Hiiiii, guys. It's so ironic that it's MS Monday. Sooooo ironic. I feel like I should clarify this before anything else: the real-life version of MS suuuuucks, and it ended badly, and did I say it sucks? Because it does. After, like, years of avoiding the guy MS is based on, I ran into him today at the mall. We ignored each other and it was literally the most stressful thing ever. Anyway, I died, and it was just funny that it happened to be on a Monday. Life's a lil bitch.
Thanks to my homeboy IWriteNaked for her fabulous comments and her gr9 friendship, and to spikeyhairgood (for listening to me talk about the same person over and over; you're the real MVP), DeathCabForMari (you are fab fab fab and yes), LuckyAsLockhart (#jackass), and clarissadele (because you're gr9 and we feel each other and yes). You guys are the best.
To the "Kathleen"/musical guest: I don't mind if you give me song suggestions! I love checking out new music all the time 24/7, so it would be nice! Also, I'm glad you liked the chapter. :)
And this time you cross the line leaving me in the dark
But I will light the way without you (without you)
And this time I realize you could have had my heart
But I'm not going down without you
You were putting on a show, putting on a show
So I'd rather be alone, rather be alone
Take another step and I'll lose it
Sick of hearing all your excuses
Breaking down your walls, breaking down your walls
I'm not waiting for your call, waiting for your call
Say another word and I'll lose it
Everything you do is so useless
Before I have to go, before I have to go
I just wanted you to know, wanted you to know
You're on your own
"On Your Own" by We Are The In Crowd
"We're on a break," she says, pushing past me and making her way into my bedroom. I close the door, fumbling with the lock momentarily, and run to my room, where Isabelle has, of course, dramatically plopped on my bed.
After I process her words, my mind immediately goes to Friends. But then I realize the most important thing, which is that, hey, she said those words. "What?"
"Simon and I are on a break."
"Yeah," I tell her. "I got that. Care to elaborate?"
She lifts her head to look at me. "Well, you know how he left for Rochester yesterday, right?" After I nod, she continues. "Right. Well, I started thinking."
"And God forbid that happens," I say, causing her to glare at me.
"Anyway," she says pointedly, "I started to realize that, you know, our future is fast approaching, you know? Like, college apps are due in the fall, and we may not be together next year." She sighs. "And he's gonna be away for a while, so I asked him if we could take a break. You know, see other people."
"Wait. You suggested the break?" She nods, and I make a confused face, like, what the fuck, dude. "Then why did you come in all upset?"
"Because I don't know if I even want to see other people. I mean, I'm in love with Simon! It's just that, well, he's the only guy I've ever been with, and I kind of wanted to see what it'd be like with someone else."
I roll my eyes at her. "Is my life seriously not enough proof of how lucky you are?"
She rolls her eyes right back at me and scoffs. "Yeah, that super amazing ex of yours is definitely a terrible person, Clary."
"It's not that," I say quickly, shaking my head. "It's not. It's just that…why would you ever go chasing for something like that? All I want is what you have with Simon. That's why my love life is so painfully pathetic. You already have what the rest of us spend forever looking for."
Her eyes widen. "Oh my God, I've fucked up. What if he starts seeing someone? What if—"
"Look," I tell her. "If it means that much to you to know, then tell him. Ask if it's okay to just try it out once. It's just, like, a super weird situation, you know? But I'm sure he'll get it."
She nods for a while, the movement gaining strength as the seconds pass by. "Yeah. Yeah. I mean, this is Simon. No one gets me like he does. Right?"
I nod. "Right."
"So we'll stay on a break until July," she says, and she's never sounded so happy about there being something potentially wrong with her relationship. "Awesome. Thanks, Fray."
"You're welcome, Lightwood."
"What's new with you?" she asks.
I shrug. "Nothing. Really, nothing. My life's as dull as ever."
"No art classes this summer?"
"I haven't found anything we can afford. Luke and Mom are in saving mode for college." I sigh. "It's so unfair."
"Get a job?"
"Because I haven't tried that."
"Right. Sorry."
I shrug again. "I'm used to it."
I lied. I'm not really that used to not affording things. Then again, I'm not used to asking for things in the first place. Mom's always given me everything I have—I asked for my phone, yeah, but for my birthday, and same thing with my laptop. I've never really been the kind of person that just shamelessly asks for things. I know how things work in the house. I know we can't really spend and spend and spend until we drown on new things. But I really wanted this.
"Maybe I can work out a deal with Luke and Mom," I say. "I work at the bookstore and at the gallery, and I get classes."
"That wouldn't be bad," she tells me. "Good thinking."
"Yeah."
"Think you could score me a job?"
"Isabelle Lightwood? A job?"
She smacks my shoulder. "What? Just because we've got money doesn't mean I can't work."
"You're one of the laziest people I've ever met. Ever."
"I am so not lazy! I work out and wake up early—at least before noon, unlike some people."
I sigh. "As much as I'd love to, I don't think we can afford to hire anyone new."
"Hmm. I could be a lifeguard, right? Like, at a community pool or something."
"You could be a lifeguard," I agree, and we drop the whole job talk.
It's become pretty clear to me now that Isabelle just wants to keep busy. It makes sense, what with the whole taking a break from Simon thing and all. Still. I know she's gonna wanna hook up with someone. I'll need to call Sebastian; he probably knows some half-decent guys who don't go to our school.
The two of us decide to just look at clothes online for a while, with Friends, of course, playing in the background. Isabelle makes a comment about how she hopes Simon doesn't react the way Rachel did, and then we keep doing our thing. She leaves at around three, and then I have pretty much nothing to do for a while, so I just stay in bed and watch Friends until I hear someone come home.
I walk outside when I hear keys jiggling to find my mother coming in. She's carrying groceries, and I watch as she sets them down on the counter. "Thanks for the help," she says sarcastically.
"Sorry," I reply.
"Did you clean your room?"
I frown. "No."
"Clary, I very specifically asked you to clean your room, because it's Father's Day tomorrow, and Luke's family is coming over."
"Then it'll be clean by tomorrow," I say matter-of-factly. "You never told me to clean it."
"Go clean it. Now. And of course I told you, Clarissa. Why wouldn't I tell you? Planning this get-together is incredibly stressful, so I need everything to go well tomorrow. It's our first Father's Day as a married couple."
"Luke isn't even a dad anyway, so why are we doing this?"
"He's your father. Don't get me started on this."
"He's not my father!" I throw my hands in the air and let them fall to my sides. "I love Luke, but he's not my father, and you keep stressing yourself out by offering to have people over, so don't pin this on me, okay? And you never asked me to clean my room."
"Luke is a better father than your biological one, and he deserves to have his family all together. He does enough for us as it is, so how dare you—"
"How dare I what?!"
"How dare you want to mess that up?"
"I don't! You never told me to clean my room, Jocelyn!"
"Don't call me Jocelyn," she warns me. "I'm your mother, not some stranger."
"Well, you might as well be."
"Oh, please." She scoffs. "You don't know what you're saying half the time. Like a stranger would put up with you. Like a stranger would take care of you when you're sick and put up with your stupidity and half-assed attempts at rebellion. Like a stranger would give you nice clothes and a good phone and a place to sleep in."
"At least they wouldn't throw anything back in my face," I tell her. "Like you do every time."
"You are so ungrateful!" She shakes her head. "I don't know how you're ever gonna learn. When I was growing up—"
"I don't give a shit!" I yell. I don't mean to, but it slips out of me, because oh my God, I can't handle her. I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't. If she keeps using this crappy excuse forever, I might just kill myself. She makes a move to slap me for saying shit and for yelling, but I move. "I don't care. I really don't. I don't care that you suffered or that your life sucked, because I still hate that you make me feel guilty for the stupidest shit."
"Clarissa! If you don't stop cursing, I swear—"
"What? What could you possibly do that you haven't already done?"
"Well, it's shut you up every other time, hasn't it?"
"Maybe it won't this time. I'm sick and tired of you trying to shut me up."
"Watch your mouth," she warns.
"Not a chance," I reply, knowing I'm gonna hate myself for this in a few seconds.
Her hand comes in contact with my cheek at about the same time I start cursing at myself. It's a hard slap, definitely, but I grab her wrist and push her back.
"It's not gonna work," I tell her. How did we even get here? Over a room? "You keep stressing me out and thinking that hitting me is gonna just make me stop being angry about it. Well, it's not."
"You just love picking fights, don't you?" She shakes her head at me. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."
"Trust me, I feel the same way."
"Really? What have I ever done to you? You know, other than put up with your constant fighting, laziness, and apathy towards me?"
"Well, considering you're responsible for two of those things, I'd say you…well, you caused them." I feel my heart pounding, and my mind is telling me that this isn't a good idea, but I keep going. "And, by the way, it's not apathy. It's hatred."
Of course, this earns me another slap in the face. I take it, though, and then I glare at her, and I've never ever hated someone as much as I hate her. She keeps going at it, though—slapping me and slapping me and slapping me. I try to push her away and hit her back, and then she keeps going, and then I decide to leave. Fuck it. I push her away, hard, and run to my room, grab a jacket and my phone, and walk out the front door, not caring that I'm wearing sweatpants and my hair is a mess.
I run out into the eerily empty streets, my feet pounding against the pavement. I don't know where I'm running—and I don't really care, either. All I know is that I can't stop. I don't care that it starts raining after four blocks of running. Or that I'm soaked and freezing. I keep running anyway. I run until my feet are screaming, begging me to slow down, and only then do I realize I'm in Sebastian's neighborhood.
I hesitate. He's my friend, sure, but I'm used to dealing with my Jocelyn crap alone. All by myself. On the other hand, it's pouring, and, as much as I'd love to, I can't keep running. But I can't go back home, either.
So, of course, I run two blocks to my right and enter the supermarket that sits on the corner, as it always has, and I call Sebastian.
"Clary! Hey!"
"Hey," I say. "Are you home?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Open the door for me?" It was meant to be a command, but it ends up coming out like a question.
There's a small pause, and then: "Sure."
I shove my phone into my hoodie's pocket and then throw the hood over my head to cover my hair as I run out of the supermarket and halfway up the block until I'm in front of Sebastian's apartment building. He's already holding the door open for me, so I run inside, my shoes squeaking as they come in contact with the dry tile floors.
"Jesus," he says. "We need to get you a blanket."
"It's not that bad," I tell him, but my teeth clatter, betraying me.
"You," he says, opening the door to his penthouse, "are not fine." He leads me inside the luxurious apartment. "I'm gonna go get a towel." It's colder in here, and it hits me like a ton of bricks. I freeze in place. The cold paralyzes me, reminds me of how reckless and absolutely stupid I've been today.
"Hey, I got the—"
Oh, no.
I look up and meet Jace's gaze. He's frowning, as he usually does when I'm around. "What're you—"
Sebastian appears with a towel at this very moment, making Jace lose his train of thought. Seb looks at the two of us, hands me the towel, and then says, "Well, this wasn't planned or anything."
"Thanks," I tell him. For the towel, I want to say. Not for the awkward moment. Instead, I ask, "Is there a sweatshirt I could borrow? A big one?"
He nods and disappears again. Jace's frown has morphed into a glare. Awesome. Super. Totally what I need right now. Yup. So thrilled about this, clearly.
"Seriously, Jace," I snap. "Not now."
"I'm sorry," he says, clearly not sorry at all. "Am I interrupting your evening?"
Oh God. Breathe, Clary, breathe. You've got this. You've got—
"Here." Sebastian hands me the sweatshirt. "We need to talk when you come out of the bathroom, okay?"
I nod. I get ready fast, because the warmth of the sweatshirt is most definitely welcome. I take a breath before walking back out. I find the two boys in the living room, sitting on the couch.
I hesitate—I seem to be doing that a lot lately—before taking a seat as far away from them as physically possible. Now that I'm sitting still, I notice that my hands won't stop shaking, and I need to keep distracting myself (mentally, of course) to keep my bottom lip from quivering. God, this is the worst. I shouldn't have come here. I should've just—
"Clary." Sebastian looks concerned. I suppose he should be. I mean, my hair is a mess, and I'm sure all of me is a mess. I sure as hell feel like one, anyway.
"What's up?" I ask.
"What happened?" he asks gently.
I take a deep breath. Don't cry. Do not cry. Seriously, I need to get it together. I shake my head at him.
"I can't," I say. "I really, really can't."
He walks over to sit beside me and looks at me, searching for some type of answer on my face. When he doesn't find one, he says, "Come on, Clary. I'm worried. Did you—" He hesitates. "Did you run all the way from your house to here?"
I shrug. "So what if I did?"
He sits up. "Jesus! Jace," he says, facing his friend, "bring me a blanket from the closet. I'm getting you some water, Clary." He's facing me now. "Stay here, okay?"
I nod. I'm shaking too hard to even think of standing up. I sit there, staring at nothing. And trying not to cry. And I feel myself failing miserably.
"Here you go." Sebastian hands me the water. A few seconds later, I feel him wrapping a blanket around me. "I need you to talk to me," he tries again.
And that's it. That's all it takes for me to burst into tears.
"It's okay," he says, wrapping an arm around me. I want to tell him that no, it's not okay, it's really very far from okay right now—I'm very far from okay right now. But I don't say anything. I notice Jace hasn't said a word either, and that the harder I try to pull myself together, the harder I keep falling apart.
Jesus H. Christ, I am a mess.
Sebastian lets me cry on his shoulder for a little while, and I hear Jace moving around in the kitchen. By the time I finally stop crying, he's handing me a mug. It's the nicest thing he's done for me in years, and I take it. Hot chocolate. It's glorious.
"Are you ready to talk?" Seb asks me.
I want to tell him the truth, which is that I'll never be ready to talk about this. Ever. But, instead, what comes out of my mouth is: "I can try."
"Good," he says. "What happened?"
I try to slow down my heartbeat. I take a breath, but it comes out all shaky and not at all like I'm okay. You can do this, I tell myself. I at least owe him an explanation.
"It was Jocelyn." I hate saying her name, but it is a lot better than giving her a title she doesn't deserve. "She—" I shake my head. Steady my heart. Bite my bottom lip. But, in the end, all I can manage is: "I can't do this."
"Would it be better for you to write it down?" he asks.
I nod. Sebastian's aunt is a psychologist, so he's picked up a few things here and there. He's learned that letting things fester and eat you up inside is the most unhealthy thing you can do. It's why we had such a good relationship, I think—well, for the most part.
He gives me a pen and paper, and I lock myself in the bathroom and write it all out. Tears stain parts of the paper and make the ink look all splotchy and a little hard to read, but I keep writing anyway.
I make myself look presentable before exiting the bathroom. I hand him the paper. I feel Jace's stare and turn to face him. "You can—I mean, you're already here, and you already know some of this, so you might as well." I turn to Seb. "I'm gonna wait in your room."
He nods. "Okay."
A crazy (and illogical, and unreasonable, and definitely pathetic) part of me is hoping that this'll help Jace understand why I did what I did to him. I mean, he knows part of it, sure, but maybe if he sees that it's still going on just as badly, he'll understand. It's not healthy or mature or anything to want this, I know, but still. I turn back as I'm about to close the door to Seb's bedroom and see the two of them reading together. I shut the door and lie down on the bed, promptly remembering that my hair is damp. Oops. I should put my clothes in the dryer. I should—
The door bursts open, and Sebastian comes in, followed by Jace, who crumples up the piece of paper and throws it in the trash can while Seb sits down beside me. I'm sitting up now, too.
"You can stay for as long as you need to," he tells me.
"Thank you," I tell him. "Really."
"How long has it been this bad?" he asks me.
I shrug. "The last time it was this bad was a year ago. But, I mean, it was worse when I was little."
"I've never—" He takes a breath to steady himself. "I've never actually seriously wanted to hurt a woman, but your mom has proved that there's a first time for everything."
I give him a tired smile. "You're helping out enough."
Jace clears his throat. "Can I talk to Clary alone for a sec?"
I feel as confused as Sebastian feels. He looks at me for approval, and I nod, which leads him to exit the room, leaving me and Jace inside. Alone.
Jace takes a breath. "This doesn't—" He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. "It doesn't change things between us—what I'm about to say, that is." After I nod, he continues. "But if I could just—" His fists clench at his sides. "I wish I could make it all go away for you, okay?"
I nod. My heart is beating so fast that I fear I might have a heart attack. Oh my God.
There are a million things I wish I could tell him, but they're all lies. I realize that now. All of the things I've thought up in my fake scenarios, the ones I make up in my mind when I need something to play in the back of my mind before sleeping—they're all lies. Every single one of them. Because, really, the only thing I can say is: "Me too. But you can't. No one can."
He nods. "For what it's worth, I think you deserve better."
"Thanks." I smile. "Look, Jace—"
He shakes his head. "This doesn't change anything, remember?"
And then, because I'm fed up, and I'm emotional, and I can't take it anymore, I ask, "But why?" And tears start to fill my eyes, and my voice cracks, but I don't tear my gaze from his.
"Because of a lot of things."
"Like?"
"Like I can't! I'm selfish, okay, so I can't, and you deserve someone better," he tells me. "Someone who can. Someone who'll just say fuck it and be with you. And I'm not that guy. I can't be."
"Why not?"
"Because you can do the same thing again." He's scared, I realize. Actually very scared. "And I'm not gonna take that risk."
"So you're just gonna give up because you're scared?" I scoot closer to him until I'm sitting on the corner of the bed, mere inches from where he's standing. "Jace, I was thirteen. I didn't—" I shake my head. "Never mind. You don't wanna have anything to do with me? Fine." I point to the door. "Get out." I'm done trying to change your mind.
"Gladly," he says, slamming the door shut.
My heart is pounding. It hurts. Everything hurts. But I wait. I wait until Seb comes in and tells me that Jace is gone. And then I cry again.
"What'd he say to you?" Sebastian asks.
"That he wished he could make it better for me. That it didn't change anything between us."
"Why?"
"He said he was too selfish to make this work. Too scared, more like." I scoff. "And he said that I deserve better."
"Maybe you do," he tells me.
"What?"
"I'm not saying me," Sebastian says. "But you deserve someone who doesn't do this to you."
I sigh. I guess he has a point. I don't think so, though. I mean, I think Jace is mostly hurting me because he's scared, so this is kind of like his defense mechanism. I just wish he'd stop seeing me as a threat.
"It's complicated." I bite my lip. "I know that it sounds incredibly ridiculous, but I like that he doesn't pity me, you know? Like, he isn't just gonna drop everything and forgive me just because I'm having a hard time. He's not gonna change his mind. I mean, it's also part of the reason I'm so damn frustrated with him, but it's just so real. He isn't full of shit or anything. He's telling it like it is. It's…" I trail off. "Equally frustrating and appealing."
"It's just like you," he tells me. "Both with the frustrating and appealing part, and the actual issue. You two don't let things go."
"I like people who don't let things go," I tell him. "But he also frustrates me because of the very same reason, so I don't know what that makes me, and I don't know what to do."
"Why?"
"Because he's not the guy I remember."
"What do you remember him like?"
"Like the kind of guy who'd miss an entire event with his friends just to be with me. Like the kind of guy who'd get three hours of sleep just because he stayed up talking to me. Like the kind of guy who gave a shit."
He nods. "Well, I mean…" He looks like he's struggling to come up with something. "It's been, what, three years? People change, Clary. I mean, you aren't the same girl you were then."
I know.
But, the way I see it, I changed for the better. I'm stronger—at least I'd like to think I am, anyway. And, yeah, okay, I can be colder too, but it's a small price to pay for my newfound determination, I think.
I can't be sure, though.
One thing I'm sure of is that I'm a better person. Maybe not to other people, but to myself, definitely. And that's what matters most, right? I mean, it sucks to be alone right now, sure, and yeah, I wish I had somebody like Isabelle has Simon, especially in times like this, but I think I'd rather be the Jaceless me I am right now than the past me, the one that had Jace but couldn't fend for herself.
I rest my head against Seb's shoulder. "Can we drink or something?"
"Sure."
He makes us drinks—well, me, anyway; he just gets himself a beer. I browse through Netflix until we decide to watch High School Musical until we pass out.
Let me know what you think! xo
