HEY GUYS! I KNOW CASSANDRA CLARE WRITES IN 3RD PERSON, I WAS OING TO DO THAT BUT I THOUGHT YOU GUYS MIGHT LIKE 1ST PERSON MORE. IF NOT PM ME!

THANK YOU!

Beside me, Simons humming rings through my ears. I breathe in the chilly December air that tingles my nose. The bark from the old oak tree outside my house jams into my back uncomfortably but I know if I move Simon- who is hanging upside down like a bat- will lose his footing and fall. The icy wind blows my hair hectic, the red ropes colliding with the ruined paintbrush stuffed in my ponytail. Right now, my hands are covered in dried paint that swirls in a rainbow across my palms, my denim dungarees are frayed at the hems with paint sprayed all over them that add to the worn look. Dead or dying leave crumple to the ground and the artist side of me longs for a notepad and pencil, demanding me to capture this moment.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be in Dungeons and Dragons?" Simons' head pops up from under his body as he swings up to sit next to me. His dark tousled hair covers his mahogany eyes while his cheeks are rosy pink from the cold.

"To be honest," I fiddle with the peeling tree beneath me, "no," a tiny flash of disappointment crosses Simons face, "Why? Do you?"

He lazily shrugs his slight shoulders under his quirky D&D shirt, "Sometimes. It's just, this life is so boring at points, I mean- what would I be like if heroes and villains existed? This life is so- mundane." His eyes are distant, almost as if he's trying to recollect something.

"Mundane? Simon where the heck did you learn that word from?" I chuckle, kindly punching my best friend. His eyebrows knit together as he lightly laughs beside me, "Come on Si, when did you think our life is boring. We're best friends who live together, you have an awesome band AND Maureen isn't pestering you anymore- what's more to get?" I wiggle my brows at him, shuffling close to him, resting my head in the crook of his neck while placing my arms around his. I distinctly hear the best of his heart as his chest rises and falls in a rhymical style. I feel him inwardly laugh as his body bobs up and down. I stare up into his eyes- that are clouded with amusement- as he stares down at me.

"Pestering? Clare where the heck did you learn that word from?"

"I sometimes might read that dictionary you keep stacked on your dressing table," I say comically, poking him in the ribs.

"Come on love birds! Lunch is ready!" Rebecca's voice booms through the open garden, shocking Simon and me. We lose our stances and tumble towards the ground. We land with a thump, me laying on top of him. A piercing shock runs through my bones causing me to bite down hard on my lip so a tiny blood flow happens. Our faces are inches apart but I can't help myself from bursting into laughter. We stay like that for some time, us dying from laughter with Rebecca filming every moment. Simons cold-nipped hand reaches up to wipe the blood from my chin, the laughing gradually dies and we're just lying there- looking each other dead in the eyes. An emotion I don't recognize is hidden behind the brown of his eyes, I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion but he just shakes his head and pulls me up with him. He stuffs his hands in his denim pockets and saunters inside, me lingering behind him. "What happened there?" Confusion clings to Rebecca's tone but I just shake her off, wondering the same thing.

What happened there?