So, I did publish this as a separate one-shot several months ago, but I eventually just decided to put it in the same story, and delete the other one-shot.
Based on All You Had To Do Was Stay also by Taylor Swift.
Clary's steps feel much heavier than usual, her fragile knees wobbling slightly. She still isn't used to her new coat. Jonathan persuaded her to ditch the neon yellow anorak in January, saying it was too big for her and there was no chance of her growing into it. A part of her misses the feeling of thin, light fabric swishing around her shins.
The other part of her knows she's doing her best not to think about who she's about to meet.
She swallows against her dry throat.
The last time she saw Jace, she'd thought something was off with him. He'd been acting strange for a few weeks. She'd confronted him about it only that evening.
"What's wrong, Jace? You're acting strange." She'd said when she cornered him.
"I'm fine, Clary. You're just being paranoid" was his answer. He'd brushed her off, expecting it to be that easy.
"Then why haven't you played your piano in months? Why have you stopped replying to my texts? Why are you acting so distant?"
"It's nothing, Clary. Stop being so clingy," he'd said harshly. He'd turned around before he saw her tears. The next morning, when she woke up, he was gone. There was only a note on the kitchen table to show he'd ever been there, folded in a neat envelope.
Dear Clary, it read.
I'm sorry, but we're not working. You've become too clingy for my taste. It wasn't supposed to go as far as it did, and it was a mistake stringing you along. It's over. Don't bother calling, because I've blocked your phone. I'm flying to another city before noon, so don't bother looking for me either.
No longer yours,
Jace
She'd sucked in a breath that felt like knives slicing her throat and started shaking so badly she dropped the note. She'd leaned against a wall and slid down it, hugging her knees. Whether she had been shaking or sobbing or both she couldn't tell you.
She had stayed in that position whilst the gloomy morning sky brightened to fill the kitchen with light. She hadn't been able to see it with her wet face pressed against her knees, but it was enough light for Jon to distinguish her weeping figure even when the day had almost surrendered to night and the sun was a sliver of a peach on the horizon. He'd gently disentangled her from amongst her many limbs, and found the note Jace had written face down on the floor. He'd read it, supporting her limp body with one arm, then starting shaking from anger. Nevertheless, he had held onto her whilst she cried, and he had been the one to call the others and tell them what happened.
The next few weeks were spent with her shutting out daylight like the second coming of Romeo, and Isabelle, Jon, even Alec coming to try and drag her back into the sunlight. Finally, after hours of Isabelle saying "he's not worth your sadness, Clare" she consented to going out on the balcony of the Lightwood's family home and painting. It was quite a depressing piece, in her eyes: an angel, with the left side of the canvas lavishly coloured, before it faded into a black and white right.
After much nagging from her friends and family, she went to a meeting and sold her painting to a gallery in Seattle. The owners said that they loved the emotion behind her artwork. But all she could focus on was the fact that Alec had let slip that Jace was now living in Seattle.
A part of her wished he would see it, look at it, and realise how much heart break had gone into it. How much he'd hurt her.
The other part of her hoped he never saw it - or her - again.
She, along with everyone else, sent him a present for his birthday, but never heard back. She wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
She noticed when her friends stopped visiting him. She noticed how whenever they spoke about his predicament behind closed doors, all she could catch were the words "figure out what he needs by himself". She noticed Alec and Isabelle's hopeless and forlorn expressions on their birthdays when they received from him neither present nor call.
When her own birthday rolled round, she found herself in their shoes. They all tried to cheer her up, like she had for them, but she couldn't deny the throbbing disappointment in her chest as she saw no present - or even a card - in the post, and no phone call came. That was when everyone had extinguished one last spark of hope for Jace. Because no matter how upset he'd been, he'd never missed Clary's birthday before.
Then she had received the call.
Now she walks along a pavement so familiar to her. Ahead she can see the bench where she agreed to meet Jace. The man himself sits there, seemingly as lost in thought as she is. She imagines she looked like some sort of stalker, stopping to stand stock still on the pavement to stare at a random stranger, but he has changed. Drastically.
His once neat, curly hair hangs around his face in limp strands that she is surprised don't make him sneeze. His cheeks are more hollow, his golden tan having drained away to an almost sickly yellow. His clothes look fairly shabby, and the hands he rest on his knees are trembling ever so slightly.
He turns his head and saw her, the expression in his face now wistful with a hint of nerves. She walks over, trying to steady her heartbeat. "Jace." She says. Can he tell how hoarse her voice is?
"Clary." He replies, and he sounds perfectly calm. Maybe that's because he doesn't care. "I'm so, so sorry."
She hadn't been expecting that. What happened to the proud boy she fell in love with?
She feels so much at once that she feels nothing at all, and she imagines that shows on her face.
"I was stupid," he admits, astounding her further. "I didn't think I was ready for a serious relationship and I didn't want to hurt you by leaving if we got into an awkward situation, like say you accidentally became pregnant. I didn't think I could stay with you without hurting you." He looks as closed to desperate as she's ever seen him now. "Will you forgive me?"
Her heart hammers in her throat. She wants to, so much, but- "Why now?" She asks, her voice coming out small. "It's been nine months: why now?"
He shakes his head, eyes downcast. "I don't know. I don't know, but this is how long it took me to realise." He looks down at her, with his lower lip jutted out and his eyes wide. She doesn't think he knows just how adorable that is. "Can you give me a second chance?"
She stays quiet, mulling it over in her mind. Can she trust him again? She glances up to see Jace wearing a pained expression. "I love you," he admits suddenly.
Does he know how he had her from those words? She doesn't think so. He stills looks nervous, like a guilty criminal in court waiting to be condemned or reprieved. He holds his arms out and she faintly registers him saying "please". She feels tears in her eyes as she gazes at the arms she once called home.
She moves her head down and suddenly she can't stop herself from nodding, even if she wanted to. She's folded into his arms like she belongs there, and finds herself gripping Jace like he's her lifeline.
She reaches up to write three words on her forehead, three of the truest words she knew. And as she felt his secret smile, she knew he had heard her silent declaration.
