Chapter Text
Tick tock went the clock above Christopher Lightwood. He wasn't certain of how long he had been working in his room, only that he wasn't finished. Distantly, he was aware of the door opening behind him, but he chose not to pay attention.
"Mr. Lightwood."
Something familiar nicked at his consciousness. He brushed it aside. Whatever it was, they were being a nuisance. If he ignored them, maybe they would go away.
"Mr. Lightwood."
His hands were caught in a routine, already far beyond his control. Every fiber in his being stood, transfixed, as he slanted the contents of the test tube into another. The sweet smell of acetone sat heady in his lungs. He had been reaching for a glass on the shelf, when suddenly he was stopped. His eyes traveled down to see his wrist trapped between slender fingers. The cords of muscle in his jaw tightened and he turned, an uncomfortable heat building up inside him—
"Christopher, stop. Please."
A noise rang in his ears, rage overshadowed by surprise. Despite the glasses he was wearing, all he saw was a blurry figure in front of him. He heard the sound of a wet blotch hit the floor, followed by another.
"I don't want you to hurt yourself."
He began to remember Thomas, asking if he was alright. Matthew, trying to smooth talk him into stepping outside. James, locking his arms around his waist in order to physically drag him from the room. Anna, pacing by the doorway and watching him with concern. His parents, muttering about how much they were worried sick about his condition.
"I don't want to lose another person I care about."
Her face finally came into clarity, and a name escaped from his lips. "Grace."