DISCLAIMER: TMI owned by Cassandra Clare.

The Day Before

by Sparrows13 and xXxNtKxXx

'This is just so freaking sad,' I lament to Simon, who may or may not be listening to me, seeing as how he was very rudely texting his girlfriend right in between our conversation.

'Are you even listening to me?' I ask him, snapping my fingers between his face and the screen.

He looks up reluctantly.

'What?' he asks, seeming vaguely annoyed.

I roll my eyes and plop on to the bed next to him, lying on my back. 'Another Valentine's day is going to be spent with me lying on the floor with a bottle of liquor in my hand, screaming Adele songs to my cat,' I remind him, sighing.

'Not mine,' he informs me proudly and I sit upright, frowning.

'Why—wait, don't answer that. Isabelle's making you do something, isn't she?' I ask him and he shakes his head.

'Nope. It's a surprise for her,' he says, beaming.

I blanch in disgust. 'This is Isabelle Lightwood we're talking about. Nothing's ever going to make her happy,' I tell him matter-of-factly.

My hatred of Isabelle Lightwood is sort of a long story. Well, my hatred. Simon worships her like she's some sort of goddess, bestowing the gift of her presence upon him.

'Lover-boy's not joining you?' Simon asks and I know he's trying to be subtle about it, but he's failing. Miserably. Like he's drowning in a toilet.

I glare at him, shoving a pillow on his chest before lying back down, huffing. I cross my arms on my chest as I think of the fact that my boyfriend is working his ass off on Valentine's Day. The thought saddens me like someone just smashed their fist into a perfectly good cake. And before anyone judges, I love food. Its destruction depress me.

Simon probably senses my feelings—because he's always been good at that. He's like some sort of psychic or something, I don't know—and he turns over on his side, facing me. He pushes away a stray curl, which has found its way out of my loose braid.

'You know, you're welcome to join us,' he offers and I scoff.

'And have loads of fun third-wheeling where Izzy's going to shoot me the evil eye every few seconds? No thank you,' I tell him and get off the bed, tapping my feet around on the floor, looking for my flats.

My feet hit a soft material and I drag out the shoes from beneath the bed by my toes and slip them on. I let the tip of the shoe dangle off my right foot before I jerk my toes forward and the back of the flat fits around my heel. I feel like a champion. Extreme-shoe-wearing should be an Olympic sport.

I repeat with the other shoe, and stand up, gathering my iPod and my messenger bag, stuffing the former into the latter. Oh my God, look at me wording my way around.

I wave goodbye to Simon and open his apartment door only to be greeted by Elaine Lewis, whose face is hidden by the brown paper bags of groceries she's carrying.

'Clary!' she exclaims, and I try to tiptoe away but then she says, 'Oh darling, did you hear about the Valentine's Day sale at the confectionery? I simply cannot believe the prices!'

I roll my eyes but she continues talking to me from behind the heap of what I'm guessing are chocolates. 'You know, it's our nineteenth anniversary tomorrow—' she tells me and before she can continue, I cut her off because I really don't want to hear about her plans for tomorrow. It's only going to lead to me thinking about how perfect her life is—married, with kids—and how she's going to spend V-day with someone and all that.

'SIMON! Your mom's here,' I yell towards him. 'What a shameless kid,' I tell her, 'Simon, help her out.'

And by the time Simon's there and his mom can say 'Hamburger,' I'm out of there and on the streets.

I walk around our little town, kicking around pebbles and whenever a cat passes by me, I go, 'here, kitty!' and then it runs away, and I'm left thinking, Yep. I bet even the cat's running home to his wife or mate or whatever the hell cats call their significant other.

It's dark by the time I reach our apartment—and by our, I mean Jace's and mine. I flip the switch on once I'm inside, and I realize that the lights are out. Sure. Why not? Why don't they just steal the effing shower-head while they're at it? And I don't even know whom I mean by they. I guess I just need someone to blame so I'm not at fault because I may have kind of sort of probably forgotten to pay the bill.

'Argh!' I scream, kicking around blindly, and then the worst thing ever happens. And by that, I mean a colossal thing. A thing, which I do not even wish upon my worst enemy.

I stub my pinkie toe on a chair leg. Hard.

I start to tear up, and I sit down on the chair before I condemn it to hell. I grit my teeth I can almost see red.

'God, why can't you just be home sometime? 'I yell at no one in particular. Though I know I mean my words to be for Jace.

Don't get me wrong. I love him. And he's a great boyfriend. When his head isn't buried underneath a pile of papers. And when he actually has the time to stay home and do something, which does not include accounts and all that.

And no, I don't mean it in that way. No. Don't be perverted. I mean, do something fun as a couple. Wait…that came out wrong too. As in, go riding or—God, why is it that whatever I say turns out sounding sexual or mildly perverted?

Start afresh. I mean, maybe we could go ice-skating, or I could drag him around as I shop—though I hate shopping. Anything.

But obviously, it was always apparent that he'd rather work than spend time with me. And it doesn't help that he worked with Isabelle Lightwood. His ex.

I sigh and fumble around for the sideboard and my hand hits the flashlight, so I press the button.

Nothing.

Today just has to be the worst day of my life.

I shuffle around some things in my bag and draw out the phone, and I start to dial Simon's number, but then I realize that I don't want to listen to him prattle on about his girlfriend—whom I hate.

So I do what is probably embarrassing considering I'm an adult.

'Hey mom. What's up?,' I start to say but then I hear her voice-mail message.

'I'm not home, leave a message,' her voice says and then I hear a beep. Why?!

I finally call Jace.

'Herondale, I swear, if you give me some bullshit about a meeting or something, I will castrate you,' I tell him before he even has a chance to say anything.

I hear him laughing and then, 'Who pissed in your cheerios this morning?' he asks me and I glare at the wall.

'The electricity's out,' I tell him and he groans. I can almost picture him rubbing his temples.

'Right. Well, I'll have it done online. Just go to Simon's or something till then,' he says and I huff.

'What do you mean by "till then"?' I ask him.

'I'm sort of busy right now, Clary,' he tells me.

'Fine, fine,' I tell him. You're calm, very calm. You're the chill-est person on earth, I tell myself over and over again. Yup, you are totally calm.

'Okay. See you,' he says and clicks off. I notice he doesn't say when he's going to see me, which ticks me off.

I stuff the phone back into my bag and storm out of my apartment, slamming the door on the way and earning a faint yell from the neighbor. Whatever. I can't deal with their shit right now.

Twenty minutes later, I'm sitting at Java Jones, listening to Jordan on the mic, and hearing Maia swoon over him.

'Why can't you just ask him out?' I ask for the umpteenth time and she shakes her head for the umpteenth time.

I don't see why she can't just ask him. Is she waiting for him? I'm sure he's noticed her making googly eyes and whatever else people do when they're crushing on others. But honestly, it would be surprising if he didn't have a girlfriend.

I roll my eyes and wave Jordan over once he's finished with his set. And now, Maia is looking at me all evilly. I shrug. If she's not going to ask him, I'm going to ask him for her.

'What's up?' he asks us once he's seated and has a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.

'What are you doing for Valentine's Day? I ask him casually, like my friend next to me isn't about to have a heart attack.

Jordan shrugs and sips from his cup. 'Don't know yet,' he tells us.

'That's okay,' I assure him, 'Maia isn't doing anything either.' I wait for him to pick up a clue.

Maia looks like she's about to piss herself.

But Jordan doesn't react. He nods. 'Cool.'

I inwardly face palm. How thickheaded can be be? 'So, I was wondering if we all could go watch a movie tomorrow,' I tell him. It's the perfect yet clichéd plan. They'll show up at the theater and I'll make an excuse, leaving those two alone.

He nods. 'Sure. That would be fun,' he says, and then I pay the bill and leave those two alone.

Now, I don't know where to go. I'm popping candies into my mouth from a small dispenser, and I choose to ignore Simon's warning that I will start to shit a new flavour everyday.

I walk on the streets, and under the dim streetlights, and I'm bored. Out of my mind.

The lights. The sound. It's all in slow motion.

Somehow, I'm walking by his house. The guy who quite literally had broken my heart and crushed it to splinters years ago. And a vengeful feeling overwhelms me.

That little bastard. Oh no, do not get me wrong. I'm over him. I've been over him and I am over him. It's the way he treats girls, the way he's treated me-that's what bugs the hell out of me. Ticks me off.

Sebastian Verlac. That's a story right there.

Son of a biscuit- I'm a good kid, I don't cuss-, renowned player and heartbreaker, and somehow, my ex. I knew I should've listened to Simon, but I didn't, and I dated him. Only to have him cheat on me with the one and only Isabelle Lightwood. That obviously gave Simon lots of 'I told you so' ammunition, but then that all went to shit when he started dating Isabelle. I warned him-still do-but he doesn't believe me when I tell him how she's going to stomp all over his heart in those seven-inch gladiator sandals.

I'm about to just walk by, and then, like it's some force of nature, I get so pissed, I start seeing red. An absolutely, absolutely absurd idea occurs to me.

God, I really hope this works, I think as I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk towards his apartment building with an Elsa level swag-like the kind when she slams the door after saying 'The cold never bothered me anyway.'

I pull my hair tie off of my wrist and tie up my wild hair into a ponytail, and I roll up my sleeves.

Once I'm on the doorstep, I look at all the name tags, and then zero in on two. One is Sebastian's, and one is some Emily's. I ring Sebastian's bell and I make sure I'm standing away from the camera.

His voice filters through the intercom, sounding bored. 'Who's this?' he asks and I have a sudden urge to punch the wires out of the intercom.

I compose myself, and clear my throat, adopting a new voice. 'Hi, Emily here,' I say, hoping my voice doesn't give me away.

'I locked myself out... Again,' I force a nervous laugh.

'You want me to buzz you in?' he asks, apparently unfazed.

'Er...yes,' I tell him and tap my foot against the tiles of the front porch.

I hear the distinctive buzz and click. I mumble a thank you and slip in.

I don't know what I was thinking, getting into this, but I know I'm going to humiliate him. I swear I will.

I find the fire escape shortly after I get in. It's located right next to the door to the stairwell, and it looks rickety as fuck. I'm pretty sure it held a couple of Native Indians or something.

I put my palm out on the rusty railing, and steady myself as I step out onto the grill. There. That's not so bad.

From the name tag, I've gathered that his flat is on the second floor, barely a climb from here.

I start going upwards, being very careful not to trip and fall because I am infamously known for my clumsiness.

Once I reach the first floor landing, I see things that I can never un-see. I don't even know why people insist on trying to do power yoga wearing spandex shorts and wife beaters when they have so much of belly flap and arm flap just oozing from their skin tight clothes. And just... Ugh. No.

I make my way over to the second floor and by the time I reach, my hands smell metallic. I don't like it.

I see Sebastian has left his window open. Who wouldn't? It's scorching out here, even though the sun has just set.

I hear him singing All The Single Ladies very loudly for someone who is very definitely not a lady who desperately needs a ring on her finger, and I assume he's in the shower-because no self respecting person in their right mind would sing this loud and with such a cracking voice. Dear god, what did I ever see in him?

I carefully maneuver myself over the sill, and I land with a light thump into his room. I realize by now that I'm trespassing, but somehow I can't find it in myself to care.

And now I know what I'm going to do. I rub my hands together, and I imagine myself smiling an evil smile, laughing an evil laugh.

I tiptoe over to his dresser, and then pick out every single one of his boxers, and then shove them out the window. I repeat with his shirts, pants and jackets, and all his underwear till there is nothing left. I shut the window and look around for the lock.

Bingo.

I click the lock through the latch, and shove the key deep into my pockets. Of course, I want to shove the key so far up his ass he'll have something to choke on. But I'm a nice person

I rummage through his bedside drawer, and then I hit jackpot. I wrap my fingers around his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

This motherfucker is going to suffer. Oh yes.

I sneak out of the room, and into the living room. I light the cigarette, and then hold it up while stretching my arm. Any second now...

And yes. The sound of the alarm rips through the apartment, and I estimate that it's going to take Sebastian about five minutes before he rushes through here clad in his towel. I calmly open his mini fridge next to the sofa and pull out a Coke Zero. Hmm. Who knew he'd be picky and consider his diet?

I hear a shuffling sound and then a 'Oh shit. No, no, no! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?' I can hear him rattling the window. But when it doesn't open, I hear a string of colorful words, which would put a pirate to shame.

I take it as a cue and hide in the closet, not closing it completely. Sebastian rushes by me and towards the door, undoing all the locks.

My hand reaches towards his towel, and just as his foot steps outside, I yank. Hard, and throw myself against the door, effectively shutting him out and then I lock the door.

I hear Sebastian's frantic shouting and I hear him bang his fists on the door. And then another couple of 'shit's and 'no's.

I press my face to the door, watching through the peephole as Sebastian claps his hand on his...er...well, I don't need to describe it.

He looks around wildly, as people pass him by, and a couple of them even snap a picture of him looking like a disgruntled and horrified troll.

The best is when an old lady passes him by.

'Oh my,' she exclaims, fixing her glasses with her free hand as another clutches a bag of groceries and a purse.

'I told them,' she mutters, eying Sebastian closely as he stands shocked. 'I know I asked them for a statue but they didn't have to be so vulgar,' she prattles on, her hand reaching towards him.

Sebastian's sensed seem to come back to him as he slaps the old lady's hand away and then snatches her grocery bag, using it to cover the parts which had the lady saying 'Oh my.'

This seems to infuriate the woman as she shrieks out a loud cry that sounds a lot like a battle cry and swings her purse towards him, hitting him squarely on his side.

I cringe. That is definitely going to bruise.

I watch, amused, as Sebastian jumps under the woman's assault.

'Bad-thwack-'statue'-thwack-'I'-thwack-'do not appreciate theft!'

Many people stand there and record the sight. It's all amazing.

I walk away from the building, a sense of pride dominating my nerves.

As I'm walking home-because I guess the electricity is back by now- my phone buzzes loudly against my thigh and it tickles, so I burst into a fit of giggles right there on the street among other people.

And I'm sure I look weird-a girl laughing maniacally as her phone keeps buzzing.

I compose myself once the buzzing stops and I pull out my phone and swipe the code in.

4 Message(s) from Maia

* HOO DA GURL?! -M

* YOO DA GURL! -M

* YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED. SHIT. THE CAPS IS STUCK BECAUSE THE PHONE KEEPS HANGING. -M

* OK. It's fine now. Why did I even bother? I need caps to tell you this. JORDAN ASKED ME OUT! He didn't want to be rude and cancel plans for tomorrow so we're going out the day after Valentine's. Eeeeek. I luv you. Mwah. Imagine there's a kissy face emoji here. -M

I cringe at her grammar in the first two lines and then I text back.

* Imagine there's an I'm-wiping-off-your-kiss emoji right here. Jordan asked you out? -C

* No. My hamster did. Yes, Clary, Jordan asked me out. -M

*Good for you. Have fun. -C

I lock the phone and I'm about to put it in my pocket but then I remember what happened and settle for the bag instead.

When I open the door to our apartment, the lights are back on. Thank God. Otherwise I'd have to crash at Simon's...who still lives with his mother, even though he's twenty...which is just sad.

But they aren't just lights. They're candles and lanterns. The entire apartment is lit up. I don't know what's happening.

I dump my bag on the table next to the door and run a hand through my hair.

I pick up the cordless and dial Jace's number. 'Hey,' he greets me.

'Don't "hey" me. What's up with all the candles and stuff?' I ask him, cutting to the chase.

Jace pauses. He seems to have forgotten anything about candles because he sighs. 'You're going to be mad at me,' he tells me.

'Elaborate,' I reply, my head beginning to ache.

He hesitates, and I have an urge to throw a frying pan across the room. 'Well, so, Simon came to me, and then he told me about his plans to surprise Isabelle, so of course I couldn't refuse,' he rambles.

'What did you do?' I growl, losing patience.

'Ah...Simon needed some place to surprise, and he didn't want to do it at his house because he still lives with his mum, so I said yes,' he says, and I can see he's not giving me a straight answer.

'Yes to what?' I ask, kind of starting to understand.

'To our flat,' he clarifies. And that does it.

'Jace!' I shout into the receiver. 'I want to sleep tonight! Not listen to those two banging the headboard against the wall!' I tell him.

'Oh, the both of us are staying at Isabelle's place,' he says calmly.

'Oh,' I mimic him, 'and Simon couldn't have thought of that? To surprise her at her place?'

'He did, but you know Izzy. She lives in a studio flat. Too small,' he tells me.

He's crazy. He's actually crazy. Do I look like I want to stay in Isabelle's flat? Do I even want her in our flat? And he didn't even ask me, before he decided to just randomly give the apartment away for a day. I might as well give it to that hobo across the street.

'Huh. Well, I'm not going to her place. And I sure as hell am not going to stay at Simon's. I don't know how he stays there. I mean, I've stayed over a couple of times and he has very sexually active parents. I don't even know how-never mind,' I rant. 'Why couldn't Simon have rented a hotel room?' I whine.

'Play nice, Clary. And he couldn't because he's cooking her dinner and hotel rooms don't have kitchens stocked with ingredients like ours does. Thanks to you,' he grumbles.

'Oh, so now it's my fault for having food in the kitchen?' I ask. 'Then basically, we shouldn't have food. Food is the root of the problem,' I say and for a second I have a tempting thought of ridding the kitchen of food.

'Play nice. It's just one night,' he reminds me, like I need a reminder that my life is going to be shitty for a night.

'Speaking of-' I start to ask him about what we're going to do, but then he cuts me off.

'Look, I have to go, okay?' he tells me and then before I can say anything, he clicks off.

'-what are we going to do tomorrow?' I finish my sentence lamely to the walls.

I sigh and tears prick at the back of my eyes. Why can't he ever just pay attention to me instead of his work? Maybe he should get married to his work or something. I mean, he seems to love it more than me.

Isabelle's apartment is like a rat's hole-in-the-wall house. Her bed is pushed against the wall, and when I flip the switch, fairy lights tangled up on the wall above her bed twinkle.

Her bed seems like someone shat blankets on it, and added a couple of sparkles. I don't wish to get into details of how someone shat blankets, so I pick my way over to her bed, trying not to stumble over her magazines and break a vital bone.

There are dishes everywhere, like the girl doesn't know what a sink is. Or maybe there is a sink here somewhere, and it's just buried under piles of Izzy-debris.

I finally reach the bed and I plop down among the heaps of fabric and I feel something dig into my-fine, I'll say it-butt.

I sigh. What does she keep in here? I wouldn't be surprised if I dug through and found a platypus.

I get off the bed and I rummage through the pile until my hand curls around a velvet box. I gasp. Simon's proposed?

When my hand resurfaces, I see that the velvet is a rich green color. Out of curiosity, I pry open the top and it clicks with a pop.

My brows furrow. There's an emerald ring in nestled atop a golden cushion. Wait...isn't that...Holy shit, it's a ring. And engagement one. What the f- I'm about to combust with rage but then I see a tiny white piece peeking out from under the cushion.

Screw Isabelle and Simon's piddly-assed proposal, I think as I carefully remove the cushion until I see a piece of paper folded again and again to fit the box.

I open it, smooth it out and begin to read.

Clary,

I'm so sorry for the inconsiderate asshole that I've been to you for the past couple of months. I had to work, and the ring is why. I think you know that I love you, or maybe you doubt me. And you have a valid reason to.

All I ask of you is that you give me a chance. I know you're probably rolling your eyes. But give me one more chance. To be a better boyfriend. Or husband. The choice is yours. I won't pressure you into marrying me. I'd never, ever pressure you.

I know you've probably found the box by now, and now you're thinking, 'So that's why he wanted me to stay at Isabelle's apartment. Oh.'

Marry me? If not, wear the ring as a promise that you'll marry me one day. And if not that, keep it.

Jace

I look up to see Jace standing in the doorway, the light from the hall creating a halo around his hair, clearly debating whether to say something or not.

And then I realize. It doesn't matter if we're having problems. It's normal. We can always work it out.

I turn back, and I can almost see his face fall before I grab the cushion, pluck the ring off it and slide it down my left ring finger.

His smile is brilliant, and I bet so is mine.

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