Hello! Next chapter ahoy! Thank you for all the reviews last chapter. Wow, this fic is very nearly on page one of 'most reviewed TMI fanfics' on here apparently? This is totally insane. And amazing. Thank you so much.

Annnd the votes are in! The winning option was… The aftermath of chapter 19. You guys love the angst, don't you? This special Jace's POV oneshot shall be up in May sometime. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. A tad shorter than it was supposed to be, but hey, it's the content that matters. And this chapter contains naked content.

Next chapter shall be up later this week or maybe even tomorrow? Enjoy and don't forget to review! x

The girl with the blonde hair pouts, pushing her boobs up with her hands – they almost touch her chin. "Do you think Jace will like these? This is my one shot to meet and wow him."

"You look amazing" her friend simpers, tying her auburn hair back into a ponytail. "Besides, I don't know why you're worrying… but then, I don't think Jace is into the whole big boobs thing."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… Clary Morgenstern had none to speak of."

The blonde haired girl gasps in horror, slapping a hand to her mouth. At first I think she's joking, being over the top on purpose, but she's not. "Oh no-! If he's into the boyish chest thing… what am I going to do?" she wails, bringing her thumb to her mouth, nibbling at it.

It's been getting worse all week. Today is the day Jace Herondale visits. The girls have been fighting, sabotaging each other's outfits and generally being bitchy. And why? Because they want to be Jace's new hook-up. And not just his new hook-up, his new girlfriend.

Everyone knows we've broken up. The magazines printed articles months ago all about it. I didn't read what was said, but Simon had.

And promptly torn the page out and tossed it into a bin, expression livid. Lies. Nothing but lies. Nothing even remotely close to the truth.

With Jace 'back on the market' as the girls say, it's open season for all. It's… funny. All these girls believe he's still sleeping with everything that moves. That he's still on drugs.

What a nasty shock they're going to get. At least, I'm hoping so.

A pair of girls in shorts so small they seem like thongs stroll past now, their bellybutton piercings glinting in the midday sun. They giggle and twirl locks of hair around their fingers, looking totally sluttish and ridiculous.

The blonde and auburn aren't done yet.

"What did he see in that Clary?" the blonde says, perplexed. "Have you seen her? She sits on her own all day. Or with that weirdo with the glasses. Her hair needs cutting, the split ends make me shudder. And those freckles! She looks like a little boy."

"And don't forget the French guy" the auburn sighs longingly. "He keeps hanging around with her. And he is so gorgeous. I'd do anything for a night with him whispering dirty stuff in French into my ear. Oh fuck."

The blonde sniggers. "Clary's probably fucking him already. Or right now. She must be pretty tight if the boys like her that –"

I slam my art book closed, fists clenched and anger bubbling away. How dare they?

They both jump a mile into the air, spinning around in their seats in the Traditional Art classroom, instantly paling when they see me. The blonde splutters out an apology, but I glare and stalk out of the room after gathering up my pencils and sketchbook.

When I go down to the cafeteria, Sebastian is sat there reading a book with the title in French, a slice of pizza set down next to him. The smell makes my stomach snarl.

Sebastian looks up from his book when I slide into the seat opposite, a smile creeping onto his face. "Hey!'

"Hey" I grumble, slamming my bag down onto the chair next to me a little too hard. Sebastian cocks a brow. "What's wrong? Haven't you just finished first lesson?"

"Yeah, but the hoes are out in force."

Sebastian's expression softens. "Ah," he says delicately. "Them. What have they been saying now?'

"Insensitive things, that's all. I'm over it."

A sigh and he glances down, pausing for a second before picking up his plate of pizza. "Impoli. Grossier. Want it? It'll cheer you up."

At long last, a small smile appears on my face and I take it. "Thank you." Before taking a bite I tear it in half and hand one piece to Sebastian who beams as if I've handed him a million dollar check.

Sebastian stretches his insanely long legs out before him, yawning with his dark eyes bleary. "Up all night finishing a composition" he sighs when I frown. Sebastian reaches down and there's a rustle as he retrieves a wad of paper from his bag. I take them when he holds them out for me to take.

I don't understand and of the notes and strange markings on the paper, the telltale sign of a pianist. Or is this sheet of music for a guitar? Either way, the name of the song is 'des dieux et des monsters,' which I don't understand.

"What does this mean?" I ask, tapping the title. Sebastian groans, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck it. I thought I wrote it in English. It means 'Of Gods and Monsters.' It's my bands name back in France." He taps a word below it that reads in English 'Withering Beasts.' "I write the lyrics for us. C'est amusant."

I'm growing pretty used to Sebastian's French, but he still makes me blink at times in confusement. He grins. "That means it's fun, by the way."

"Oui!" I laugh, still staring down at his lyrics. They're written in elegant French that I can't understand. Oui and non are the only words I know for certain. And other stuff like… uh… bacon. And egg.

Sebastian tuts. "It's not pronounced 'way' it's 'wee.' Where did you get the A from?"

Before I can reply, people file through the double doors. More specifically, scantily dressed girls. A few teachers follow in their wake. Female teachers I note, and all dressed much nicer than they usually are. Miss. Robinson doesn't have a speck of paint on her face, which is not normal at all. It's positively creepy.

The girls at the front are squealing and my heart sinks – it can only be for one reason. They are the entourage of fangirls. The hoe brigade.

I must be pale, because Sebastian looks startled. He leans forwards over the table, eyes wide. "Are you okay Clary?"

With a nod, I clear my throat. "I'm fine. I'm just not sure what to do right now."

"Go out and say Hello?"

"No." I feel like I'm going to be sick with nerves. He's not even coming into my class for fucks sake.

Sebastian sighs. "Just remember; it's only a week."

"Only" I say bitterly, handing him his sheet music and lyrics back. "What's the worst that could happen? Actually… no, don't answer that."

"In that case, you do know that this is where visitors walk to sign in?"

The chatter and giggling returns as the door is pushed open. It's not a half-naked girl that walks through though.

Jace strolls through the doors wearing black jeans and a dark grey t-shirt with 'Winter Is Coming' written in white. There's a guitar case slung across his back and with a jolt I realize it's the one I gave him for Christmas.

I still use his gift of an art card. It's his money. Why spend my own?

There is a pair of dark aviator style Ray-Ban's before his eyes. As he walks, his boots thudding lightly against the floor, he turns his head towards me and Sebastian, the only two in the smaller cafeteria.

Jace stops dead, very nearly stumbling. I can't see his expression through the dark sunglasses, but his posture is tense. We stare at each other for so long it seems like hours, but then Jace's head jerks away as his followers hare in after him. Without a word he carries on through to the reception to sign in, his strides longer I notice.

What a fantastic week this is going to be.

All through the day, it's impossible to not know where Jace is. Wherever he goes, the group of girls follow him, giggling to each other. I can imagine what he'd text me if we were still talking

Help. These girls won't leave me alone. THEY WANT THE D.

Another thing I notice is the glares the female population sends my way, as if they're warning me to stay away from Jace. That I've had my time and now it's theirs. Bitches.

The first day I see nothing of Jace except for his golden head among the crowds, the occasional flash of a smile. Sebastian hangs around with me the entire day, keeping me occupied and mind free of blond Rockstar.

Girls flock to Sebastian. They sigh over his accent, eyes glazed over while they stare. It's more than a little annoying. Simon meets with us at lunchtimes, but glances at Sebastian are far from friendly.

"I don't like him" Simon hisses Tuesday afternoon while Sebastian is in the lunch queue. "I don't trust him."

I scowl at Simon around my ham sandwich. "Stop being such an asshole."

"I'm not being an asshole, I'm just saying what I think. I don't like Sebastian. He's fake."

Jealousy. Simon is jealous. It's so obvious and frustrating. He makes so many new friends and I'm not allowed a single one that isn't female? Urgh, my patience is starting to wear thin.

Sebastian returns with a bowl of ice cream and two spoons, one he hands to me. I grin and open my mouth, arching a brow at him. Sebastian chuckles and scoops up a large spoonful of ice cream, placing it inside my mouth. Simon looks positively rabid.

"Mmmn" I laugh to Sebastian, licking my lips. "That's really good. Really good."

Simon discreetly excuses himself from the table and leaves. Sebastian cocks a brow, leaning back in his seat. "Your friend confuses me Clarissa."

I'm more annoyed than confused.

On Wednesday, me and the rest of the class file into Life Drawing, most yawning sleepily – first lessons of the day are always the most brutal. I have no company in this class. Then again, I have no company in all of the classes. Simon does music and Sebastian is on a different timetable than me. Just my luck. Only at break and lunch do I see them inside the college.

Miss. Robinson is positively bouncing off the soles of her feet as she stands atop the podium set in the middle of a circle of easels. She claps her hands together, exclaiming "right class, grab an easel, your charcoal sticks and sheets of paper and we'll get right to it."

The class grumbles as they walk slowly to an easel, clipping the sheets of paper to it and a few whine softly about charcoal stains on their nails. Babies, why are they even here if they're not dedicated? I choose the easel nearest the window for better light. I'd sell my soul for a coffee right now.

Miss. Robinson now clears her throat, stepping down from the podium and glances around at the circle. "Today we have a very special guest" she beams.

If…Oh hell. No. Don't say it.

"Since Sam our usual model took ill this morning, we searched for a replacement. And found one."

Jace's honey head pokes around the frame of the art office, a chipped mug of tea in his hands. "Is this the part where I strip?" he teases, a smile on his lips aureate eyes sweeping the circle of girls that openly gawk at him, hardly believing their luck.

And then he sees me and his grin falters. It's then that I know for sure he hasn't done this on purpose, that he didn't know I was in this class. Jace regains his composure and sets his cup down, walking out of the office in just a deep midnight blue robe with his legs bare.

I feel numb, the charcoal stick between my fingers barely there.

No. I can't do this.

Miss. Robinson openly ignores my pointed looks that I want to leave, my hands clenching into fists around pieces of charcoal, staining my palms inky black.

Jace smiles at the group, then turns his back to me, addressing them. "First thing I wanna say is 'Sorry in advance.' I'm not very good at staying still for a long period of time, so if I move, feel free to yell 'stay fucking still' at me."

This hurts. This physically hurts.

The girls around me nod, eyes glazed over and longing. Only two boys are in this class, and they both look more uncomfortable than me. Poor bastards are going to be hit right in the self-esteem.

And then Miss. Robinson tells Jace to strip and I swear I see every single girl lean forwards slightly, expressions rapt, attentive and fully awake.

Jace still has a good body, even after all these months. If anything, he's more muscular now. His tanned golden skin is inked with black tattoos, and some of them are new for sure. I don't recognize them from our days and nights in bed with each other.

One of the new tats is a Celtic knot at his right hip. And there's a large black snake twining itself around his right leg now, the head resting on his foot and the tail on his backside. I can't decide if it's tacky or cool.

The girl who gets the front view of him almost keels over, constantly dropping the charcoal. I, thankfully, get the side view where you can barely see anything. Well, unless he got a boner.

Go on Jace; get a boner and embarrass yourself. Please.

When we begin work, there's barely any scratching of lines being drawn, for most are still shooting stares at Jace who is deliberately looking directly ahead. Although, sometimes his neck twitches as if he wants to look my way but stops himself.

I stay quiet the entire lesson, drawing Jace without a complaint. It's not hard for me to draw him anatomically. My hands know his body as well as they know my own. They know where each muscle is, how they twist when he moves and how to convey that onto paper. How his shoulders flex and how his jaw clenches. But even with the inside knowledge, the drawings come out jerkily and childish. I can't concentrate.

The most painful part of the drawing is the side profile of his head. I occasionally have to glance at his face, but not often. Again, I know that angle only too well; the high cheekbones, the lips I've kissed so many times and the eyelashes that are a dark gold when you look closely. His longer than ever golden hair is ruffled today, slightly bedraggled as if he's recently pulled it out of a ponytail. He has a few breaks to rest his muscles, but he says nothing each time. It's not like he's doing a Superman pose, he's just standing there, expression blank.

"Clary," Mrs. Robinson whispers as she walks around, inspecting each drawing. "You haven't drawn the penis."

"I've been drawing a penis for the last hour" I say, just loud enough for Jace to hear. His lips twitch – a smile or a smirk?

When the torture is finally over, Jace mercifully back in his robe, the girls converge on him. Jace smiles and chats to them, but I can tell he doesn't want to. If anything, he probably wants to get away from me.

The girls take the hint when Jace shuts the door of the office, the blinds clattering closed as he gets changed.

As always, I stay behind to help with the tidying up, but today I do it as fast as I can. I have to be out of this room before he comes out and causes the entire situation to become even more awkward.

My teacher is still scrutinizing my drawings, tutting slightly. "These are terrible! It's like you've made no effort at all." She clears her throat. "I know you both have… history, but this does not excuse such poor work! I don't care what happened between you both. I don't care about the fact you cheated on him and –"

I stare. "Excuse me? Did you say cheating?" my anger flares and I snatch my drawing from her hands, temper finally exploding "cheating?! Maybe you should stick to your job, not reading utter fucking bullshit about me and him in magazines, huh?!"

"Clary!" a sharp voice calls now and when Jace walks out of the office now fully dressed, he makes a beeline for us. "Calm down" he warns me, then looks to the teacher, his expression stony. "What happened between us is none of your business. It really isn't. Clary didn't cheat on me, nor me on her. How about you shut the fuck up?"

Miss. Robinson pales. At more than two feet shorter than Jace, his expression is positively murderous, I don't blame her for feeling intimidated. Plus there is the fact his fists are clenched at his sides, muscle twitching in his neck.

"I'm sorry" she whispers. "I didn't mean it like that." A pause and she clears her throat, nodding to the rest of the easels. "You can leave Clary. I'll clean up myself today. And I'm sorry… I didn't –"

I don't wait to hear the rest of her excuses as I turn away and push past Jace, grabbing my bag from the hook and dash from the room fighting back tears.

For the next lesson, I spend it hiding in the toilets, my bag hanging on the back of the cubical door.

So the world thinks I cheated on Jace. Why am I not surprised? They don't know the truth, anything near the truth. Of course one theory is going to be…

It's ridiculous.

I tear out a wad of toilet paper and screw it up into a ball, throwing it as hard as I can at the closed door. There are more than twenty pieces now littering the floor by now. I'm sorry cleaners.

The bathroom door opens and I pull my legs up onto the closed lid, feeling like a total coward.

"Clary? I know you're in here."

It's Sebastian.

"I know what happened after class. Are you okay?"

Tears sting at my eyes once more. "They think I'm a cheater" I say a minute later. "Everyone thinks I'm a cheater. I didn't cheat on Jace."

A sigh. "Open the door Clary."

"No. I look awful."

"So?"

Using more tissue, I wipe my eyes and sigh, climbing down from the toilet to open the door. When I pull it open, Sebastian stands there with a worried frown on his face. "Need a hug?" he asks quietly, opening his arms and a smile twitches at my lips. I nod and step forward into his arms, letting him hug me as tight as he wants.

"If it's any consolation" he mutters, "Jace went up to the common room and yelled at everyone for thinking that you cheated on him. He was pretty angry."

"I don't care" I sigh into his shoulder. "I just don't care."

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't have locked yourself up in a toilet and cried. What… did Jace actually do? I know... Aria and all, but what happened exactly?"

With a sad smile I pull myself from Sebastian's embrace, shaking my head. "Sorry. That's Jace's business. Yes, I'm angry at him, but –"

Sebastian shakes his head. "Non, non, it's fine. I understand."

In silence I twine my hands with Sebastian's own, smiling faintly. "I'll be fine, okay?"

"Your definition of 'okay' is far different than mine Miss. Morgenstern."

No one bothers me the rest of the day at college. The lessons are quiet and I don't see Jace again.

But I do hear him.

In Graphics, the classroom is situated right next to the music room. I recognize the song being played, the piano keys and lyrics. It's one played at a concert so long ago.

"And even if it sounds crazy, darling, I won't let you go."

"Even if it don't ever stop raining, darling I won't let you go."

I shove my earphones in, turning on a song that will deliberately drown out the sound. All around me girl's pause to listen, occasionally shooting me a jealous glare.

Idiots. They think Jace is playing it for me.

Jace yelling at half the college has two effects I find out at lunch. The girls are divided; half smile at me now, waving at times too. And the rest, the fangirls, they're positively menacing with eyes narrowed and possessive.

Apparently Jace has been called into the head's office. Ha, probably something to do with raging at a group of students. Oh and Robinson.

The nude drawings of him have been photocopied and handed out like crack. Everyone wants to see Jace Herondale naked. By the end of the day, every girl in the college owns a copy.

I wonder what the girls are going to do tonight when they're alone in bed (!)

After college, Sebastian announces that we're going back to my place… to bake-?

"You American's are terrible" he laughs on the walk back, a large bag of ingredients in his hand from his locker. "You need to try making your own food, oui? Not… McDonalds."

"Don't you have work with Emily today?"

"Non. Tomorrow."

I wrinkle up my nose. "What kind of baking are we talking about here? Pies? Cookies?"

Sebastian shakes his head. "Traditional French food dear Clarissa. Croissants. Every morning you come in minus breakfast looking like a… " he frowns. "Dead walking. Zembie. Non, zombie!"

"I do not resemble a zombie in the morning!"

"Have I seen you on The Walking Dead lately?" Sebastian laughs, jumping aside when I aim a punch at his arm. "Eating brains?"

"Only yours, but there's nothing there to eat."

"Ouch! Vous me blessez!"

Sebastian is a godsend. We spend the evening making croissants, baguettes and macarons. We even make some quiche, although Sebastian eats the ham before it's even inside the pastry bowl.

When Simon returns from band practice at seven, the apartment is full of French food, floured handprints almost everywhere. Me and Sebastian sit before the TV catching up on Game of Thrones, a giant bowl of homemade honeycomb ice cream between us.

"Have I walked in on a date?" Simon snorts, closing the front door and shrugging off his coat. Sebastian laughs from next to me, dumping the spoon into the bowl. "Why would you think that?"

Simon has had a bad band practice; I can see it in his expression. In this mood, he can and will say anything without thinking of the consequences.

"You're always hanging around Clary" Simon yells, kicking off his boots. "And don't feed me shit that you're both just friends. I was here for Clary first! Before Jace, before you!" he storms off to his bedroom and slams it shut, locking it like a bratty child.

Sebastian sighs, setting down our bowl of ice cream. "I should go."

"No. Why should you? You've done nothing wrong." Simon needs to be reined in. He's not the fun-loving guy he used to be anymore.

Why can't he accept that I don't see him as anything other than simple best friends?

Sebastian climbs to his feet, midnight hair tumbling into his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow." He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead, muttering against it "don't kill him, oui?"

"Oui."

When he leaves, Simon doesn't emerge from his room once. Not even to eat.

How odd it is having Sebastian around, but not in an unkind way. He isn't Simon's replacement, or even Jace's. He's simply… there. A friend that actually gives a shit.

He's attractive. Only a fool would deny it. He doesn't make my heart beat like Jace had, but there's something there. Something that can't be ignored. It's been three months, and of course I can date again.

No one owns me.

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