Simon Lovelace, born Simon Lewis, is Clary Fairchild's best friend. remembered little about his relationship with Isabelle, causing tension between the former. Don't say goodbye to Clary love triangle just yet! now in a loving and healthy relationship with her best friend, meaning he might have missed his window. and Clary and Jace have this trust that they've built in dealing with. Clary and Simon are enjoying their new relationship. Shadowhunters Jace wants Clary to hide in the Institute because he doesn't trust Simon to protect her.
His hair, his eyes, - his eyes - his skin. He oozed confidence from every orifices on his body, and why shouldn't he? Every girl besides myself would have been willing to kiss the ground he walked on if he did something as simple as flash them a plastered smile. He was so fake - so plastic that the light shining down on him almost blinded me, something more than a few people mistook for some sort of perfection, I suppose.
It wasn't hard to brand him as perfect; he looked like the next version of the Ken doll, just waiting to be packaged. He was far from the perfect label that was stamped on his forehead. Most people didn't notice the way his golden eyes were hard and cold, the way he would instantly harden at the mention of family.
But I did, and something about it always bothered me no matter how hard I tried to shut him out. The house felt cold when I entered it. Not just cold-cold from the weather, cold like lacking affection and warmth of feeling. You wouldn't believe that it was my home, would you? Especially not with everything immaculately clean and neat.
No answer came from the evidently empty house. I still don't know why I expected him to be here - he never seemed to be. I looked down wistfully at my ring finger. The gold caught what little light was left to shine through the uncovered windows, the diamond casting a strange pattern across the blank wall.#Shadowhunters - Nuovo trailer della 2B: Clary, Jace e Simon [SUB ITA]
I was suddenly - not to mention weirdly - longing for high school, when I couldn't go anywhere without being surounded with his presence, whether he was there or not. I sighed, placing my keys on the bench. They made a jingling sound, the only noise in the utterly bleak silence. Would there ever not be silence surounding me? I could remember the first time he was gone for so long, I had thought he left me, that he was never coming back.
I had cried out all of my tears that night. He came back a few days later though, promising me never to leave for that long again. Another promise I had craved so desperately to be real, to be - solid. They never would be, and I knew it, I was just grabbing at a thining thread, sure to break away and leave me drowning in everything. The only thing keeping me from leaving is as simple as three words: Shrugging off my jacket, I make my way to our bedroom. It's where all my paints that aren't at the studio stay.
The paint brushes are worn, the paint that once adorned the wooden handle gone or going. The small calluses on my hands could tell anyone how much I love my work. I stand at the bottom of the staircase, staring scrutinizingly at the blank, white wall that looks so He hates it when I get paint on the floor, not to mention the wall, but he isn't here, so what will he say? Using some black paint, I begin to paint the outline of a man's silhouette. The brush glides smoothly cross the drywall, and all I can think about how angry Jace will be with me.
The thought causes a small smirk to creep up on my face. Really, it's the only way he'll say anything to me when he is here.
Shadowhunters 2B Brings Back Clary, Jace and Simon's Love Triangle | TV Guide
And, I may or may not like to get on his nerves. The next thing I know, the New York skyline is being painted behind the man. It probably came from the spectacular view out of our window. You can just see the last of the sun sinking below the horizon, you have to get just the right angle, though, looking through the spaces in between certain buildings to see it.
Fading Chapter 1: Silence, a mortal instruments fanfic | FanFiction
I'm so focused on the brush gliding across the satisyingly smooth drywall that I didn't hear the door open, or his footsteps until I feel his eyes on me. It's a strange feeling - having someone else in the house, considering I've been alone in it so long. I turn around, eyes widening in surprise. He's staring at me, the last of the New York sun catching his golden eyes somehow. He always has that sort of luck, where the universe works in his favour to make him look more attractive than he already does.
It's unfair in every possible way, and I couldn't care less at the moment. My painting forgotten, I run into his arms, dropping my paint-coated brush on the floor somewhere in between. His strong arms wrapping around me. It feels as if its an automatic response, as he squeezes me tightly, afraid that I'll slip away from him.
It's like muscle memory. I tangle my hands in his golden curls, his hands easily find my waist and I'm pulled even closer to him. It's as I think about how he's been gone so long without so much as a word of goodbye that I quickly pull away from him. He's breathing heavy and his pupils are dilated, almost completely engulfed by the black. I can't look at him any longer or I'll feel lonely again, see in his eyes all the time he's left me for work.
I hastily turn away, spining in my socks to face the wall once more. Despite the number of people in the world that would kill just to be this close to him, I couldn't bear it. I find it strange that he has yet to notice my Normally, we'd have already been in a screaming match about it. I myself feel drained from working long hours at the studio, trying to keep my mind occupied. I couldn't tell you how many times I've fallen asleep there in the past two-and-a-half weeks, paint brush in hand - or even on my palette.
He yawns, a sure indication he is tired, yet he says,"I'm not tired. He fixes me with a glare that should have had me lying dead on the floor, skin cold and without the privilleage of a heart beat. Instead, though, I fix him with my own glare, each of us challening the other.
I'm not in the mood for fighting anymore, while I had been not two hours ago. I feel utterly drained, like I could curl up on the hardwood and sleep. I could tell by the look in his eyes he was thinking hard about what I'd said, that he didn't know how to respond. Instead of replying, he simply turns, grabbing his bags from where they lay on the floor, and taking them upstairs. I'm up early the next morning, my phone screen flashing brightly in my eyes; 6: I know I won't be able to go back to sleep, so I instead vouch for getting up from where I must have fallen asleep last night: I can't help but groan at how hard paint is to get out of clothes, knowing that I won't bother with it, anyways.
I know Jace isn't up yet. He doesn't do mornings, not anymore.
Especially not when he comes back from a show. There's no need to wake him, I think; I'm only going to the studio. The large windows give way to the early morning light dawning on New York, where taxi drivers are already proceeding to honk at each other. It's comforting, in a sense, mostly because I've been hearing the same noises all my life, but still.
My attention drifts to the large canvas in the centre of the room. It's not even half way done, not by a long shot, but from what is there, I can't help but stare. I can't believe its my work. I never thought I'd be as good at painting as my mom, but here I am. I can't help but thinking about how if she were still living in New York, she would love the studio, the endless supply of paints, every size of brush imaginable.
Shaking the saddening thoughts from my head, I turn on the radio, cranking the volume; no one is here to hear it at seven in the morning, anyways. I squeeze some fresh paint onto my well-used palette, dipping the fine-tipped brush into the gold colour. It's almost the same colour as Jace's eyes, but not the same. He follows her to save Simon from Dumort. At Magnus's he tries to comfort her when she realizes that her mom has lied to her for 16 yrs. Jace confesses that when they were fighting the greater demon in the building that Clary lives, he thought first, not of his parabatai Alec, but of CLARY first and foremost.
When Valentine is about to swing the sword at Clary, Jace throws himself in front of it. Jace can't ignore the feelings that he has for Clary! He knows that its wrong but can't help it. Its not LUST its love. Clary keeps trying to deny her love and it backfires. Even the thick-headed Simon figures out that Clary will never stop loving Jace.
Jace confesses that he loves Clary and will never stop loving her nighttime in her bedroom in Alicante. Clary wants to commit suicide to join Jace when she sees him die, but then risks everything by asking Raziel to bring him back to life. They talk about what it would be like to get married. Jace tries to stay away from Clary so that he wont hurt her like he does in the dreams.