Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1
Jace
The park is a serene picture of perfection on this surprisingly warm autumn’s day. People are strewn about on blankets, playing card games and having picnics and laughing together. Everyone seems happy and content, with the sun warming their skin.
Jace Lightwood is no different. Sort of.
“Jace, can you pass the soda?”
He turns to his right and blinks. “Sorry?”
“Pass the soda,” the girl, Izzy, repeats; eyebrows raised.
“Right, yeah,” Jace says, and reaches for the bottle. He hands it to his sister.
“Geez, what’s up with you?” she asks as she pours herself another drink. “You’ve been weird all day.”
“I’m not weird,” Jace says automatically. “Stunning, charismatic, amazing, sure. But not weird.”
“Sure, whatever,” Izzy says, rolling her eyes. She lays down on the blanket and puts on her sun glasses.
While Jace would never admit it, she’s not entirely wrong.
He crosses his legs and pours himself a drink, too. As he’s about to take a sip, a flash of red in the corner of his eye almost makes him drop his glass.
A girl with flaming red hair comes into view. She’s wearing a summer dress with daisies under a worn jeans jacket, and she’s smiling bright as the sun.
Jace smiles to himself.
Pretty as always, he thinks.
He’s about to go say hi, when he suddenly stills. The world around him slows down.
The girl comes to a stop in front of a guy around Jace’s age; a guy with thick glasses and brown hair. The girl beams at him and pecks him on the lips.
Jace’s heart beats faster.
Of course.
He broke up with Clary a few months ago, and of course she’s found a new boyfriend. She’s never single for long, always having people lining up to date her.
Why did he break up with her again?
She looks so pretty, with her long hair and her bright smile. God, he made a mistake.
“Hello? Earth to Jace?”
Izzy is waving a hand in front of his face, looking quite impatient.
Jace looks back at her. “What?”
“I’m talking to you,” she says. “What are you even doing?”
She looks around them, and Jace can tell when her eyes land on Clary purely on what she says next.
“Oh.”
Apparently that explains everything.
Izzy looks at him. “Are you still hung up on her?”
Jace shrugs, and looks away.
Clary is still talking to that guy. Who even is he? He looks so bland. Those stupid glasses, and that basic no-personality clothing. What could she possibly see in him?
He grits his teeth.
“Jace,” Izzy says, a warning in her voice. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing,” he says, but they both know it’s not true. He stands up. “I’ve got to head home. See you later?”
“Sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” she asks. She looks concerned.
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just walk home, clear my head. I'll be fine,” Jace says. And for a moment, he believes it.
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“Fuck.”
The word is spoken quietly, like an admission of guilt into the void.
Jace rolls over onto his stomach and buries his head in his pillow.
Fuck.
He can’t stop thinking about Clary, the way she smells and the way she would look at him before they kissed, and--
That guy. That fucking guy. Standing there with her, kissing her and making her laugh. How dared he?
Jace sighs. He knows it’s unfair to blame him, but he can’t help it. He seems to make Clary happy, so Jace should be happy for her. And for him.
But god, he can’t stop thinking about her, and what they had. Why had he ever broken up with her?
He rolls onto his back again, and presses the pads of his fingers against his eyelids.
And then, as suddenly as the idea hits him, he sits up.
Simon
Simon doesn’t usually work out, like, ever. But for the past month or so, he’s actually committed himself to a gym and he goes there once a week.
It might have something to do with his new girlfriend. They've barely known each other a month and they haven’t even gone to second base yet but Simon likes to be prepared, so he joined a gym.
As usual, Simon starts with the treadmill and works his way over to the weights. Halfway through his admittedly quite short routine, he stops to drink some water.
His arms are burning, his face is red-hot and the relief of the water is greatly welcome. He allows himself a few moments to rest before going back to lifting. After having desperately downed half of the water in a few risky gulps, he takes a handful of small sips now and then as he looks around the gym.
People are sweating, grunting and being generally unpleasant all around him. He cringes at a man in his 50’s who gives him a onceover and winks. Simon quickly looks away.
And his eyes fall on a guy around his own age, who’s sitting on a bench on the other side of the room. He seems to be done with his own workout, because he’s panting and has a towel pressed to his forehead. He flips the towel and puts it back against his forehead with a sigh.
Then he looks straight at Simon.
Simon doesn’t look away immediately. He wants to, but he doesn’t. For a few moments, they just stare at each other.
Finally, Simon catches his bearings and looks down at his water bottle. He takes another sip, and forces himself to wait ten seconds before looking up again. The guy isn’t looking back, so Simon allows himself to linger.
He looks familiar. Simon is sure he’s seen him somewhere, but he has no idea where. There’s something about the shade of golden blonde of his hair that resonates with him. It feels like the answer is at the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite get to it.
Just as he thinks he’s about to solve the mystery, the guy glances at him, and then away just as quickly.
It happens again, and again, and again. And even when Simon himself isn’t looking, he can feel himself being watched. It’s weird, but kind of exciting in a way.
And then, as quickly as it began, it’s over. The guy gets up and leaves, without a glance in Simon’s direction.
Well that's it then, Simon thinks, and goes back to his workout.
He puts in another ten minutes, but then gives in. His muscles are sore and he just wants to go take a hot, steaming shower. So he does.
It does wonders for his aching limbs, and he kind of wishes he could stay under the shower head forever. But he doesn’t.
He wraps a towel around his waist and goes out to the locker room. He almost stops mid-step, however, because right next to his gym bag sits the mysterious guy with the golden hair.
Shaken, he forces himself to keep walking and to sit down next to the guy. He’s careful not to make any eye contact as he hoists his gym bag onto his lap and pulls out clean clothes to change into.
As usual this early in the morning, the locker room is fairly silent except for the occasional exchange of pleasantries, or the rustling of clothing. The guy doesn’t say anything, and neither does Simon.
He puts on a plain pair of jeans and his favorite t-shirt, a promotional shirt he bought before the airing of the second part of season 1 of The Get Down, his favorite show.
He sits back down and starts putting on his socks.
“Do you watch The Get Down?” the guy says suddenly.
Simon is so surprised, he misses his foot with the second sock and almost hits himself in the face.
He straightens up and looks at the guy, who’s drying his hair and looking attentively at him. “Uh, yeah. I’m a huge fan.”
“No way,” the guy says, smiling. “That's awesome. I just got into it last week. It’s so good, right?”
“Really?” Simon says, genuinely surprised. He shifts so he’s angled towards the guy as he continues, “I don’t know anyone else who watches it. It’s so good.”
“Isn’t it? My brother Alec introduced me to it. I don’t have Netflix but he does so I borrowed his and now I’m hooked. It’s so good I’m almost considering getting it for myself. I don’t really have the money though.”
“Ah that sucks.”
“Yeah,” the guy says with a shrug and a smile.
Simon smiles back.
They look at each other without saying anything for a few seconds, waiting for the other to speak, until the guy looks away and keeps drying his hair.
Simon does the same.
They quietly go about their business for a while. Then Simon turns to him and says, “You could borrow my account if you want.”
“Really? You’d do that?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“That’s so cool, thanks man.”
He grins widely and gives Simon’s shoulder a friendly slap. Then he leans over and flips his hair forward to towel dry it some more. If Simon didn’t know better, he’d say that time slowed down and the wet strands of hair danced through the air in cinematic slow motion while a sensuous track played in the background and single droplets of water dramatically landed on Simon who just watched in awe, his jaw slack.
Of course that didn’t really happen and instead Simon ends up staring at the back of the guy’s neck until he straightens up again and Simon proceeds to look anywhere but at his face in fear of exposing what he’d been thinking of.
To occupy his hands, Simon grabs his hoodie and pulls it on, slowly zipping it up. He puts on his shoes and stuffs the towel and the gym clothes into his bag. Just as he’s about to get up and leave, he hears himself say, “Or you could come watch it at my place.”
“Yeah?” the guy asks. He’s smiling. “Tonight?”
“Yeah, if you want,” Simon says. He rubs the back of his neck.
“Cool.” The guy turns around and rummages around his bag before turning back to Simon, brandishing a pen. He holds out his hand, palm up. “Give me your hand.”
Simon obliges. The guy gently closes his fingers around Simon’s wrist and scribbles down a series of numbers on the back of his hand.
“There. Text me your address?”
“Sure,” Simon says, nodding. He’s not sure what’s happening but he thinks it’s good.
The guy gets to his feet and nods. “Awesome. See ya tonight.” And with that, he leaves.