A/N: Hi guys, sorry for the delay. I have excuses: School, sickness, theatre performances, but you probably don't want too many details, so read on!

Izzy POV

Who the fuck does Clary think she is? She doesn't know me, my problems, my life, my family. She thinks she can talk to me 'cause she and Simon are best friends and because she and Jace are all cutesy and gross. Fuck that! I am Isabelle Lightwood and I do not need Clary Fray telling me how to live my life.

Yeah, sure, I might have feelings for Simon, but what does it matter? I don't want a relationship!

Yeah, maybe I didn't handle the situation, maybe running away was wimpy and maybe making out with Jonathan Morgentstern in the middle of the hallway was a low blow, but let's face it, in the long run I will be saving both myself and Simon a whole lot of inconvenience and complicated emotions.

Alec has tried to talk to me about it a couple times this week, but I've pushed him away. I guess he is trying, but I don't want his help either. Why does nobody get that I know what I'm doing!

Do I know what I'm doing?

The thing is that I'm not even really sure any more. All I know is that I can't date Simon, I just can't. If I date Simon then things will happen, and they'll happen fast, and then everything will come crashing down because of course it will and everything will be ruined. I'm not genetically programmed for healthy relationships, and I certainly haven't been raised for them. Alec and Jace may be able to fool themselves, and I guess I'm happy for them, but I know what I am. I'm a heartbreaker. If Simon knows what's good for him he'll stay the fuck away from me.

I storm home, ripping off my high heels so that I can walk faster. The little pebbles in the sidewalk prick my feet, but I hardly feel it, partly because I'm caught up in my own thoughts, and partly because my feet are going numb from the cold. I stick in my earphones and start playing Kiss Off by the Violent Femmes; it's always my go to for when I'm angry at the World.

I get home and go straight up to my room, flopping down on my bed and opening my computer. I scroll through Facebook seeing if anything interesting was happening in other people's lives. Apart from a funny picture of my cousin Gideon pretending to bullfight- he's doing a year abroad in Spain- there's nothing.

I find myself scrolling, almost unconsciously to my friends list, and end up landing Simon's profile picture. Against my better judgment I click on it.

Simon's profile picture is of him and Clary posing with a guy dressed as Iron Man. He looks really happy. His cover picture is of him and his band mates. There are five of them, Jordan (the lead singer and Maya's boyfriend), who actually manages to look really cool, Eric and these two other guys whose names I forget, who are trying to look cool and are failing miserably, and Simon, who seems to know that he looks like a dork and is totally hamming it up. I bite back a giggle.

The first thing on his timeline is a New Yorker cartoon of a hospital with a doctor telling a man, "Mr Schrodinger, I have some good news and some bad news." I laugh at that.

Under that there's a picture of him and his sister at a coffee shop with foam moustaches, grinning.

Then there's a picture of him at some sort of nerdy convention. Typical Simon.

Further down there's a picture of him and Clary at a 3D showing of the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who. He's wearing a fez and she's wearing a really long scarf. It has the caption "You may not be as old as the doctor, but at least now you can drive. Happy birthday Si." I fight down a strange surge of jealousy that builds when I think about how much time Clary and Simon spend together. That's been happening a lot lately.

Just above that there's an audio recording. It's Simon's band playing La la Love You by the Pixies. It's an old sample I guess, because Jordan's not singing. Simon is. I close my eyes and listen to him repeat the words "I love you" over and over again, "All I'm saying, pretty baby…La la love you, don't mean maybe".

I start to cry.

Not voluntarily of course. Despite my best efforts, a wave of gross salty water is leaking out my eyes. And it's not even a quick wave! Instead the water is falling drop by drop, each drop running down my face leaving trails of sadness and ruined make up wherever they go.

I close my laptop angrily and jam my palms into my eyes, trying desperately to stem the flow of tears. "Calm down Isabelle, It's alright Isabelle, You are strong Isabelle." I think these are the sorts of words mothers usually tell their daughters, but in my head they always come in Alec's voice. He's the one who always bandaged me up when I was hurt, or let me into his bed when I had a nightmare, he's the one who comforts me.

I repeat me little Alec-mantra in my head until the tears stop. There. Good. I'm fine. I'm probably just PMS-ing or something because I would never cry like that under normal circumstances. Not about some guy. Of course not.

I need something to do- I decide- a distraction, a drink.

Like magic, I come across an event. A party. Perfect.

I'm actually not sure how I missed it. It's at the house of one of the football players, which means there'll be tons of people, and he's rich, which means he'll have a huge house. I go to the bathroom and splash water on my face. It's Friday night. I will not stay in my room crying about Simon Lewis. I will go to a party, get drunk off my ass, and have a great time damn it!

It takes me about an hour to get ready. I go simple, with a short black dress and a loose, sheer blouse over top, my hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. I walk downstairs to see Jace and Clary canoodling on the couch. Gross. I find Alec in the kitchen, "Are you making supper?" I ask.

"No, I'm ordering take out tonight so I have time to get everything ready for mom and dad, I'm just in here to get away from the pulp romance novel reenactment."

"Oh right, they're coming home tonight."

"Yup."

"Okay well, I'm going to a party, so I'll see them tomorrow."

"What? Isabelle!"

"Hey relax, just tell them I'm sleeping over at a friends house, in fact that's what I'll do. You won't have to pick me up at three in the morning or anything."

He sighs, "Is there anything I will say that will make you stay?"

"Probably not."

"OK, fine, just stay safe."

I smile and kiss him on the cheek, "Thanks big brother, I knew you'd come around."

"I don't approve of this!" He yells after me, as I rush out of the house.

I get a ride to the party with my friend Melanie and her brother Jason, who has a sports car. "Woohooo! Isabelle is back!" She shouts as I climb in the backseat, "I'm actually surprised you came, you've been acting so weird lately."

I force myself to smile, "Oh yeah, don't worry about that, I'm totally over it."

I've been at the party for... Actually I'm not sure. I am sure that I'm drunk. Very drunk. More drunk than I usually am at these things... I usually like to be in control, see? But not tonight. I think I'm missing shoe but I'm not sure.

The world tilts a little as I stumble towards the couch where some people are sitting. They're probably having a conversation, but I'm too dizzy to pay attention to what they're saying. I'm using one hand to balance myself out and the other to hold a plastic cup filled with a frightening cocktail of all the alcohol I could find. "Hey...Can I sit here?" I ask- or slur, wobbling a little. The seat I'm requesting is Rick Marr's lap, he's a soccer player who I've been flirting with for a couple months now, I was going to make a move after Meliorn, but... then Simon... I quickly push all thoughts of him out of my head. Except I'm a little confused so I actually make a physical pushing motion. The momentum sends me flying into Rick's lap. "Oops." I giggle, "Too late."

Rick wraps his arm around my waist, "Don't worry, babe. Sit as long as you want."

I struggle to get myself upright(ish) and turn around so I'm straddling him, "You sure?" I ask, threading my fingers through his hair.

His arm moves down to my ass, "Oh, I'm sure."

I grin and settle in more comfortably.

I'm having fun playing with the buttons on Ricks' shirt when, over his shoulder, I spot him. Simon.

What the hell is he doing here?

I finish my drink as well as Rick's (for good measure). "Wanna dance?" I ask, pulling him up with me.

I drag Rick to the middle of the floor, where some people have started "dancing" (though, really, there's nothing rhythmic about it) and I start working on eliminating all space between us. My hands move under his shirt, then down to play with his belt buckle.

"Mmm, eager are we?" He chuckles leaning down to kiss my neck. I close my eyes and will myself to lean in to him, almost falling over in the process.

That's when I feel it, rising up from my stomach. I pull back from Rick and clasp my hands over my mouth. I feel queasy, dizzy, sick. I stumble off the dance floor, hazily trying to find the door. Rick doesn't follow me.

Somehow I manage to find the bathroom. Even more miraculously there's no one in there making out. I throw up the toilet seat and empty the contents of my stomach into the bowl. Halfway through I feel my hair get pulled back, from my face.

I look up to see Simon, looking down on me, looking concerned.

"Are you okay?" He asks. I reply with another round of up chucking, and once again he holds my hair back. This time he also strokes it, gently, it feels nice. "Okay... So I'm going to take that as a no." He says once I'm done, handing me some tissue to clean up my face.

I don't speak.

He sighs, "look Isabelle, I don't know what it is that I did to you. I don't know why you ran away from me. But whatever it is... Can you put it aside and let give you a ride home?"

"I can't go home." I mumble, speaking for the first time.

"Why not?"

"My parents are there."

Simon places his hand gently on my back and starts slowly rubbing circles, I lean into him, almost against my will. "Alright." He says, "Then where were you planning on going."

"I-I don't know." I admit. I had just had to get away. I guess that backfired.

I look up at Simon, who stares down at me. He's a little fuzzy around the edges, but I can still see his eyes, behind his glasses. He has really pretty eyes.

Suddenly I'm kissing him. Grabbing his shirt, pulling him closer, closer. He pulls away, in shock, and stands up, but I follow him. Pushing him up against the sink and climbing on top of him and wrapping my legs around his waist, and continuing my attack on his mouth. Yes, yes, this is what I need. The reason Simon has been bugging me, is that I never got him out of my system.

Simon groans into my mouth, "Isabelle-" he begins, but I shut him up with another kiss, tugging on his hair with one hand, the other fisted into his shirt, which is warm and soft. "Isabelle stop it!" He yells, pushing me off of him.

I catch my self (somewhat impressively considering my inebriated state) and stare at him. We watch each other, both breathing heavily. Flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Simon is the first to speak, swallowing, "Please don't do that. Not like this, not if you don't mean it."

His stare bores into me. I can't handle it. I try to back away from it and end up crashing into the wall. I slide down it, onto the cold tiled floor. "I'm sorry." I breathe, "I don't know what's wrong with me I just-" Oh great. Look at that. I'm crying again.

Simon comes over me and puts an arm around my shoulders, "Shh, shh, it's okay. Here, listen, you can come sleep at my house."

I let him pull me up, and lean on him as he leads me out of the house and over to his car. He helps me into the backseat, and does up my seatbelt for me. The hum of the cars motor lulls me to sleep.

I wake up in a strange room, in a strange bed, with a strange warmth lying next to me. I sit up and blink groggily. My head feels like it's imploding, crumbling in on itself. Am I concussed? I feel my head for lumps. Nope, I'm just hungover.

The events of last night start coming back to me: Parents coming home, the party, Rick, Simon... Simon! I leap out of bed and stare at the warmth next to me, "Simon?"

The boy in question blinks blearily, before focusing his eyes on me, "You're up."

"Yup."

"There's water and aspirin on the bedside table."

"Oh... Thanks."

I grab the medicine and quickly swallow it. Simon puts on his glasses and sits up, "Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good."

There's a drawn out moment of awkward silence.

"Um, okay so I'm going to go home now." I say.

"I'll give you a lift." He offers.

"No, it's okay, I'll just take the subway."

"You don't have any shoes." He points out.

"Oh. Right. Fuck."

"I'll give you a ride." He says.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

I get home from the longest car ride of my life and immediately get into the shower. I savor the feeling of the hot water flowing over my body. I massage my head tiredly. Gah! I'm so hungover!

I get out of the shower and put on sweats and an old t-shirt. I lock myself into my room and start watching season 4 of Friday Night Lights on Netflix. It's such a great show. I feel like I'm a lot like Tyra. Wait… does that make Simon Landry?

My thoughts are interrupted by Alec coming into my room. "Hey Iz, I'm leaving," he anounces, "can you keep an eye on Max for me?"

"Can't someone else do it?"

"Mom and dad are at work, Jace is out with Clary, and I'm going over to Magnus's."

"Fine I'll do it." I sigh.

"Great."

I pull myself up and follow Alec downstairs where I throw myself onto the couch. "See you guys later!" Alec calls over his shoulder.

Max comes bounding over to me, "Izzy!" He yells.

I wince at the volume, "Hey there Max, it's good to see you."

"Want to go to the park?" He asks, like a little puppy asking for a walk.

"Sure why not." I decide, I can't feel any worse than I already do.

Max grabs my hand excitedly and drags me up. He practically pulls me over to the playground that's a block away from our house. God, it's freezing. How does Max stand it? I sit down on a bench off to the side and just let Max do his thing. He's nine years old, he can take care of himself. Plus I have no energy. I take out my phone and zone out.

I'm scrolling through instagram when I hear a thud. Then people are creaming. I look up and see that there's a group of parents huddled around one end of the jungle gym. I get up and hurry over.

What I see wants to make me throw up for the fourth time in less than 24 hours.

Max is lying there with his eyes closed.

He isn't moving.