Work Text:
It’s a guitar solo that Simon wrote himself, and when he steps upfront on the stage, Clary's eyes are all for him, grinning.
he belts out the lyrics in a gentle, slow voice, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he leans over the microphone, fingers drumming the strings with ease from years and years of practice.
He’s really good, clary thinks with pride, deserves a much better audience than a half empty café.
at least that’s her opinion, which couldn’t be really trusted professionally, given the bias that he’s her best friend and the song is about her.
