To make her happy, I would invent God if I had to.
Marguerite Duras
It didn't take her long to realize that she was being foolish all along. This wasn't a princess movie or a simple fairy tale. It was reality and she had to accept it. Jace wasn't a king showering her with love and she wasn't a young woman waiting for a kiss to be awoken.
About a week after the party, Clary stopped by his place determined. She wouldn't take no for an answer. She needed the truth. She needed to know everything about him. How irrational could she be, to suddenly trust a boy with a hidden past and an illegal history?
x
She set her backpack down when she entered the room. Instead of Jace, she found Raphael. He was sitting on the ground, sorting through a pile of papers. He glanced upwards momentarily and raised a hand in greeting. "He's not here."
Clary pursed her lips. "I figured that." She collapsed beside him and he gave her a funny expression, something between confusion and curiosity.
"Need something?" He took a paper and scanned his eyes over it before placing it on a different stack.
She released a breath. "I want to know more about you guys." Raphael stopped what he was doing. "I want to know who Jace is. What I'm getting myself into."
Raphael was skeptical. He clicked his tongue like he was annoyed. "Are you sure you're not with the cops?"
She laughed humorlessly. "No, but I have a point."
Raphael turned his body toward her, his previous actions forgotten. He appeared like he had just woken up. His curly hair was tousled in a heap, strands leaping down his ears. His clothes was wrinkled, his feet bare. She wondered where he lived and how he had come to the drug business. "What do you wanna know?"
She wrung her hands together. "How do you know Jace?"
He twisted a silver ring on his middle finger before meeting her gaze. "I've known him since he came to New York." He squinted and seemed to think about it. "Probably about five years ago."
Clary's lips parted. "How old is he?"
Raphael grinned. "Took you long enough to ask that. He's, uh, twenty-four."
Something shriveled up inside her. She had known he was older, but she hadn't thought there'd be a six year difference. Raphael must have noticed a change in her mood for he reassured her lightly, "Don't look so freaked out. You must have known."
She scowled. "Whatever." She'd have to worry about their ages later. "Okay. Why did he come to New York?"
Raphael scratched his head. "He didn't give me specifics, but something happened with his family. He used to live in Cali." He settled against the wall behind him. "From what I can tell, someone died. Someone close to him."
A period of silence followed before Clary decided to change the subject.
"And the drugs? Where did that come from?"
"I was at a bar the first time I met Jace. He was drunk and angry and he was getting the bartenders irritated. I guess I took a liking to him. He didn't care about the rules, y'know." Raphael shrugged. "And at some point, some guy said something to him. I think it triggered him." He chuckled, his mind going back. " He beat the shit out of him. And he got kicked out."
"What did the guy say?" Clary inquired.
Raphael frowned. "He brought up his mom. Asked him why he wasn't with his rich mommy and daddy."
"Huh."
"I followed him outside. He was alone. We talked. Mostly stupid shit." He waved his hand around expressively. "He said he liked me. At the time, I was seventeen. He was nineteen. I kind of looked up to him. We went down to a motel. He was staying there. I thought we were just gonna have some beers, but he took out a stash of hard stuff. Meth. I asked him where he got it from. He told me he knew some friends."
Raphael stretched out his arms and stared at her. "He offered some to me. I was unsure. I told him it costed a lot. I didn't want to take something that was valuable to him. The thing about Jace was...He gave me a weird look. And he said he didn't care. So we smoked and I slept at his place."
Clary tried to stuff the information in her head. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What does this-What does this have to do with starting drugs? Or how he got into it?"
Raphael scoffed. "I was getting there, cherry. Hold your horses." He cleared his throat. "When we eventually ran out, he told me he was sick of buying hard drugs that were too expensive. I made a joke about making our own business. How we could be millionaires. He didn't laugh. He actually thought about it. A few weeks later, he had a bunch of cases." Raphael held out his arms in the size of briefcases. "Filled with meth and cocaine and salvia. I couldn't believe it."
"How did he get that? With what money?"
"Don't know. He wouldn't tell me. Just said it was something from God."
"Something from God..." Clary mumbled, pondering whether Jace was religious or not.
"Yea. And then we sold the cases. At parties and bars and the backs of restaurants. Everyone knew Jace. They called him the young stud."
He sighed and rose up to his feet. She scrambled with him, "I'm not done yet."
Raphael entered the bathroom and she paced outside, biting at her fingernails. What had she gotten herself into?
x
Raphael took a long mouthful of his beer. He had returned from the bathroom and he was back on the carpet beside her, dealing out a deck of cards. He handed her a thin pack. "This might sound stupid," She started, "but why does Jace act the way he does?"
Raphael drew out a card. "It's not stupid." He glanced at her hands. "Any 8s?"
Momentarily distracted, Clary fumbled to observe her cards. She shook her head. "Uh, do you have 7s?"
He grunted and three of his cards ended up in her deck. "He was always like that. At least, that's how I've known him. Sometimes, he has his moments though."
She tucked a curl behind her ear. "His moments?"
He nodded his head towards her. "It's your turn."
She huffed and replied dryly, "Any 2s?"
He didn't have any. "Moments where he's a normal person."
She nodded. "That's what I noticed too. But he changes so quickly that I almost forget."
"3s?"
She placed her cards down, rubbing her temples fervently. "I don't want to play anymore." She muttered.
"Too much to take?" Raphael asked, gathering the cards and shoving them into a box.
Clary searched around for her bag. She tugged it towards her and uncapped her water bottle. When she took a sip, she wiped her mouth and said to him, "It's complicated."
Raphael smirked knowingly. "Of course."
x
She dropped a letter on his pillow before she left. It read:
I'm being sincere with you. I'm asking you to do the same for me. I like you more than I should. I think you know that. I'm okay if you don't care. If you still want to see me, if you still believe in what we have, text me.
She scribbled her phone number at the bottom of the page.
x
She spent the rest of her day doing homework. Her grades were dropping briskly. She was paying less attention during lessons and recording less notes than usual. It was her senior year; she needed to get back on track.
Simon had called her a couple of times, but she didn't answer. He probably wanted to hang out. She didn't have the time and she didn't have the desire to watch another gig or play some video games.
By nightfall, she was exhausted. She clasped her pillow like a prayer and drifted off.
x
Around two in the morning, her phone beeped.
She knew it was him. Without a single doubt.
She reached forward and grasped her cell, swiping to read the message.
If you're awake, come to my place. I'll be waiting outside.
x
She was breathless and wide awake when she caught sight of him. He was standing near his door, a cigarette between his two fingers. Her heart leaped. She forced herself to walk instead of run towards him, like a damsel in distress.
He was wearing a dark turtleneck and black jeans. The clothing made him look more formal. Less like a lousy teenager and more like an adult. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Hey."
He stepped forward, nicotine surrounding him. "Come on." He grabbed her hand and lugged her out of the alley gently. "Let's talk."
She was silent as they sauntered through the streets, cabs screeching and stopping beside them. His hand was rough and warm in hers. She was too nervous to say anything. Too afraid to ask what he wanted to say.
He dropped his cigarette on the cement carelessly and started, "I'll tell you the truth. That's what you want, right?" He peered at her, his mouth drawn thin.
She nodded.
He took a turn and they wounded up on a street with closed cafes and colorful diners. "One step at a time, though. I can't tell you everything now."
She found the opening to speak. "It's okay. I didn't want to demand anything. I just..." She faltered and involuntarily squeezed his hand. "I just want to know you."
Jace halted and pressed himself against the brick wall of a random warehouse. She followed suit. He whirled to her, tugged her close enough to him that she could smell his sweet breath, hot and desperate. His hands found her head and he clasped her hair tenderly. "When I say I have a past, I mean it. It ain't a fucking joke."
She licked her lips. "Okay."
He kissed her abruptly, his mouth hard and unyielding. She tipped upwards, clutching his shoulders. He was too tall. His hands found her backside and he lifted her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. She groaned and the sound made him crush her figure even closer to his. And then his face jerked away with something muffled that she couldn't understand. "What?" She asked, breathing difficultly. Their foreheads were touching. The gold in his orbs had been swallowed by black.
"Do you trust me?" He asked flatly.
She narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
His voice was firmer. "Do you trust me, Clarissa?" It was the first time he had called her by her full name.
Clary could feel his heart beating against her ribcage. "Yes. Yes, of course. I trust you."
He let out a breath and gazed downwards, his head leaning on her chest. His golden locks descended on his cheeks. She swept them away delicately, not exhaling.
He glanced up to her and for once, she discovered regret and fear and bitterness. She waited for an explanation.
Jace said grimly, "I had a son."
x
Yeah, I know. Bombshell. Review people.
Watched the Dark Knight the other day. Pretty beautiful. "Because he's the hero that Gotham deserves, but not the one that it needs right now. So we will hunt him. Because he can take it. Because he is not a hero. He is a silent guardian. A watchful protector. A DARK KNIGHT."
