6Jace has read a thousand books. He doesn't watch much television though. It isn't helping any. He was getting desperate – drinking, smoking, picking bar fights with werewolves. Clary was so far away, yet she only a few blocks from the exact place he stood. He had to take his mind off of her.
Faking smiles, lying through his pearly white teeth – this wasn't him. His life sucked. All this shit was close to killing him. But he couldn't actually say anything about it, because he was Jace. The unflappable, unsinkable, unshakeable, unbeatable Jonathan fucking Wayland.
No. Morgenstern. He wasn't Michael Wayland's son.
He was Valentine's Morgenstern.
You've read the books,
You've watched the shows,
What's the best way no one knows, yeah,
Meditate, get hypnotized.
Anything to take from your mind.
But it won't go, ohhhh ohhh
You're doing all these things out of desperation,
Ohhh ohhh,
You're going through six degrees of separation.
You hit the drink, you take a toke
Watch the past go up in smoke.
Fake a smile, yeah, lie and say that,
You're better now than ever, and your life's okay
When it's not. No.
You're doing all these things out of desperation,
Ohhh ohhh,
You're going through six degrees of separation.
His heart was broken. His whole life was lie. His family wasn't actually his family. His surrogate family couldn't stand to look at him.
He wanted to die. He just didn't have the courage to do it himself.
Hell, his world was split down the middle, ripped apart and shredded to pieces. The girl he loved was his sister. His real family was either dead or a mass murderer.
He can't fix himself. It's impossible. He broke a little bit inside every time he saw Clary, but the worst came when he saw Clary kissing Simon through her window.
First, you think the worst is a broken heart
What's gonna kill you is the second part
And the third, Is when your world splits down the middle
And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself
Fifth, you see them out with someone else
And the sixth, is when you admit that you may have fucked up a little
Oh, yeah. He was fucked.
Every man for himself.
(Oh no there ain't no help, it's every man for himself)
(No no there ain't no help, it's every man for himself)
He got worse, he knows.
So he went to a witch. Bought some nasty potions to knock him out and take his mind of things. He couldn't help but chuckle once to himself, a dark, foreboding sound that was guttural and harsh.
The witch led him to a bed, laid him down and surrounded his body with stone. Things to unlock his chakras and help him feel the world as it truly is.
This just made him think of Clary and when she snidely told him not to quote Blake at her.
Maybe the drugs would heal his soul. He doubted it though.
You tell your friends, yeah, strangers too, You're only doing things out of desperation, First, you think the worst is a broken heart
Anyone who'll throw an arm around you, yeah
Tarot cards
Gems and stones,
Believing all that shit is gonna heal your soul.
Well it's not, no, wohhhh
Ohhh ohhh,
You're goin' through six degrees of separation.
What's gonna kill you is the second part
And the third, Is when your world splits down the middle
And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself
Fifth, you see them out with someone else
And the sixth, is when you admit that you may have fucked up a little
He. Was. Fucked. He had no life without Clary. He'd known her only for a few short weeks, but his mind was made up. He couldn't start over, he wouldn't find closure. He wanted her, he needed her. He needed to feel her skin on his.
He needed to feel her underneath him, her nails scratching lines down his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, her lips on his, her throat raw and sore from screaming his name out in pleasure… over and over again.
But it couldn't happen.
Because she was his sister.
His fucking sister.
Through the haze of the drugs, he saw Clary's face, eyes rolled back into her head, a sheen of sweat over her naked body.
But he started to come down. No there's no starting over, No there's no starting over, First, you think the worst is a broken heart
Without finding closure, you'd take them back,
No hesitation,
That's when you know you've reached the sixth degree of separation
Without finding closure, you'd take them back,
No hesitation,
That's when you know you've reached the sixth degree of separation
What's gonna kill you is the second part
And the third, Is when your world splits down the middle
And fourth, you're gonna think that you fixed yourself
Fifth, you see them out with someone else
And the sixth is when you admit that you may have fucked up a little
His body ached, vision blurred.
He stood and stumbled from the alleyway door, dropping money on the floor for the hag to pick up at her own leisure.
Jace went home, only to be plagued with dreams of Clary and the smoky visions from the drugs.