Hey guys! An update! I finished this last weekend, a few hours after I posted the last chapter, so I have something to post today! As you might have noticed, I'm calling this an interlude because it is all from Isabelle's p.o.v and covers her and Simon's relationship up until where the story is now because you guys are awesome and voted to just include it here :) Like I said before though, this is a malec fic so there won't be any chapters that are just Sizzy, apart from this one. Actually, this one has both Magnus and Alec in it so I suppose it's not only Sizzy :P For those of you reading Been There Done That, I don't know when the update will be. Maybe sometime later this week after my exams are over? I don't know. Also, over the summer this might update twice a week but I'm not sure :)

Now why the hell do I keep making myself cry here? And it's just Isabelle's parts! This never used to happen! I was legitimately crying so hard I had to take a break from writing because I couldn't see the screen O.O I should stop doing this to myself.

Anyways, same thing applies here: you review my story and I'll review yours once I have the time :) Because otherwise hardly any of you review which is very sad :'(

14

When the ratty-looking boy Isabelle had first seen in her English class earlier that day plops down into the seat beside her, she isn't thrilled. Of course, it is marginally better than sitting alone on the first day of school because none of her friends have the same timetable as her. Still, he's not much of an improvement and she'd almost rather just suffer through the first few weeks being that awkward one who can never find a partner for projects. All well, maybe he'll at least be good at science; she certainly isn't.

Isabelle tries not to pay too much attention to the fact that he stares at her more than the screen the teacher's displaying their note on, but it's a nearly impossible feat. It doesn't exactly make her uncomfortable— she's used to catching everyone who doesn't matter's eyes —it's just that she finds it rather curious considering she hasn't even said a word to him. Isabelle doesn't concern herself with it though and simply carries on copying down the note she's beginning to think might be in some form of archaic Latin. At least, that's what it looks like to her.

And then all of a sudden the bell is ringing and she's throwing her stuff into a pile so she can get out of there as fast as possible and he's still staring at her. Isabelle pauses, standing beside his seated form, and glances down at him with a raised eyebrow and a perfect bitchy look in place on her face. She's mildly hoping it will make him stop looking at her like that, with warm brown eyes and a closed off expression she can't decipher. She hates not knowing what someone thinks of her.

"Can I help you?" she says, intentionally making the bitchiness bleed into her voice as well. He seems to hesitate, looking up at her carefully with this odd mixture of awe and sadness and admiration and warmth and kindness and for a moment she feels slightly scared. No one has ever looked at her with so much feeling, at least, not since Alec.

His face lights up suddenly, a gentle smile stretching across it that just scares Isabelle even more. He stands, long fingers wrapping around his books as he goes, and then they're face to face and she feels this urge to look away, feels like he can see so much more than anyone else before. She doesn't want him to.

"You're beautiful," he says and she's taken aback. Only Alec has ever called her that, and that was before— just before. "You shouldn't be so sad," he adds and then he's gone, classroom door swinging shut behind him and she's left standing there alone, shock keeping her frozen to the spot.

Sad? she thinks, frowning. Am I sad? She almost rolls her eyes at herself, pulling her pile of things closer to her chest as she moves to start towards the door. No, I'm not. I'm fine. I have no reason to be sad. Therefore, I am not. He's fucking crazy. Content, she flips her hair over her shoulder and marches out of the classroom purposefully, turning heads as she goes.

Later, she might wonder how he knew.

15, October

Isabelle scowls down at the bright pink phone in her hands angrily as she slams her locker shut. Of course her stupid boyfriend would break up with her over text, like the asshole he is. Well, it's his loss anyways and besides, she can have whoever she wants; she doesn't need him. She doesn't even like him, not in the slightest. Still, the jerk could have done it in person rather than over freaking text. So sue her, she can be as angry as she damn well pleases at him. He deserves to feel her wrath.

She tries not to growl as she makes her way down the winding hallways of the school to where her brother had decided he wanted to eat. It was probably that annoying redhead, Clary, who actually wanted to sit there and of course stupid Jace would just go along with whatever she said because he's a lovesick moron. God, it's like the whole fucking world is trying to throw other people's love in her face.

She's not jealous. Really, she's not.

She catches sight of Simon hanging around the tiny garden area out front— a pitiful display of four benches and a multitude of dead flowers and trees because that's gorgeous apparently— and groans. Isabelle throws herself down onto the nearest unsteady wooden bench as violently as she can and ignores the shocked look she gets from the boy in front of her. It shifts to a frown shortly and then he's gently sinking down onto the bench beside her, shoulder brushing against her own. She tries to shake the memory of the first day they'd met, of the strange words he'd said, and makes a point of shifting as far away from him as possible. Screw him and his stupid niceness. She doesn't want to talk to him, thank you very much.

She can almost feel him rolling his eyes as he simply moves closer to her and throws an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, opening his mouth to speak. Before he can though, she throws his arm off her angrily and crosses her own over her chest. He huffs out a breathy laugh that only serves to further fuel her current seething rage at the entire world and she turns to pin him with a sharp glare.

"What happened?" he asks, undeterred by her violent mood.

"Why do you care?" she snaps and he frowns at her, resting the arm he'd had around her on her shoulder in a move so gentle and kind that it's vaguely terrifying. He tends to have that effect on her quite a lot; bringing forth the small fear she has of the unknown.

"Isabelle," he starts, not noticing her wince at the way he says her name. "We're friends, right? Come on, what's wrong? You don't get angry over nothing." Isabelle has a brief moment then where she wonders when he became so comfortable with her, when he started to creep in close to her until the point where they've become friends. Because, if she's being honest, that's what they are. It's a strange concept to her; having a friend who is so far beneath her normal social standards it's almost sad. She shrugs it off and goes back to her boiling rage. She's much more used to that.

"The stupid, fucking asshole broke up with me over text. Over text," she says and she can hear a breathy laugh escape Simon again. "What?" she snarls at him, feeling even angrier and more wronged than before. She hates the whole world.

"I'm sorry. It's just, Isabelle, you don't even like him. Why are you so angry?"

"Clearly, you're missing the point here. He broke up with me over text. No one does that, Simon, no one." He's laughing fully now, his body shaking as he tries to stifle it with his hand and she shakes her head at him in a wordless expression of hopeless, you're so hopeless and then suddenly she's laughing too even though she has no idea why. It isn't funny, not in the slightest, and she's supposed to still be angry. Yet, it's like all of the rage is just suddenly gone. And then she tries not to feel so disappointed when Clary and Jace show up and Simon immediately engages in an animated discussion with the redhead, their moment having passed.

She doesn't succeed.

15, December

Isabelle watches as her brother passes them by without so much as a single glance their way, the glittery new kid at his side. She wants to say something to him, to reach out and ask him where he's going, why he hasn't been sitting with them recently, who this new boy is. She doesn't though, because it's Alec and she knows he won't answer her. That doesn't stop her wondering about this sudden addition to her brother's circle of people he might speak a few words to on occasion, because it's strange and unsettling and maybe it's actually a good thing. Maybe this will help Alec, in the way that she can't, and will be exactly what he needs. She tries not to get her hopes up too high.

When she turns back to the other three sitting around her, she feels this strange little tingle of something as she realizes both of the boys are hanging off of Clary's every word. They both have this look in their eyes like she hangs the sun and stars and their whole worlds revolve around her. It's a sight that makes Isabelle sick to look at, especially so when she glances over at Simon. Isabelle really hates that girl.

She purses her lips as she takes note that she really has absolutely no reason to be there, it's not like any of them are going to give her even a second of their day just to listen to a comment she might like to throw into their conversation at some point; they're all too focused on Clary's words of stupidity. So Isabelle simply stands up and walks away without so much as a nod to any of them, high heels clicking as she goes. They can all go screw themselves while she spends time with people who actually appreciate her, like that hot guy who'd been coming onto her lately.

Except that she doesn't go to the hot guy, she rounds the corner and quickly ducks into the girls' bathroom before anyone sees her. There, she slams a stall door shut behind her and curls up on the toilet seat, trying to convince herself she's not fighting back tears. Isabelle doesn't cry, she doesn't. She's tough and strong and independent and she doesn't get upset over the fact that her friends, that her own brothers, don't care about her at all.

It's always been this way, Isabelle being the odd one out who always comes after everyone else. Well, maybe not when her and Alec were younger, when he was her world and she was his and she never had to wonder if he ever really loved her at all. But when Jace came along, the golden boy with all the wit and the talent in the world, she knew she was no longer her brother's first choice. The two boys were closer than she thought she'd ever been to Alec and it hurt, it stung brutally and when she watched the way they were it felt like there was a knife being stabbed into her gut. Wasn't she good enough for them? Couldn't she keep up with their level? Why wouldn't they just look at her, for once?

And then there's Simon, who actually did look at her and seemed to see past the flashy bits of herself she'd put on display to attract just someone's attention. Stupid, stupid Simon who'd made her finally feel worthy, though she'd managed to convince herself she already did. Stupid, stupid Simon who in the end turned out to be just like her brothers and left her feeling even worse than before, pining after that stupid redheaded bitch like a sick puppy right along with Jace. Stupid, stupid Simon who throws her aside just like her brothers do the moment someone better shows up. What does Clary have that she doesn't? What's so special about her? Why do they look at her and not Isabelle? Why isn't she good enough for anyone?

Unwillingly, a sob chokes out of her and she feels a tear slip down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, trying to fight off the awful feelings in her with the annoyance at the fact she'll have to redo her make-up now. She doesn't leave the stall though, knowing there are more tears to come despite her efforts to keep them at bay, and she wraps her arms tighter around herself as she sobs into her knees. So long as no one comes in the bathroom, this is fine. No one needs to know how pathetic and weak she really is; that'll only make them care about her even less.

She doesn't know how long she sits there, sobbing as quietly as she can and fighting every tear that falls, but eventually she forces herself to stop and get up, get out of the bathroom stall and move to the mirror so she can make herself look beautiful again. She feels like crying for a second time when she sees her reflection because she's hideous, her makeup washed away in dark streaks down her cheeks. She runs her hands under the water spewing from the tap to test for temperature and then wipes away the black lines with it, rummaging through her purse for the make-up she usually carries with her. She knows it takes a while to fix herself, to make herself not look ugly anymore, but when she steps back to take in her newly done-up self, it's not enough. She's still not beautiful, not without the rest of the make-up she left at home.

There's a long moment that passes where she just stares at her reflection in the mirror. She touches her face, her arms, her head, the place on her chest where she can feel her heartbeat, and she wonders which part it is. She wonders which one is the reason she's alone. She wonders if it's her eyes or her weight or her hair or just her heart. She wonders if it's something else entirely, or if it's all of them put together.

When she finally moves to step out of the bathroom, knowing she couldn't succeed in making herself beautiful without the rest of her make-up, she hesitates at the door with her fingers curled weakly around the handle. She glances back over her shoulder at the mirrors behind her and purses her lips before she swings the door open and steps outside. Her heels click as she walks down the hallway, the way they always do.

Simon, Jace and Clary are all just starting to stand up when she turns back down the hallway she'd originally come from and she nearly runs into Simon as she does. He catches her with an easy smile that fades when he takes in her appearance, eyes scanning her face over at a million miles a minute. He frowns, but doesn't say anything as she shoves away from him harshly, hating the fact that he can probably see how ugly she is. Jace doesn't even seem to notice her at all.

She takes off down the hall quickly, in the opposite direction she'd come from, and tries to ignore the weight of his eyes on her back. She realizes it really doesn't matter, he'll go back to Clary in a second and forget she was ever there. Besides, he probably didn't even actually notice how hideous she is because he was still focused on the little bitch he calls his best friend.

For once, she prays that's the truth.

15, May

Isabelle is at a party with Magnus, some random chick from her school's birthday bash that she really doesn't give a shit about. He's ditched her already, gone off to find something to get drunk on because obviously there's no way either of them are going to get through this sober. She wonders briefly if it's strange that she doesn't mind when it's Magnus who's ignoring her. If it was anybody else, she wouldn't be feeling so indifferent about it. Maybe it's because she's known from the start that she's not his first choice, that her brother will always come before most anyone else for him. Maybe it's because she's hoping he'll get her brother back for her.

She scowls down at the red cup in her hand and sets it carefully on a table nearby, the cheap booze making her feel even sicker than the pitiful excuse for a party they've got going here. She really doesn't want to be here, but she knows Magnus needs this so she pushes back her disgust and forces her way through the crowd to the back door. The fresh air makes her feel marginally better and she sucks it in greedily for a moment before stepping off the back patio and onto the grass. She glances around at the swarms of people absently, hoping Magnus will get his fill of the wild life soon so they can go. She really, really, doesn't want to be here anymore.

And then her eyes find a mess of mousy brown hair and a stupid gamer shirt with a lame slogan on it and she feels the breath get knocked out of her. She doesn't want him to talk to her, though she doubts that'll be an issue with the way he's inhaling Clary's every word, so she turns and tries to race back into the house as quickly as she can before he sees her; if he ever tears his eyes away from the little redhead in front of him. Unfortunately, fate chooses this moment to remind her that it's against her and he catches sight of her right as she's about to slide the door open and slip inside to safety.

"Isabelle!" he yells as he jogs over to her and she winces, turning around slowly and plastering on a smile as she does. He stops in front of her, smiling back widely. "I should have known you'd be here too," he says and she immediately tenses, fake smile melting into a bitchy expression. Of course he would think that, that she's some slutty party girl, because when has anyone ever actually payed enough attention to her to realize that that's not her?

"Speaking of being here, what are you doing?" she snaps harshly and he looks slightly taken aback by the change in demeanor. A wary look crosses his face and he glances back over his shoulder at Clary, seeming almost guilty.

"Clary wanted to come," he says, turning back to face Isabelle and missing the brief clenching of her teeth.

"Of course," she spits out and he takes a half-step away from her, like he hadn't been expecting that. If she's being fair, he wouldn't have any reason to have been so really it shouldn't piss her off so much.

"Isabelle? You okay?" he asks and she narrows her eyes in a glare at him.

"I'm great," she snarls and then spins abruptly and yanks the door to the house open, stepping inside and throwing it shut behind her violently. She ignores the look he gives her as she storms into the heart of the party to find Magnus so she can drag his glittery ass home already. She is one hundred and ten percent done.

Sure enough, Magnus is there and she doesn't even have to say a word for him to understand that they're leaving. He does give her a questioning glance as he follows her back towards the door she'd just come out of but she pointedly ignores it and simply keeps marching through the crowd of drunk teenagers. She pauses at the back door, praying to everything on earth that Simon will have moved on from the yard, and then shoves it open and follows Magnus outside, heading towards the street behind the house where Magnus had parked his car.

But apparently fate still thinks she needs to be reminded that it hates her because just as she's about to climb into the passenger seat she catches sight of the ratty boy and his best friend. He's laughing, happy and carefree as he looks down at the girl in front of him with so much love evident in his eyes.

She hates the way it makes her sick.

16, August

It's Isabelle's birthday and she lays on her bed motionlessly, staring at the ceiling with her phone clutched against her chest. She tries to will it to vibrate, to receive a call or a text or just something to show that someone remembers. It's almost night already, the sky having gone a dusky grey as the sun sinks behind the horizon, and still nothing. Neither of her brothers have said a word about it either.

As if on queue, her bedroom door creaks open slowly and she sits up to get a better view of whoever it is. Alec stands at her door, looking hesitant and wary and unsure and everything she wishes he never was around her. He breathes carefully, stepping closer until he can sink down onto the edge of the bed beside her. He twists around to face her and for a moment neither of them speak, simply staring at each other.

And then Alec's face twists into a sad, guilty look and he reaches out to brush her hair behind her ear before pulling her against him in a tight embrace. It's been so long since he's held her, years full of a growing distance she can't cross, and she sinks into it desperately. She knows she's going to start crying soon and, somehow, her brother seems to know that too because he just presses her closer to him and rests his face against her head, like he'd done that night so many years ago when she'd come home to find her parents screaming at each other.

"Happy birthday, Iz," he whispers softly and she shakes with a silent sob that she doesn't let draw forth any tears. She doesn't want him to see her cry, not again. She's sick of crying, something she's done twice already in the past year. But it's so, so hard to fight the tears when it's the first time he's really said anything to her in so long, the first time he's called her anything but Isabelle.

"I'm sorry," she hears him say, though it's so quiet it almost gets lost under his breath.

"It's okay," she whispers back and he clutches her tighter, burying his face into her hair even more. She knows that this isn't going to last, that the next day when it's no longer her birthday he'll go back to pushing her away, but she's content just to have these few words with the brother she misses so much. She doesn't even care if this is all she gets for her birthday, if just a few precious minutes with him is all anyone gives her.

"I," he starts, but then hesitates. "I lo―" he tries again and she knows what he's going to say so she cuts him off.

"It's okay," she repeats, even softer this time. "You don't have to say it," she says and he doesn't. He just holds her close for another minute longer before standing and moving silently back out her bedroom door. It clicks shut softly behind him and she stares at it for a moment before she glances over at the phone sitting abandoned on the other side of her bed. She grabs it slowly, pressing the button on the side and watching the screen light up to reveal that she has a new text message. She swipes it open and laughs softly in a sudden bout of happiness.

From Simon, Received 10:43

Happy Birthday Iz

To Simon, Sent 10:51

You remembered

16, January

She sits on the stairs and cries for longer than she can keep track of, until her legs are aching and she feels like she's all but run out of tears. It takes many deep breaths before she manages to make them stop completely but the crushing feeling of loneliness doesn't go away. She needs someone there, someone she can just have a normal conversation with to remind herself that not everything is falling apart, that she's not losing all the tiny pieces of people she has left.

She pulls her phone out and presses the call button as hard as she can, still trying to breathe the pain away. She waits with shaking hands as it rings once, then twice, then three times until finally there's a click, a brief chorus of crackling noise, and then a soft greeting from the other end of the line that makes her let out a relieved sigh. She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the railing of the stairs.

"Simon?" she asks and she hears a crash before he curses softly under his breath.

"Isa― uh, hey, Isabelle," he stutters out awkwardly, clearly not having been expecting her to call. She finds herself letting out a quiet laugh, though she still feels like she's on the brink of tears.

"Hey," she says softly.

"So, what's up?" he asks, still awkward and she laughs again. It feels good.

"Nothing, just bored," she tells him, the lie slipping off her tongue easily like the thousands that have come before it. She prays he can't hear it, though she knows he won't.

"Oh, well, uh, yeah. Me too." A beat passes where neither of them speak and while she thinks he might be finding it uncomfortable, she relishes in just knowing there's someone on the other end of the phone. She relishes in just knowing that, for once, someone is there.

"Hey, Simon?" she whispers after another moment.

"Yeah, Isabelle?" he replies gently and she smiles, eyes still closed and head still leaning against the railing.

"Do you want to go out? On Monday?" she asks and hears him let out a breath. Actually, it almost seems like he might be hyperventilating.

"Yes! I mean, uh, yeah where?" She laughs for the third time this phone call and again it feels good, great. The sinking weight in her chest is getting lighter. She likes this, even if she knows he's still pining after Clary. She doesn't want to think about that, actually.

"I don't know, movies? Wherever you want to go." She tries not to sound too desperate, and thinks she succeeds though she can't quite be sure. It's Simon, after all.

"Movies sounds great!" he says and she can hear the excitement evident in his voice before there's a yell in the background and he's swearing quietly under his breath for the second time. "Sorry, Iz, I've got to go. I'll text you, kay?" She barely has time to reply before he's gone and she's left listening to the dial tone ringing in her ears.

He called me Iz.

Follow, favourite and review :) And for those of you who reviewed the last chapter, I'll read and review something of yours closer to the end of the week after exams soplease review again :'(