***I burned all the pictures in the attic***
***and threw away the magazines***

If you were to ask Clary Fray who her hero was, she'd say without missing a beat; Jace Herondale.

Initially, you would just nod, a little surprised but not really. You would never expect Clary Fray to like pop, with her protest signs and combat boots, and paint-splattered jeans and coal smudged face to like popstar Jace Herondale, no less but she was a girl and no one was completely consistent.

Except, you couldn't know that the pop star used to babysit Clary Fray. That Clary Fray used to be there in the room where he wrote his first songs and strummed his secondhand guitar. That the first audience the famous star ever had was her, in her wide eyes awe and pajamas. That Clary Fray used to be his only fan, his biggest fan. That like every fan ever, she loved Jace Herondale.

...

Clary had been saving for exactly three years. Three years. Three full years of every single buck, penny, a scrap of cash she earned, received, or ever found. Three years to buy backstage passes and tickets to Jace's biggest concert ever. Even then she had to beg Simon to give her a loan. (Though he said snarkily that if Jace truly believed her his number one fan he would have sent her the backstage passes for free.)

Like a true friend he did.

So there Alicante she stood, her shiny access badge hanging from her neck. Red hair tied back in a neat braid. Her concert shirt- a ridiculously overpriced shirt with Jace's face and Jace's current album songs on the back- and legging on. She wanted to wear something nicer but she also didn't want to seem like she was trying too hard.

Simon had advised her to go sans shirt but she wanted to show Jace that she was still his number one fan. No matter what Kaelie (President of the Jace Herondale Fanclub) claims.

Sadly, she couldn't find Jace as immediately as she would have liked. So, puffing her chest to show everyone the backstage pass, she wandered a bit. Before some frazzled stern lady sat her down and instructed er to not move and the band would be there to greet her soon enough. She sat there for a full five minutes, sipping her water from the overpriced Jace Herondale thermos, before deciding she had to pee.

The badge was probably the only thing keeping the people from kicking her out. She, in all her fangirl glory with her unmakeuped face and plain face. She obviously wasn't one of the celebrities milling around. After being ignored a few times she finally found someone willing to give her directions to the bathroom, her name was Isabelle Lightwood and she was a singer.

She was probably a few years younger than Jace (22 going 23) but still three years older than Clary's 16-year-old self. Maybe 18 or 19. Truly Clary didn't pay attention to many celebrities outside of Jace.

"Come with me," Isabelle-call-me-'Izzy' beckoned. "The faculty bathroom is always occupied, you can use the one for us popstars!" Her gaze dipped to Clary's memorabilia, a small red smirk on her face. "After all the money you paid god knows you deserve that much."

Clary followed happily. Maybe Jace will be near there? He kept in touch the first few years but eventually... his calls stopped coming and her messages were unread. Until the phone was disconnected and she never heard from him again.

"Are you singing a duet with Jace tonight?"

Izzy shot her a smile over her shoulder, "Nah, I'm back up. I still have the stupid contract for another year. After that, I'm a be a bit hit. You'll see." She said it like she was trying to prove something like people have doubted her before like she had to be extra forceful for people to believe in her.

Clary liked her. She wasn't sure why, but she really liked the individual fire in Izzy. "I'll be the first buying your merch." She didn't have many girl friends but Izzy kind of reminded her of Magnus. And she liked Magnus a lot.

Izzy's saucy smile went a little mild, a little sweeter. A little more human, if that makes sense. "I like you..."

"Clary Fray," she filled in. "Clary Fray."

"Nice to officially meet ya, Clary."

"Yeah," Clary agreed, "It is. And I like you too."

After a bit of walking they make it to the door, Izzy was walking up front, humming loudly, and she was twisting the knob when Clary noticed a strange detail. There was a fuzzy Christmas sock on the floor in front of the door.

"Is that yours?" she asked, not really caring but it seemed significant enough to comment on.

Izzy's gaze darted to the sock then to the door, her eyes widening in horror. She turned to say something to Clary but Clary was too excited, darting past her and throwing the door open. Eager to see if Jace was there. (And she really really had to use the bathroom.)

She was literally blinded by the excitement that she didn't fully understand what was happening when she stepped in. There were two girls and Jace, and Jace was wearing a robe and his pants were to his ankles. And thank the lords that Clary couldn't see his private part but only because one of the girl's mouth was wrapped around it.

"O-oh," her face felt hot and she knew it was matching her hair. she closed her green eyes tight and turned around. She knew what was happening. An orgy. Her sweet Jace...was in an orgy.

"What the hell?!" his voice was cold and hard and angry. "Did you two not see the fucking sock?!" She shrunk back, pulling her hoodie so it covered herself, pulling the hood over her head. Even though if it were anyone else she would have yelled her throat hoarse at them. "Izzy, god. What's your problem?!"

Jace... was never angry at her. Never. The only time he ever got mad was when she was being bullied and tried to hide it from him.

("What the hell, Clary?" he fumed, fists balled into fists.

He wore the same look of disgust that the girls do. "I didn't- it's n-not, I-I." she sniffled, then wailed. "I'm sorry!"

His face was still angry, she hugged his stomach.

His fists unfurled. Shoulders lumping.

"P-please don't be mad, Jacey."

He combs his fingers through her curls, "I'm not mad at you, Clary. Never at you."

The next day he tricked all the kids into following him to 'get ice cream' and instead he told their parents. After 'roughing them up'. Clary told him it wasn't fair since he was so much bigger and tougher. He told her firmly, that it wasn't fair that they all ganged up on her. He also told her, 'no one messes with my little sister.' Little sister! To add to the sting her classmates steered clear, all afraid of her 'mafia big brother'. Big brother!

She couldn't complain too much though. That was how she met Simon, who on his first day of school, excitedly whispered to her. "Your brother is part of the mafia too?!")

And if she ever did annoy him, like the time she sketched on his music paper, he never stayed upset for long. He even framed the music sheet, saying that it looked better then anyway.

She couldn't even look at him in the eye. It wasn't just the fact that he was lounging around as two girls pleasured him. It was the fact that he was so rude and cold. It was the way he treated Izzy, his backup. It was how he didn't even recognize Clary.

A silence hung in the air.

Jace broke it again, "Well, unless you two are going to join then get out-."

How... how shameless!

Izzy had a hold on her shoulder, tugging at her, imploring Clary to leave quietly. But...Clary was furious!"

"You," her finger shook- no, all of her shook even as she stabbed it in shi direction. "Who do you think you are?! You don't own the fucking room! It's for all stars-"

"Who the hell are you, little girl?"

Tears burning in her eyes and making her voice wobbly, "I-I was your first fan."

She looked up to meet Jace's cool stare. As soon as she did his whole body jolted.

He recognized her.

But it didn't feel like much of a victory.

It was scary. She expected many things when she bought the tickets, for Jace to be happy and excited. Or maybe confused and awkward but grateful nonetheless.

"Clary..?! What are you doing here?!"

She wiped angrily at her face, "I came to support my big fucking brother." (She doesn't know hey she said 'brother' when she not once saw him like that. Maybe she hoped that it felt odd for him like it did for her.) She kept her eyes on his eyes, ignoring the fact that he was tugging his pants on and shooing the girls away. "Do you know where he is?"

She waited, hoping for an explanation. An apology. Something to make everything okay. But there was... nothing.

Untill he finally said, "Clary, you shouldn't be here."

Tears rolled out of her eyes, unbidden.

She stepped forward, "What happened? Why are you being like this?"

His voice hardens, "Clary, leave."

Clary doesn't. She keeps moving forward, not looking anywhere but his face. Not even noticing that Jace was wearing a robe that was open, revealing his chest.

"I don't wanna."

"Leave or I'll call fucking security-"

"You do that and I'm telling Celine."

Jace startles, his tawny eyes flashing like broken glass. Vulnerable and sharp. "Since when did you start calling her that?"

"Since you stopped calling and I had to keep track of you through her."

He snorts, "pick up an article and you'd find out enough."

"I did that too."

His gaze flitters to her merch, her shirt, her thermos, her pin.

"Just leave, Clary."

Clary placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched from her touch. She withdrew immediately, hurt cutting through her cleanly. "Let me help you."

"I don't need help."

The words were hollow and said without hesitance. Practiced.

"Can I... do anything? To help you?"

"I don't need help," his voice was hard. "And if I did I wouldn't take it from you."

"Did I do something?" Her voice was wobbling again and it made her angry. "To upset you?"

"Clary, it's been...how long? 5 years? Move on. This childish crush you have is troublesome. You were part of my life once but you aren't anymore. Move on."

Move on.

Move on...?

Was he...

Was he fucking serious?!

She pulled her fist back and let it crash into his face, so hard a crunch sounded. It wasn't his face. It was her hand. Not the hand that she used to draw but still her hand.

Even then she was the only one hurt.

Clary cradled it to her chest, crying because of the pain in her hand and heart.

Jace stretched his jaw, staring at her, unmoved. She was about to kick him where the sun don't shine. Anything to snap him out of his stupidity but Izzy was pulling her back then.

Cradling the younger girl to herself as she whispered words of encouragement. Half dragging, half persuading her out for the room. Clary was crying and yelling.

Security came then.

It was Izzy, not Jace, who yelled at security when they tried to take Clary away.

Izzy was just backup though. And Jace, the pop star, was sporting a red patch of skin, that and the bruising fist was enough reason to drag her away. Also, the fact that he didn't object or seem to care that she was crying out his name.

She crashed into the arms of Simon, who grabbed a plane to go to her after she called him, sobbing. She slept that night, silent tears running down her face, sure he didn't care.

He probably didn't. All the signs pointed to 'no'. Expect that Clary made a scene when exiting, yet an influential someone made sure that nothing leaked. That someone went by the name Jace Herondale.

...

***that night I put my youth in a casket***
***and buried it inside of me***