For the next few days, Clary sat in her room, not eating, just thinking. Thinking, and thinking, and thinking some more. I love you. Those words would normally stop any girls world, make them the happiest girl alive in that moment, but all Clary felt was confused.

She couldn't wrap her head around why Jace was being the way he was, acting the way he was, and then something that could've stopped Clary's heart all together. And all the old feelings coming back weren't helping much, either. Isabelle had tried coaxing her out of the room, or into having an actual conversation-she had succeeded once, in getting Clary immersed in a conversation, but it quickly died off, and Isabelle had awkwardly left the room.

This was not the summer she imagined.

Because the summer she imagined was full of swimming, having fires, hanging out with Isabelle, Magnus and Alec-maybe even Jace every once in a while. But, no, that wasn't meant to be, apparently. Her summer was instead filled with swimming, occasional fires, confusion, anger, more confusion, sadness, Jonathan coming back from the dead, and who knows what else was going to happen? Clary didn't want to find out, if she was honest with herself.

There was knocking on the door, and Clary lifted her head from where it rested between her knees, and then dropped it again. She wasn't in the mood for human interaction. Everything was still sinking in, and she knew if she opened that door again, something devastating was going to come hurtling towards her, and knock her right back onto the hardwood, when she had only just begun to stand on her own two feet again. The knocking sounded again, bouncing off of the walls. "Go away," she croaked, her voice hoarse from not being used. "Biscuit, let me in," Magnus pleaded. "Please."

Clary shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Biscuit," Magnus said again. "You can't stay in there forever, and you have to eat something-I don't care if it's the dirt off of the floor, but you have to eat," Clary wanted to laugh, but she just couldn't make the sound come out. She felt dead. She felt like the life had been sucked out of her. It wasn't something she wanted to feel anymore, she just...didn't want to feel anymore.

"Magnus," Clary said softly. "I can't."

Jace's POV

Clary had been in her room for days. She wasn't eating, and she won't talk to anybody. He wanted to make it all better, take all her pain away...but he couldn't. She didn't trust him anymore, and he wasn't sure how to fix it.

"She's going to rot away in there," Isabelle said worriedly, twirling her hair, a habit she seemed to have picked up when she was worried or anxious. "Iz, she has to come out eventually, give her time," Alec said, reaching up to get a cup out of the cupboard. He turned on the faucet, letting the water run. "Where's Magnus?" Isabelle asked, it seemed talking was keeping her busy-keeping her mind off of Clary-so they just let her.

"He wanted to try talking to her," Jace said, running a hand through his already-tousled golden locks. He knew he had dark circles under his eyes, and messy hair. He hadn't been sleeping, that much was evident. And all of his thoughts were plagued by her, by Clary. "She won't talk to me, what makes him think she'll talk to him?" Isabelle demanded, her cheeks flushing a light pink colour. She was getting frustrated with everything that had happened thus far, everyone was. This trip wasn't supposed to be like it was, it was supposed to be fun, they were supposed to make memories...he was supposed to fix things with her. But her remembering had screwed everything up, and Jonathan coming back from the dead made things ten times worse than they had already been.

Jace slammed his fist own on the counter, angry at his own thoughts; it wasn't Clary's fault she remembered, but it was their fault for keeping it from her. It wasn't Jonathan's fault that he wanted to be in his sister's life again, but he just picked a really inconvenient time to miraculously come back from the dead. Magnus trudged down the stairs, head hanging low, eyes heavy-lidded. He looked defeated. "Let me guess," Isabelle sighed, propping her head up on her hand.

Magnus shook his head. "She said three words other than 'go away'," he slumped into a barstool, and where glitter would usually ran down in a fine spray, there was nothing, and then Jace realized; Magnus wore no glitter. He didn't have on any extravagant colours. His hair was spiked up, and he looked normal without all of his usual glitz and glamour. "What were they?" Isabelle asked quietly. It was like she was just a shell, now, and it bothered Jace for whatever reason. But nowhere near as much as Clary hurting bothered him. When he used to say he loved her, it was always in that friendly way, you know, when you said "I love you, you stupid idiot," and then shove them? But then things started to change, and he kissed her, and she had kissed him back. And he just knew, and he kept telling himself over and over again; I am so screwed. His past self had no idea how right he was.

These past years when Clary didn't remember him, it hurt. Hearing her say she hated him was like being stabbed in the heart a hundred times over. He would never admit it, but he had said the L-word to her the other night, and he wasn't sure why.

You're pathetic, a nasty voice in his head hissed. You can't even say it in your head, what makes you think you could ever say it out loud? To her, no less? Jace wanted to slap himself in the head, to get the voice to stop talking, but he new he'd look more than a little odd, so he refrained from doing so. Suddenly, though, he had an idea. Standing up from his slouched position against the counter, he took a deep breath and began walking towards the staircase. "Jace, where are you going?" Alec asked, setting his glass down on the counter and taking an obviously cautionary step towards him. "I'm going to talk to her," he said firmly, gold hair falling into his eyes.

"Jace-" Alec started. "That's not such a good idea," Magnus finished, his hands on the counter, as he was preparing to stand up and go after him, if he made a run for it, or something. "You all had a shot, I think it's my turn," Jace said, and without another word, he walked up the stairs, only stopping in front of Clary and Isabelle's room.

He folded his left hand into a fist, and knocked on the door loudly, that way she couldn't say she hadn't heard him knock. There was rustling on the other side of the door, but no footsteps towards the door. "Clary, let me in," Jace demanded. Nothing. No reply, just silence. He tried to turn the door knob, to push open the door, but it was locked. Of course it was. "Clary, I'll kick the door in if I have to," he warned. There was no way in hell he was letting her-someone he cared about immensely-stay locked up in their room like a hermit crab, until they turned eighty-years old or starved to death.

"Leave me alone," said a soft voice on the other side of the door. "Not happening," Jace informed her, taking another deep breath, and he prepared to break open the door. He pulled on the door knob, hard, punching the door, too. The door swung open a little bit from the force of the hit, showing Clary's side of the room. But she wasn't laying in her bed, no, she was sitting on the floor by the window that looked out onto the beach. "Congratulations," she said sarcastically, but it didn't sound like her heart was in it. "You've saw what a mess I am. Will you leave now?"

Instead of answering her, Jace walked over to where she sat, plopping down beside her. "You need to leave this room, Clary," he said softly. She looked at him, up and down, as if analyzing him. She had dark circles under her eyes, as if she, too, hadn't been sleeping. Her hair was a mess of gorgeous red curls, her usually bright green eyes were puffy, and red-rimmed. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she'd been crying. "You were crying," Jace muttered, looking away from her, to his feet. He couldn't stand seeing her sad. "Maybe," Clary replied, her gaze drifting back out the window. She felt a million miles away, even though she was sitting right next to him. "Why won't you come out of your room?"

Clary shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this," she said sharply. "Why not?" Jace pushed, he probably seemed like he was enjoying seeing her like this, but he knew if he pushed her a little bit more, that spark she had about her would come back, chasing away that lifeless look from her eyes. "You don't get to ask the questions," she snapped at him. "If anything, I should be asking you about the other night." Jace couldn't believe it-she had caught that?

"What are you talking about?" Jace tried to keep his voice even, to keep her from knowing he was lying. Usually it was easy to lie, but with her being the only one who knew him so well, he was almost positive she'd figure it out. "Don't play dumb," she narrowed her eyes at him. "You said you loved me-well, kind of, but still," she looked angry, her cheeks flushing bright red-it was so adorable. Jace mentally slapped himself; focus!

He sighed, covering his eyes with his hand. "You caught that, huh?" She nodded, "uh-huh."

"Well, I feel stupid," Jace muttered to himself.

"You should," Clary snapped at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You do all of those things, and then you just-you-ugh!" Clary sounding exasperated, sunk back against the wall, glowering at him. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling sheepish. "I'm sorry about all of it, Clary," Jace tried. "I really am. I was just-you know, I can't even find the right words for once," he laughed at himself. The atmosphere was awkward, and he didn't know how to continue.

"Huh," Clary said. Nothing more, nothing less, just "huh" what did that even mean? Was she still angry, or upset? Jace couldn't tell for life of him, but her expression, usually so open, was cold and closed off. "The Jace Herondale, rendered speechless-never thought I'd see the day," Clary muttered.

"Only you," Jace replied. Almost instantly, Jace wanted to reach out, take the words back, and shove them back down his throat. She looked up at him, cocking her head to the side, she looked almost curious. "What?" She asked, her gaze flickering back out the window, as if she was too nervous to look at him. "What did you say?"

"You're the only one who's ever done that to me," Jace clarified; no use hiding what he said. Clary seemed amused by the idea, as she twirled a strand of fiery hair around her finger, looking out the window. "You know, you're a real ass," she said flatly. Jace nodded, he knew that he probably deserved a lot worse than just "you're a real ass," but he stayed silent. "Seriously," she turned her gaze back to him. "You cheated on your girlfriend, for what? A kiss with your best friend?" She scoffed, shaking her head.

Jace was once again, rendered speechless. How was he supposed to explain to Clary that he had fallen in love with her? It was just then that he noticed their proximity, just how close they were sitting together. "I did," he said, his breath lifting up a piece of her bright hair. "And I didn't regret it for even a second," he leaned closer to her. He noticed Clary's copper lashes fluttering open and closed, the fine dusting of freckles across her skin. She was beautiful, Jace knew, he'd known that for a long time, but he also knew that Clary didn't believe that for even a second. He wished he could convince her other wise. "I hate you," Clary said against his lips.

And then they were kissing. His mouth moving against hers, breathing in her scent of fresh flowers, and laundry soap. He remembered the first time he'd kissed her, she'd smelled like paint-probably because she'd been painting-he remembered the way she'd laced her fingers through his hair, the way she'd blushed vividly afterwards. "I know," Jace said in between kisses.

Clary's POV

He had smelled like pine, and sunshine-if sunshine had a smell, that is. His mouth had been warm and soft against hers. Now all that was left of that kiss was the sweet tingle on her lips, as hot water scorched her fair skin. She usually had all her best ideas while in the shower, partly because it was so quiet, and because there was nothing to do but think. And now all she could think about was Jace, and how flushed he'd looked when he pulled away from her. How he'd given her his customary, lopsided grin that showed off his chipped incisor. She smiled despite herself.

Turning off the water, Clary stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. Her hair was dripping down her back, which was a little annoying, but she ignored it, as she brushed her teeth, brushed her hair, and then slipped on a pair of shorts, and an old band tee she'd stolen from Simon-It was Panic! At The Disco, could you really blame her? When Clary threw her towel into the hamper by the door, and then pulled open said door, Isabelle was waiting for her on the bed. She looked up at Clary and smiled softly. She looked very un-Isabelle, if that made sense; her inky hair disheveled, dark circles decorating her under eyes, wrinkled clothes.

"Clary," she said. "I don't know what to say, other than, drink this coffee before I shove the cup down your throat," Clary's eyebrows were in her hairline, as she took a few cautionary steps backwards. Isabelle was holding out a light green, ceramic mug that was steaming. "Clary, you haven't eaten in God knows how long," Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Take the damn coffee-I know you missed your caffeine." And she couldn't have been more right. Clary all but ran over to Isabelle, stealing away the mug, downing about half of it in under thirty seconds. She reveled in the delicious flavour and the sweet, sweet aroma of the coffee.

Magnus knocked on the door, but came in before either Isabelle or Clary got the chance to say anything. "I brought cookies," he grinned, holding out the plate for both girls to see; each and every cookies was buried under what Clary hoped was edible glitter. "That's-it's-um," she stuttered, pointing to the cookies. Magnus waved away her concern," it's edible, relax." At that, both girls pounced on the plate, devouring the cookies. Clary swore her eyes rolled back in her head, as her stomach growled, reminding her just how hungry she actually was. If there was one thing that Magnus was the absolute best at, it was baking cookies; he could be a master baker, if he wanted. "My God, Magnus," Isabelle practically moaned around a mouthful of cookie. "How the hell do you make such good cookies?" She demanded. Clary laughed, taking the last cookie from the plate. It was covered in a mixture of green, blue, and purple glitter. And it was all falling off the cookie, onto the floor, as Clary ate it.

"Now," Magnus raised an eyebrow at Clary. "None of the rest of us could get you to rejoin the land of the living, so, what did Satan's off-spring say to you?" Clary went still, pieces of un-swallowed cookie still in her mouth, her face turning beet red. Gulping it down, Clary tried to regain her composure, "uh, he-uh," she stuttered, grasping for something to say in the blankness of her mind. Isabelle's jaw dropped, and her eyes lit up-if obsidian eyes could light up, that is. "He kissed you! Didn't he?" Clary's face turned even redder, her eyes dropping to the floor. "He did! He did!" Isabelle cheered, pumping her arms in the air. "My little biscuit kissing her sworn enemy? No way," Magnus shook his head. "It's not the first time, Magnus," Isabelle said. "You've seen it with your own eyes."

Magnus scoffed, turning his head, all the while rolling his eyes. "Fine. But I swear on my glitter supply if that boy hurts a hair on your head, biscuit, he will not live to see a last sunrise," Magnus' tone was so serious that all Clary could do was nod her head, and hope that she didn't still look like a tomato. "Now," Magnus clapped his hands together cheerfully. "Since you have decided to come out of hibernation, we are going to watch Teen Wolf together," he grabbed Clary's wrist, pulling her out the doorway, Isabelle in tow.

Clary shifted on the couch, wondering where Alec and Jace had disappeared to a little while ago. She mentally shrugged, and turned her attention back to the television screen. They were re-watching season three of Teen Wolf, which Clary loved, but she didn't know if she could handle the final; having to relive Allison's death would be too much, she feared.

"Oh!" Magnus squealed excitedly. "Look at that boy," he ogled Stiles on screen. "He's mine," Isabelle shot back. "Ladies, ladies," Clary put a hand on each of their arms, her gaze going back and forth between the two. "He's mine," she said, dropping her hands into her lap, and then turning back to the television. "I am not a lady!" Magnus protested, but Clary simply waved him away, her attention solely focused on what was going on in the world of Beacon Hills.

Jace's POV

Jace and Alec had gone out for a bit, just for a walk around the small town. And now, as Alec walked ahead of him into the dark house, he stopped by the living room, spotting a dull light coming from the room. He was betting that Clary had fallen asleep watching television.

Sure enough, Clary lay there asleep against Magnus' arm, while Isabelle leaned on Clary. They were all sound asleep, and the television showed the main menu screen of what they had been watching-Teen Wolf? Sounded corny. Jace couldn't keep his eyes off of Clary, and how at peace she looked while she slept, her soft breathing covered by Magnus' loud snoring. He fought the urge to plug Magnus' nose, and watch him wake up in a panic. But, not wanting to disturb Clary's sleep, he left Magnus alone. He walked over to the front of the couch, bent over, and placed a gentle kiss on her temple, brushing some of her bright red hair out of her face.

Hey guys! So, I felt really weird writing for so long in Jace's perspective, so I'm really sorry if this chapter is sucky.

I don't know.

Leave me a review, and give me suggestions for what you'd like to see in the next chapter.

:D