Okay, so Simon wasn't completely over the girl he had loved for ten years. It was October, for God's sake. Only two months had passed since it all began, since the Shadowhunters had sashayed into Clary's life and to his—turning his life upside down, breaking his heart, and significantly altering his eating habits, which was why he was standing in his kitchen right now, pouring red Kool-Aid down the sink. When the plastic bottle was empty, he grabbed a sealed bag of red liquid from the fridge and, tearing it open, poured it into the Kool-Aid bottle. Chicken blood—ugh. On the rare occasion that he had a choice which kind Magnus brought him, he much preferred sheep. Chicken had a weird, corny aftertaste that always left him wanting Listerine. But he couldn't complain; blood was blood.

Try as he might to concentrate on the subtle differences between the tastes of various farm animals, Simon could smell the sugary drink splashing down the drain, and the fake-watermelon scent brought thoughts of Clary. He remembered when he and Clary, both just ten years old, would hole up in his old tree house for hours on end, reading comics and eating Kool-Aid mix right out of the packet. It had been so easy before.

He was getting better at not thinking about her all the time. She was with Jace now, and she was happy. Simon could see that much—she was happier than ever. And he should be happy too, shouldn't he? Wasn't that how you were supposed to feel when people you loved had finally gotten something they wanted?

He tried hard. And he was getting better at smiling at her, even when Jace was around. For the most part, he could deal with the blonde Shadowhunter. Either out of habit or out of respect for Simon, Clary didn't often hold Jace's hand around him. Simon had a hunch that that wasn't the case when the two were alone, but if he didn't dwell on that too much, he could act almost normal

Sometimes Simon caught sight of them when they thought no one was looking, and those moments were the hardest. Jace looked at Clary as if he was constantly trying to memorize her face, like he might never see her again. And the way Clary looked back... Simon felt a knot somewhere in his intestines whenever he saw that. He knew that look. It had been on his own face, he was sure, when he had first seen the sun again.

He didn't complain; Clary was still his on Tuesday afternoons, when they would go to his house to make fun of old movies and eat junk food. It felt just like old times then, like normal. But Wednesday always came. He always drove Clary to the Institute for her new Shadowhunter lessons, and then to Eric's for band practice. They still hadn't decided on a name, although Beastie Rock was Eric's new favorite. They were making progress, too. One perk of the vampire reflexes: Simon was now deemed an "awesomely sick" drummer.