Kaelie, Kaelie, Kaelie, he thought desperately. Not Clary. Not Clary.
Kaelie, Kaelie, Kaelie.
Jace gripped her hair tighter, pulling her closer to him, trying to forget everything. It didn't work.
His mind, as always, inevitably, darted to thoughts of Clary.
Clary, Clary, Clary.
No, he thought helplessly, trying to grasp onto images of Kaelie. Of her...red hair. No, she was blonde.
Of her...green eyes. No.
No.
He felt as if he were hanging from the edge of a cliff, his hands holding onto ground that was slowly breaking, and he knew he'd soon be falling into the ocean, crashing and shattering. But maybe if he just held tighter...
"Umm, Jace. I'm getting kinda late now. My parents are gonna murder me," said Kaelie, pulling back from him suddenly.
Slowly, she removed her hands from where she was clutching his shirt.
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow and gave her a small smirk. "What about a goodnight kiss?"
Don't leave me now, he thought desperately. Don't leave me to fall.
"I just gave you one," she said, exasperated. "But fine, here."
She quickly pecked him on the lips, too quickly for him to react properly. "Goodnight," she called, walking away from him.
Letting the ground break.
Letting him fall.
He took a deep breath and turned around, swallowing hard. He took another breath. Another step forward.
He opened his car. He sat down. He turned it on. He drove. Mechanically. Numb. Kaelie wasn't here to distract him from pretty green eyes now.
Jace knew where he was driving to, but he didn't want to acknowledge that fact. He simply wanted to go to the park for himself, right? It wasn't for...her.
It wasn't.
As he pulled into a parking space, he continued denying his feelings, maybe if he denied them long enough he'd be able to believe the lies that he didn't need...her.
His life was better off without her, less complicated, easier. They wouldn't have lasted anyways. But the only problem was that now he knew what is was like with her, he couldn't be without.
And so he sat on the park bench, looking up at all the stars in the sky, all of them looking like tiny holes of light peeking through black material. Closing his eyes, he curled his hands up into small fists.
He let go of the cliff edge.
"Clary, you can come out now."
He kept his eyes trained on the tree in front of him, focusing on all the little ridges it had, all the nooks and crannies, and not on the girl he could see out of the corner of his eyes. Though he longed to look at her.
He moved his eyes away from the tree and to the bench opposite him which a wilting bouquet of flowers had been tied to, a few photos of a deceased person stuck next to it.
He swallowed and this time moved his eyes to Clary's.
She was looking at him with her eyebrows raised, her head tilted.
"Where's Kaelie?" she asked. There was not a hint of malice in her voice, no jealousy or bitterness. Just curiosity.
Jace shrugged. "Like that matters," he muttered. His voice wasn't like hers, it was laced with bitterness.
"Jace..." She took a step closer to him.
He should have just gone home, he should've just gone. Even with her, his feelings still hadn't disappeared like he had hoped, they had only heightened with new ones coming to join.
Longing, so much longing just for him to touch her, just for her to hold him. Was it too much to ask? Apparently it was.
"Jace," she tried again, this time coming to sit on the bench beside him.
"Stop Clary, there's no point," he said.
She didn't say anything. Even she knew there was no point. Even she had given up.
He closed his eyes, swallowing the lump that was beginning to form in his throat. He could feel the burn behind his eyes that could only mean one thing.
Oh God, he was about to cry again.
The tears slipped out from under his closed eyelids, against his will. But once they'd fallen it was hard to stop. They began streaming down his face, leaking into his mouth so that he could taste salt, dropping onto his shirt so that he could feel the cold.
And all he wanted was for Clary to hold him. Hug him tight and not let go, let her arms around him hold him together, because she was the only one that could. But she couldn't now.
She couldn't.
More tears escaped at that thought and this time he couldn't hold in the sobs. Every time he breathed in he sobbed, his breath hitching and he was full on bawling now, the way he only ever had alone. Or that one time with Clary. But she'd been holding him then.
He wished Clary would say something. Anything.
If they couldn't touch at least they could talk.
But that was easier thought than done because by now he had crashed into the ocean and he couldn't stop his sobs no matter how hard he tried.
So they simply waited for the tears to go because eventually they'd run out even though the emotions behind them remained.
"It's my fault," said Clary, when he'd finally stopped and all that was left was his uneven breathing.
"No-o it's no-o-t," replied Jace, his voice jerky.
"Yeah it is, if I'd just looked then I wouldn't have been hit."
He didn't say anything, he wanted to but he couldn't. Every time he tried to his voice would get uneven and he would choke on his words: it wasn't your fault you were hit by a drunk driver.
"I would still be here then," she said, in a small voice.
It's not your fault you died.
Jace turned his head to the side to properly look at her. To properly look at her red hair that was now a ghostly colour or her green eyes that were no longer like the leaves of the tree in front of him but instead transparent. Slowly, he reached out his hand to brush through her hair.
He felt nothing but air.
A few more tears fell.
She leaned forward, her hand moving to brush them away but they just passed through her hand as if she wasn't there. Because she wasn't.
She was dead.
A mere ghost that only Jace could see. He often found himself wondering if he were crazy, was that why he could see her? But he didn't truly care. With her gone he'd be forever shattered and would it really mattered if he was shattered and crazy.
No.
Nothing mattered any more.
Clary leaned towards him again, this time letting her lips brush against his cheek and once again all he felt was a cold wind pass. That was all she was, a simple breeze. Not really there.
As Jace tilted his head to look down he placed his hand in Clary's and he could see her wrapping her fingers around it.
Although it had been Kaelie holding him onto the cliff, he now realised that maybe it was better falling if he could at least spend those few moments before death free.
X~X~X
The bonus unofficial ending (because if you're like me you don't like angst):
When Jace awoke the tears that he had shed in the dream were falling down his cheeks, wetting the pillow. He opened his eyes carefully and saw Clary beside him.
For reassurance, he reached out to touch her shoulder. She groaned in response. "I swear Jace if you're waking me up to tell me that you've broken the toaster again I'm gonna murder you."
Despite still being shaken from his dream, he had to smile at that. Annoying Clary in the morning was one of his favourite pastimes. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, resting her face where her neck met her shoulder.
"Hey," she protested. "Wait, why are you wet?"
He could feel her struggling to turn around and soon she was looking at him, most probably at his red eyes.
"You don't need to cry about breaking the toaster, Jace," she said teasingly but her grip on him tightened slightly. "Why have you been crying and how have I not heard you?"
Jace shrugged, or at least tried to with his arms around Clary and her gripping him tightly. "I woke up like this," he replied.
"What were you dreaming about?" she asked, suspicious.
"I don't remember," lied Jace. "Something about me breaking the toaster and the house burning down and you killing me."
Clary rolled her eyes. "Weirdo," she said, nudging him. "Who dreams about that?"
"Someone who doesn't want that to happen?" suggested Jace.
Clary turned around again saying, "Go to sleep, idiot. I'm not getting up until twelve."
With a grin, Jace closed his eyes, no dreams filling his mind this time.
X~X~X
My first attempt at writing something sad, was it good, bad, horrific? Let me know, if you want to but if you don't give reviews (like me) then I don't know, re-read if you liked it?
I came up with at like twelve at night (today or yesterday now) mainly because I was bored and sad so I was like hey, write a one shot. I had no clue what I was writing or what the plot line was and basically just made it up as I went along.
Anyways thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it (and if you didn't I'm sorry for wasting five minutes of your life).