Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this fiction are the property of Cassandra Clare. No copyright infringement is intended.

That Night on Blackfriars Bridge

The Marks are finished. Having no more reason hold your hand, I lower your sleeve and return the stele to my pocket. I can feel you watching me; you must have noticed how my fingers lingered on your wrist.

The silent tension between us is suddenly broken. We both sense her presence.

You don't even spare me a glance before you run up the steps to meet her. My chest constricts, and I find it hard to breathe as I watch you seek in each other what neither of you could find in me.

Your lips touch the back of her hand for only a second, but it is enough to make the ground beneath my feet begin to crumble. I despise myself for begrudging you that bit of happiness.

Do you remember the night you kissed me on Blackfriars Bridge? It started with just a light brush of your lips against mine. I should have turned away—you wouldn't have held it against me—but it was the first time you'd ever asked me for anything, and I couldn't deny you. So I allowed myself a moment of weakness.

Just one kiss, I thought. Next thing I knew, my hand was inside your trousers. I can still feel you, so warm and hard in my palm; your mouth pressed against my shoulder; the contrast of lips and teeth and tongue through the fabric of my coat.

The words you gasped, right before that first pulse of heat covered my fingers, still hang in the air over the bridge. They cling to the wind, waiting for an answer long after you've lost hope. I know because I go there sometimes to hear them again.

It pained me not to respond, but it was the right thing to do. There is only a dark hollow where my heart should be. You deserve better.

I often wonder how long you stayed there, gazing into the black water of the Thames, after I left. I didn't hear you return that night.

A sudden wave of nausea hits me as I realise that I never expected you to move on, never thought you had enough time left.

But here you are, eyes alight with affection for the only other person I've ever begun to care about. I've no choice but to step aside, and try to find comfort in knowing you're both better off without me.

Whatever you choose, I promise you one thing: when you are gone, I will return to Blackfriars Bridge, and put your words to rest.

The End.