Shadowhunting IRL

Griffinclaw

Hey, y'all. I'm spoiling you; here's the second chapter of the week! I know we'd all agreed the apocalyse was more likely than such a bizarre occurrence; but apparently I was possessed. so. make of it what you will--but there you go, a new post. I'm just as surprised as you are, lone reader. Enjoy!

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...she was sick of ignoring that, pushing her feelings down, looking away, clearing her throat and smiling like nothing was wrong every time Simon was with Maia. Every time she wanted to grab his arms and twine her own around the nape of his neck, where the hair was straight but soft. She could almost see it, his expression; one of dazed wonder. And for good reason, now if she could only find him, stare into those earthy eyes—

She blinked. And blinked again to prove the alcohol wrong. But her beer-induced haze had correctly narrowed its focus of recognition; those bottomless yet perfectly ordinary brown eyes that locked with hers suddenly from across the room were really Simon's. She walked up to him.

'Hey! You were gone a long time. Where's your girlfriend?' a question asked only to gauge his reaction; she could see Maia talking to Jace and Clary on the other side of the room.

He laughed; she didn't think she'd ever seen him so uncomfortable. Or perhaps it was the alcohol's wishful thinking, that he'd take her words in a different light than those of his other friends. 'Yeah, um, I was just inside, in the kitchen. And, uh, me and Maia, it isn't exactly yet...'

She interrupted him; she didn't think she could stand to hear him lie. He'd actually said 'yet'. GOD. 'Yeah, ok, ok. You're just snogging her.' She'd been watching far too many British sitcoms. His forehead creased, brows knitting in real anger now. She shook her head; this was going all wrong. 'Sorry. Come on, Simon. Let's just go outside. It's practically the fifth circle of hell in here.'

'Second circle.'

'what?'

'Lust, not anger. That's what you meant, right? Beer and teenage hormones?'

'Whatever.' She'd meant anger. Maia was practically Izzy's fury personified by now. And Maia was so damn pretty, too. And in most of the same freaking honours classes as Simon, despite being a year younger. By the Angel, what had gotten into her? It wasn't like her to be this petty.

To his credit, Simon attempted small talk while they passed the kitchen, which had red solo cups strewn about and a black marble countertop. The dirt-smeared shelves were painted neon pink. Ugh.

'So, how's the new internship at the station?'

'It's fine. It doesn't matter, anyway. Not like I change anything with my carrying files and coffee runs and cleaning out officers' desks. There are always enough hostile stares to hand out to people that are black, that's the indulgence I'm receiving.'

'Wait, the officers are racist?' They were outside now. The air was a little too cool and crisp, and she wrapped her leather jacket tighter around herself.

'The civilians, mostly. They're blatant about it, at least. Doesn't matter, nerd. We're not out for that.' He leaned against the wall next to her; his profile was lovely. And...sexy? God, she was drunk.

'Why do you always say that like it's a bad thing?'

'The racism is a shitty, low and blind thing. By the Angel. You call it bad.' Her words were slurring slightly now. The alley was really dark, too; how hadn't she noticed that? They'd barely be seen from the house, let alone the adjoining road. The silhouettes of the garbage sacks on the opposite brick wall shone under the lone streetlight, making them look like otherworldly, shapely liquids. Or maybe that was just the beer, making the pitch black of the bags swim before her eyes.