just a teenage dirt bag, baby
Listen to Iron Maiden, baby, with me, ooh
I wince. The song hits just a little bit too close to home. When Alec leans forward in his seat to change the radio station, I'm glad - even as Isabelle shoots him a glare.
She starts a rant about how boys just don't understand good music and goes on to tell Alec he should loosen up more, honestly, but I'm not listening. I'm too busy trying not to think about a certain girl with red hair and a smile that could stun anyone who sees it.
I wonder what a teenage dirtbag means. I have an uncomfortable feeling I fit the category.
Incriminating evidence: I play on the school football team of alpha-male jocks, I have a long list of ex-girlfriends and still no idea about what love means, and schoolwork is not one of my top priorities, to say the least.
Add that to blond hair and a passable set of muscles from football training, and I'm basically a walking cliche of a teenage boy - in the hollywood movies, at least.
"Jace, are you listening to me?" Isabelle sends an elbow in my general direction.
I dodge without taking my hands off the wheel. "Always. I hang onto every word you say, my darling."
"You," she announces, "are even more annoying than Alec. Why do I even hang out with you two losers?"
"Because deep down you love us," I say, and Alec nods.
Isabelle sighs. "Very, very deep down, maybe. I'm trying to bury it."
I have football training before school, and I wave goodbye to Alec, who goes off to find his new boyfriend Magnus, and Isabelle who no doubt goes off to find some new gossip.
When I jog over to the football pitch to meet up with my team, no one so much as nods in my direction. I'm confused for a moment as to what they're focusing on - before I hear it.
Sebastian Morgensten. Captain of the football team, world-renowned asshole, and the main reason why I've never talked to Clary beyond a few casual conversations.
Reason being - he's her boyfriend.
Sebastian's standing in the courtyard not far away, his white-blond hair easily recognisable even if I can't make out what he's saying. Or yelling, actually. Yelling right at the girl standing opposite him, with a ponytail that flashes red in the light. Clary.
Even as I stare, Clary folds her arms. She doesn't look scared, she looks pretty damn angry. I see Sebastian's eyes widen as she snaps back at him before storming off through the yard.
Sebastian blinks after her like an idiot, before slowly turning in our direction.
Everyone in my team immediately turns away and starts warming up, pretending we weren't all ogling at Sebastian just a moment before. I start running laps up the pitch, pulling out my earphones.
I started bringing earphones to school when I realised Clary was in front of me for Spanish class. I wanted to stop myself listening in on her conversations with her friend Simon, her voice distracting me from my verb conjugations.
I wanted to block her out, and music helped. But my earphones never helped block out Sebastian's arm around Clary in the hallway, the way she'd wait for him at the end of game, the oversized football jumper she wore to class with Morgenstern written on the back.
Some things don't go away, no matter how loud you turn up your music.
I listen to piano stuff, mostly. Not many people know I play - it kind of ruins my whole jock vibe. But in truth, I spend hours sitting at the piano stool. I listen to Shostakovich, Chopin, Messiaen, anything.
I focus on my breathing in time with my run, letting the music wash over me, trying not to think about Sebastian and Clary and what had just happened.
A minute later Sebastian himself arrives, fuming and yelling for order. My team stops running, coming over to where he stands.
The coach isn't here yet, so Sebastian leads us through drill after drill until we're all staggering. If he's mad about whatever happened with Clary, he's not doing a very good job of hiding it.
One of the juniors finally pipes up, "something happen with your girl, Seb?"
Sebastian glares at the poor kid, mouth twisted. "She's a bitch."
I want to turn my music up louder. But I'm an idiot with a death wish, so instead I say, "don't call her that."
Sebastian's head jerks up. Everyone stares at me, and the junior kid snorts.
"What did you say, Herondale?" Sebastian's arms are folded. While his hair's so blond it's practically white, his eyes are dark glinting pools.
I swallow, but hold my ground. "I said, don't call Clary that."
He takes a step forward. "Do you even know her? Or, let me guess, you're trying to be a gentlemen."
A few of the boys snicker. I glare them into silence, but Sebastian only takes another step forward.
I've seen this before. Sebastian's like a lion, slowly stalking his prey - taunting it, almost - before he strikes. It makes me want to roll my eyes.
I pull out my earphones and let them hang out of my shirt over my neck. "I wouldn't call myself a gentleman," I say after a moment. "More of an eighteenth century rake, maybe…"
Someone laughs, and Sebastian's face contorts from a smirk to a snarl. Like I said, those are the only two expressions he uses.
His fingers twitch at his side, and I can tell he's longing to punch me. And honestly, I wouldn't really care if he did.
It's not that Sebastian's a stranger to a fight. He's been in two this year already, and a third one would possibly expel him. But Sebastian doesn't seem to care as we lock eyes, his teeth bared.
But luckily - or unluckily, I don't even know - the football coach chooses that exact moment to appear with a whistle. "Morgenstern, what are you doing?"
Sebastian's eyes don't leave my face as he takes a step back. "Nothing, sir."
I give him a wink.
Her boyfriend's a dick
He brings a gun to school
And he'd simply kick my ass if he knew the truth
He lives on my block
And he drives an I-Roc
But he doesn't know who I am
And he doesn't give a damn about me
The bell's about to go for classes, but I'm taking my time to walk from training.
My earphones are back in again, so it's kind of surprising that I even hear Clary in the first place. I'm just past the gym when I hear a stifled sound from the other side of the building - almost like a sob.
I stop, taking out my earphones. If there's people behind the gym, it wouldn't be the first time. At school, behind the gym is a pretty famous meeting spot. All you have to do is hear two people were seen there, and you'd know they were hooking up.
I don't want to walk in on that, but it sounds like the person is alone. I hear another muffled sobbing noise, and my feet start moving before I'm fully aware of it.
This is a bad idea. I think, gritting my teeth. Just leave them alone.
But I've already rounded the corner to the little area of grass between the gym and the fence, cocooned by twisted old tree. And curled up against the tree trunk is Clary Fray.
She's leaning into her knees, so I can't see her face. Her hair is coming out of its red ponytail, and I can see her shoulders shaking ever so slightly.
My heart breaks for her, even as I'm debating whether I should just run away. She probably wants to just be alone, so -
A twig crunches under my foot and Clary's head shoots up. Oh, crap. I watch her face change from surprise to embarrassment to defensiveness. "Go away." She says it strongly, but her voice cracks slightly on the last word.
I'm frozen. Sure I deal with girls a lot, but I've never been in a situation like this. Why isn't there a handbook for this kind of thing? "Are you okay?" I ask finally, stupidly. Obviously she's not.
Clary scrubs furiously at her face, trying to rub her tears away. "Please just - " she takes an unsteady sigh, "please just go. Class starts any second now."
And it's the way she looks at me when she tells me to leave that makes me decide to stay.
I walk over slowly, so as not to startle Clary, and sit down beside her against the tree. I leave enough space between us so another person could have comfortably sat there, but Clary sucks in a breath all the same.
"What are you doing?" she asks, looking over at me. Her eyes are liquid and burning, a shade of green I've never seen on anyone else.
"Just sitting here." I say softly. "I happen not to really care about first period classes."
Clary looks like she wants to smile but can't quite make herself. She looks away.
The bell goes, and neither of us moves as we hear the sound of people pushing past, laughing and talking and stomping. The noise sounds far away, like we're in a bubble.
"You're on the football team." Clary says finally, biting her lip and looking straight ahead. She's not crying, but tear tracks still line her cheeks. "I watch the games sometimes - I recognise you."
"Yeah." My voice is quiet. Usually I'm cocky, flirting and showing off, but something tells me that's not what Clary needs.
"Sebastian's a good player," Clary murmurs, "but a terrible person." She sniffs.
"He's a complete tool," I say, and that earns a smile from her.
"I'm sorry." Clary says after a moment. "We don't even know each other."
"I did know you were going out with Sebastian, though." I look over at her. "The whole football team did."
Clary leans her head back against the tree and shuts her eyes, and I see a tear escape from her lashes. "We just broke up this morning - I expect you probably know that too."
"You dumped his ass, I'm sure," I say, and she smiles again. So I guess I'm not failing…?
"I won't even miss him." Clary says firmly, like she's daring me to contradict her. "But I just… I didn't realise how deep I'd gone until it was too late."
I take in a breath. "Did he - "
"Sebastian didn't really do anything." Clary said quickly. Her eyes were still closed, and her voice was unsteady. "But I'm sure you know how he loves controlling everything, from him being football captain."
"That's true." I'm watching the way her lashes cast curved shadows onto her cheeks, and then I'm feeling my own cheeks heat. I look away, down at my shoes.
"It was a while before I realised it." Clary said softly, and she sniffs again. "How I was just another one of Sebastian's trophies. How I hadn't thought about myself for so long, everything just revolved around him." Clary opens her eyes, finally. "I can't even remember when I stopped looking for his respect. Only that I shouldn't have."
Her hand is splayed on the ground near mine, and it would be so easy for me to take it. But I don't move, except to say, "you're free now."
When I look over at Clary she's crying again, and I can see she's trying to hold it back because I'm there, which fills my chest with a strange sort of ache. "It's not about Sebastian," she whispers, staring down into her lap. "I'm mad at myself more than I am at him. I - I'm trying to find myself again. I can't remember - " she chokes, slightly, and covers her mouth with her hand to stifle it. When she does, I see slight purple bruises around her wrist that look like fingers.
I want to kill Sebastian.
Clary's shoulders are shaking, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her hand is still near mine, and now I don't hesitate to take it.
Even though we're strangers. Even though she probably doesn't even know my name.
If Clary's weirded out by me suddenly holding her hand, she doesn't show. She just squeezes my hand tightly and takes deep breaths. She's still got her eyes shut, and I feel strange watching her so I look away.
Finally, when her breathing has evened out a bit, she loosens her grip on my hand and smiles shakily. "I'm sorry. You don't have to stay with me, you know."
I want to. "I don't mind," I say, and reach in my pocket to pull out my earphones. I offer her one, and she slips it in as I shuffle through my music.
"Classical?" Clary says after a moment. "That's cool."
I put the other cord in my ear. "Cool, or weird? I hear both."
She looks over at me and smiles. "Cool, definitely. I just wasn't expecting it."
I wasn't expecting this, but I don't say it. I'm not sure when Clary and I moved closer to each other, but now I'm sitting right next to her, leaning against the tree. I try to think about the piano chords and harmonies instead of the feel of Clary's hand in mine, her breath getting steadier and steadier.
We sit like that for a long time.
When the bell goes for second period, both of us jolt. Clary swears under her breath. "I'm so sorry - we'd better go."
She stands up quickly, handing back my earphones. I stand up too, reluctantly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Clary smiles, not quite meeting my eyes. "Thanks, Jace."
And for a moment, all I can think is holy crap, she actually knows my name.
I smile back, and we make our way out of our hiding place to the loud stream of people walking to their next class. And of course, I walk right into the last person I want to see.
Sebastian.
He's with a crowd of other boys, some I recognise from football. His eyes narrow as he takes in Clary standing next to me, and the place we'd just walked out of. Behind the gym.
This is just perfect.
Sebastian takes a step forward, eyebrows raised. "What a nice surprise, Herondale. Looks like you picked up one of my - "
"Leave him alone," Clary snaps. She doesn't look at me.
Sebastian folds his arms. "Don't get me wrong, Clary darling - I'm happy for you. But I think you could do a lot better than him."
"None of your business," Clary glared at him.
"And," I added, "I think I'm pretty top notch."
Sebastian glared at me. "You know what, Herondale? I think it's time you learnt some manners." He steps forward so he's right in front of me. "Stop skulking round with my girl."
"She's not yours." I say, quietly but without flinching. "People don't belong to you, Sebastian. They aren't possessions."
Sebastian blinks, and then tilts his head with a smile. "Sounds like you're asking for a fight, Herondale."
And before I can open my mouth, his hands are on my shoulders, shoving me back into the wall of the gym. How did I get into this mess again?
By now a crowd of people have gathered around, pausing with their schoolbooks still clutched in their arms. A lot are grinning, I can hear people yelling for a fight. School's like that - mouths are hungry for the next gossip, the next entertainment.
There's only one face I'm searching for, though. Clary's pushing over to us, shock and anger warring over her face. "Sebastian, get off him!"
One of Sebastian's friends pulls her back and she whirls on him with a snarl. It would have made me smile if not for the fact that out of nowhere, Sebastian's fist is flying toward my face.
I scrape back across the wall, missing the brunt of his blow. He manages to hit my jaw anyway, and my head hits back hard into the bricks.
He shoves me into the wall, pulls me back, and then does it again. "Fight back, you bastard!"
And I want to, so badly. It would be so easy to lunge forward, hands in fists -
But I can hear Clary yelling of the crowd, "No, Jace stop, please - " And while people are trying to hold her back, her eyes are desperate as they lock with mine. She shakes her head fervently.
And that makes me go still as Sebastian punches me again, hard enough that I see stars. Everything's shifting and tilting, and my head feels hot. People are all yelling, jarring, shoving to see.
Sebastian's grabbing my shoulders, his nails digging in. He's right in my face as he shoves me against the bricks again. My knees are giving out, and suddenly I'm on the ground but I don't remember falling.
"You thought you could take me on?" Sebastian hisses, standing over me, teeth bared.
I'm struggling to focus on his face and my head is pounding, and I can still hear Clary screaming at us to stop. But I'm thinking about the dark bruises on her arm and the way she'd tried to cover up her sobs and everything hurts too much.
"I'm sorry, Clary," I mutter, and then I'm pulling back my leg and kicking with all my might. Sebastian's taken by surprise, his knees giving out under my foot. He trips to the roar of the students nearby, and as he falls I'm already swinging up with a punch.
I think about Clary's smile and the way she talks faster when she's excited and the sketchbook full of her drawings, and I wonder if Sebastian ever knew how lucky he was.
We're on the ground together, dirt flying. I can't feel any of the punches he's throwing at me. People are yelling the usual "FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT," and I know it's only a matter of time before we're caught, but I don't care any more.
I can't see Clary in the crowd.
But then teachers are there, yelling and clearing people, hands on my shirt and Sebastian's and yanking us apart. One of the teachers - Mr. Starkweather, I think - is yelling about the school code and utter disrespect and the principal's office.
But as I let myself get marched away, I'm still scanning desperately for Clary - and I finally see her at the back of the group with a few girls tugging on her arm. She's not looking at me, or Sebastian. Her face is turned up to the sky like she's asking a question, and her hand is over her mouth.
"Clary - " I try to say. But she doesn't hear me, and she doesn't turn around.
Oh yeah, dirt bag
No she doesn't know what she's missin'
Man I feel like mold
It's prom night and I am lonely, lo and behold
She's walkin' over to me this must be fake
My lip starts to shake
How does she know who I am?
And why does she give a damn about me?
I don't go back to school for the rest of the week. Technically I didn't start the fight, but the fact that I actually threw punches was frowned upon.
Sebastian, though, is a different story. He has now been in a total of three fights this year, and hasn't yet turned up to school. No one knows if he's suspended or actually expelled, but rumours fly round for ages afterwards.
Walking through the corridors on Monday is like being a minor celebrity, people yelling my name and high-fiving me and I barely know who they are.
Alec stays by my side, lips pressed tight. He hasn't really talked to me much in the last few days - he's mad at me for being so reckless. Isabelle, on the other hand, thinks I'm brilliant. She recounts the story to everyone who will listen, in more and more vivid detail every time.
But I just feel… empty. Not triumphant, definitely, but I can't bring myself to feel guilty either. Not when Sebastian deserved it.
I look for Clary all day, but I can't see even a flash of red hair.
Football training is after school, but both Sebastian and I were kicked off the team. I might be allowed back next term - but I miss it already. As I'm walking past the oval with my bag, I can see the team already warming up, and I feel twitchy not joining them.
Instead, I walk over to the gym and look behind it. Empty.
I don't know what I expected - why the hell would Clary want to see me? But I'd let myself imagine she was waiting for me, and now I just stand there in the grass alone.
I watch the tree's branches sway in the wind, leaves floating to the ground. Then I turn and walk away.
And once again crash into someone - only this time it's someone I want to see.
Her red hair is up in a bun, strands coming loose that she quickly tucks behind her ear. Her eyes are wide, and she's so beautiful it takes my breath away.
"Clary?"
"Jace," Clary says, taking a quick step back. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." I don't know what to say, how to tell her that I've been thinking about her all week and she's driving me mad. "I was looking for you."
Clary looks down at her shoes. "You shouldn't have been caught up in… that. I'm really, really sorry."
"I'm not," I say gently. And I mean it. Clary looks up, surprised and wary and maybe a little bit glad.
"I didn't want you to fight him," she says after a moment. "I told you to stop, and then you - " her breath comes out in a rush as she touches one of the bruises on my cheek, "you got hurt."
"It's okay," I say, but my voice comes out slightly uneven. Because damn, how are you supposed to think when Clary Fray is touching your face?
"I hate that it was you, not me." She drops her fingers and I inaudibly exhale. "But Sebastian saw me as an object, not a person - I don't know what I expected."
"He's a complete asshole," I say.
Clary blinks, and then laughs. She looks up at me. "I'm glad I met you anyway, Jace."
"Well," I can't resist saying, "everyone is." But when Clary raises her eyebrows, I add, "I'm glad I met you, too." More than you know.
For a moment we just stand there, looking at each other. Then Clary finally says, "do you want to, maybe, uh…"
"Stay in touch?" I ask, and I'm smirking a bit now.
Clary flushes. "Yeah. It's - it's hard to find friends here." She sighs, and then grins. "Proper friends, I mean - who get in fights they shouldn't because they're dumb boys with hormones."
I snort. "Teenage dirtbags, you mean."
Clary laughs. "Exactly."
Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she bites her lip. "I gotta go."
"Me too," I say. Alec and Isabelle are probably waiting for me.
"Listen," Clary begins, and she's flushing again, "I - "
"Yeah?" I raise my eyebrows. We're standing kind of close again.
Clary takes a deep breath, opens her mouth again, closes it, and kisses me.
For real. Clary Fray is kissing me. How did this happen?!
And I'm kissing her back. It's soft, cautious, like both of us might be scared away at the slightest move. But her lips are soft and her fingers are warm against my face, and it's Clary Fray and she barely knows me but somehow it's okay.
Then Clary stumbles backward, eyes wide with spread lashes, and we stare at each other. The tops of her cheeks go red like her hair, which is shifting in the breeze. She's beautiful.
Clary mumbles something - an apology, I think - and then she turns and runs. I watch her go, slightly stunned, and I raise a hand to my mouth. Surely that wasn't real.
But as Clary disappears into the distance and I stand there, shock is replaced by wonder.
I hear a car honk not far away - probably Alec - and I run out onto the football oval in the direction of the car park. But then I stop, panting, grinning like an idiot, and start yelling into the sky.
The football team training on the other side of the pitch stop and gawk, but honestly I couldn't care less. I yell and yell and then drop to the ground, looking up at the sky.
The same car honks again, and my phone starts ringing in my bag, but I stay on my back for a moment more grinning at the endless blue.
Clary Fray knows my name. And soon, she'll know my number.
I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you ooh'
Ooh yeah, dirt bag
No she doesn't know what she's missin'
Ooh yeah, dirt bag
No she doesn't know what she's missin'
Thanks thank you thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Thanks for keeping up with this kinda weird fanfic, please drop a comment and let me know what you thought, and have an awesome week!
Signing out for a while, but I will be back... :)
- s.i
