chapter 1: lost astronaut
hello!
thank you for checking out my fanfic :)
as a preface - i would like to mention that i know and i respect that raphael's character is aromantic and asexual canonically and i think that's incredible - esp as representation.
but this fanfic does have him with a different sexuality and it's not me disrespecting his canonical sexuality - it is merely just because i think he has a really interesting personality and i wanted to write about this. nothing too deep.
anyhow, i hope you enjoy reading this fanfic :)
also - i recommend reading it while listening to moondust (-stripped; ep version by jaymes young)
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disclaimer: i do not own any of the characters or the universe of the shadowhunter chronicles. credit of all that goes to the lovely cassandra clare.
Clary was in Spanish Harlem. Specifically, right in front of Hotel Durmont. Her breath drifted out in little puffs and her face was blushed red from the biting cold. Her cheeks were stained by tears that had dripped down for the last few hours. The high moon indicated that the night was late. Clary wasn't entirely sure why or how she ended up here. All she remembered was running out of the institute, her heart clenched in pain and her feet leading her somewhere, anywhere, just away from Jace.
2 Hours Ago
The moon was peeking at the sky blushed with hues of reds and oranges when Clary arrived at the institute, laughing at a stupid joke Magnus had made, her hands full of shopping bags, and her heart filled with a light contentment. The three had bustled around in shops for hours, buying extravagant clothes and complementary accessories for the incoming Shadow World's Ball. It was being held to recognize the success of the merging of Downworlders and Nephilim, after the Downworlders had gained four seats in the Clave.
Considering the importance of the event, Magnus and Isabelle had bristled with excitement until Clary agreed to accompany them on their fashion escapade. Secretly though, she was teeming with just as much excitement. When they tried to convince Jace and Alec, they had mumbled something about "needing to train", but Clary swore she saw them fist bump as they walked off.
Clary had approached Jace with enthusiasm before she had left, hoping she could convince him to tag along. He had absentmindedly presented her with his soft smile, his gaze flittering past her face. For a second, a look of annoyance brushed across his face, or maybe it was just the sunlight that left dancing shadows on his face. She hesitantly disregarded it, associating it to him having a moody day. Had she been honest with herself, her uneasy heart would've admitted that Jace had been withdrawn for the last few weeks.
Now back at the institute, Clary, Magnus and Isabelle entered to find Alec and Simon sitting on the couch, their eyes trained on the large TV. It was playing Twilight, and Clary simply scoffed at how ridiculous it was. Simon seemed to be either on the verge of crying or bursting into laughter, or perhaps even both, whereas Alec just looked exasperated. Dropping her bags on the floor, Clary ruffled Simon's hair, getting a mere "hey!" of indignation from him. Meanwhile, Magnus and Isabelle joined their partners on the sofa, unworthily presenting their attention to the film. Clary sighed in resolve and was about to pick up her bags and go to her room when Alec spoke up.
"I think Jace is still in the training room, Clary," he mumbled, just audibly enough, without taking his eyes off the screen.
"Thank you!" she replied, softly smiling at his concentration on the movie.
As Clary walked, she could hear the unmistakeable sounds of knives hitting a target as well as the light thuds of gracefully placed footsteps. Upon her entrance into the training room, she was greeted with a golden haze of the setting sun as rays softly illuminated Jace. It looked like he had been training incessantly ever since she had left, his body glistening with sweat, and his hair so artistically mused up that it seemed intentional. He shone, the warm sunlight reflecting off his bare chest. Clary observed him with admiration while walking to a desk where Jace's phone, shirt and towel were placed, and sitting down on the chair. The sound and movement of the chair sliding back caught his eye and he noticed Clary. Somewhat hesitantly placing down the knives, he walked over, his expression unchanging, and grabbed the towel.
"Hey," he muttered, staring down at the floor while cleaning off the sweat from his body.
"Hey there," Clary replied. Her eyes traced his movements, noticing how he stood so firmly, yet his eyes averted her.
"How are you?" he asked, his gaze finally touching her. His eyes betrayed no emotions, a simple vast expanse of gold that she could get lost in.
"I'm great," she replied hastily, enthused by the prospect of showing him her spoils of shopping. She drew out the dress she had bought for the ball. Jace's gaze recklessly grazed past the bundles of shimmering fabric.
"It looks great," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Oh no. Clary felt like she was sinking. Why was Jace so far away?
"Do you want to see me wear it?" She questioned, her fingers clenching tightly around the soft fabric, mirroring how heart felt as she awaited something, anything that indicated that her Jace was okay.
"Yeah… I mean, if you really want to. I don't really care."
Jace offered her a distant smile as Clary felt her fingers, her head, her heart all numb.
"What's wrong with you, Jace?" she blurted out, unable to hold back the raging tide of emotions. Jace sharply looked at her.
"Clary, I…," he started, and as the intensity of Clary's gaze met his, his head tipped down to stare at the floor. His right arm came up to rub the back of his neck, somewhat… abashedly.
"I think we should take a break in this relationship."
"What?" Clary choked out. The numbness in her heart was spreading.
"It's just that, we haven't been really… clicking lately and our relationship doesn't seem as strong…" he said, trailing off, his eyes abruptly flicking to his phone on the desk as a notification popped up.
When are you coming over? Don't tell me I'm going to have to sleep alone tonight.
The text on his phone shone in all its digital glory, mocking Clary. Her mouth was numb now and her hands coiled into tight fists of iron.
"Yeah. I think you're absolutely right about taking a break." Clary spoke fiercely, flames of anger licking up her words greedily. Her gaze did not waver from Jace's phone.
Jace noticed where her attention was present and he stilled, like a statue sculpted with the most beautiful materials but depicting the most horrifying things.
Clary's throat was parched, she couldn't speak, she needed water, but water threatened to spill out of her eyes and Jace was saying nothing, his eyes searching for solace everywhere that wasn't Clary and she couldn't stay here-
"I need to go," her heart spoke by its own accord. But both she and Jace knew that she was talking about more than leaving the room.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice still refusing to betray any whisper of sadness that he might have felt, that might've given Clary some hope she would've clung on to until her last days. His voice remained steady and so her heart followed, unable to let him have the pleasure of stability more than she did.
"This is the end." Clary whispered, afraid to speak any longer, lest her emotions betray her, and she started yelling and crying until the night had passed.
All Jace did was nod.
And that one nod was answer enough.
As tears started streaming down her face, she ran out the doors of the training room, and the institute, into the night that welcomed her with chilly tendrils, just vaguely noticing the others calling after her. _
Back at Hotel Durmont
Clary felt like her legs were bound by chains. Chains that twisted from around her heart, intwined across her body and caged her legs to the small spot of pavement in front of a desolate hotel. The frigid night air caressed her cautiously, and she knew that as the night became darker, the cold would start to bite. She knew she would have to find shelter soon. But she couldn't move.
Instead, she sat down on the footpath in front of Hotel Dumort. Her eyes scanned the building so ruined that it was almost falling apart. But to her, its ruin spoke to her heart of a beauty of being broken, of being forgotten. And as she found some solace in this building filled with deadly creatures, she noticed it.
Oh, those bastards, was Clary's first thought.
There, hidden by a couple of boxes was very clearly a door. She supposed that nobody apart from the clan knew about it (considering nobody ever lasted for long enough outside the hotel to notice the door, without having their throat ripped out first).
A part of Clary wanted to laugh. Here she was, so tired and so broken and so alone, and the universe provided her with a glimpse of shelter in the worst place possible.
Ignoring the irony of her situation, she got up, filled with a reckless desire. She was angry, angry at Jace, angry at herself, and now apparently angry at the vampire clan of New York City for never disclosing the easy entrance to their building. Most of all, she wanted to do something. Something that would fill her empty thoughts and swirl around her in a web of distraction so she could just forget.
So, Clary moved the boxes. And she pushed down on the cobweb covered handle, and as it swung wide open, her heart thumped, as if trying to break against the chains that held it so tight. She took a step into the hotel, drawing out her stele from her jeans, but just as quickly she stepped backwards. The wrecked bottom floor, covered in dust and cobwebs and the slight coppery scent of blood hit her with the realisation that being so reckless was not what she wanted.
Her head was pounding now, an incessant drumming of questions and emotions and thoughts that drained all her energy. She was lost, like an astronaut floating through space without any meaning. She wanted to go back to the institute. She wanted to stay away from Jace. All these facts and opinions cemented but just as quickly unground themselves and she could not make up her mind. And the one question never drifted away too far. Why? Why was she not good enough?
As her head pounded and her heart thumped, the shadows across the road shifted. An abrupt clinking sound echoed through the street, and Clary whipped around, the worries in her mind briefly dissipating to make way for her years of training.
"Well, well, well," a familiar, deep condescending voice drawled, its owner so far in the dark that Clary's eyes rushed to adjust to take him in.
"Esto es inesperado."
When her gaze focused, her body stilled. Leaning against the wall, Raphael Santiago observed Clary curiously, smirking when she visibly grew paler.
"What are you doing here so late at night, hermosa?"
thank you for reading my fanfic :)
i hope you enjoyed reading it
please do leave some feedback (constructive criticism is appreciated!)
i'll post every 2 weeks roughly, maybe more frequently.
till next time xx
