Hi guys! So, this is kind of random. I know that. But, last night, I could not sleep. I just…couldn't. Was I tired? Yes, very much. But I couldn't sleep, and I was bored. And then I got this idea and wrote it on a notebook. And then I took some pills and fell asleep.
My beta has not read this, and she is probably going to freak out because I didn't send it to her. I hope there are no mistakes :P I hope you like it. It's a one-shot, by the way. And it's not very long, but…whatever.
Enjoy and review!
_

Clary Fray stands in front of her mirror, biting her lip. She glances at the flowers that lie on her desk, the red tulips that are waiting to be picked up. She's wearing the same outfit she wears every Saturday: a black hoodie over a black t-shirt, black jeans, and black converse.

Most seventeen year old girls spend their Saturdays going to the mall or going on dates. Not Clary. Every Saturday, she wakes up at noon, dresses up, and goes to the cemetery. Her mom leaves her some breakfast.

"I don't like you going out there with an empty stomach," Jocelyn told her once, and she's left her something ever since. She works on Saturdays, so she wakes up bright and early to go to her art store.

Clary inspects herself one last time. Her red curls barely reach her shoulders—her mother had insisted on a haircut, and Clary had been too tired to argue. You look fine, she tells herself. Without one last glance, she takes her black bag—she refused to call it a purse—and picks up the flowers. She scans the room to see if she's missing anything. Nope. She closes the door and goes down the stairs.

Her mother left her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She takes it with one hand and shoves it into her bag. I'll eat it on the way there, she promises silently. She takes her home keys and heads out the door.

It's a bright, sunny July day in New York City. Clary tries to forget what she was doing in a day like this last year, but it's no use. Once the memories start playing in her head, she can't just hit stop and continue them later. They keep playing, like something that just can't be controlled, and she just walks to the cemetery every Saturday and remembers every detail of last summer.

The walk to the cemetery isn't too long. It's less than mile, and Clary likes to walk now. She hasn't ridden in a car since last summer.

She takes her sandwich out, bites it, and allows her memories to play inside her head. She's back in summer 2007, the summer her life changed. Last summer, the Lightwoods came to stay in New York for the summer. Clary still doesn't know why Jace talked to her back then, besides the time that she met him. The conversation there was kind of…inevitable.

Simon's band was playing that night. The summer had just begun, and the band had decided to try out a new name. They called themselves Millennium Lint, and it seemed to work for them.

It was their first show in a long time, and Simon begged her to go. "Please," he insisted. "It'll suck if you don't go."

"It'll suck anyway," she said, but then she sighed. It was Simon. She couldn't say no. "Okay."

So there she sat, alone in a table, minding her own business. The band was about to go on. Simon kept sending her text messages telling her that they were about to go on. She was happy for him.

She sent him a text—if you don't see me, I'm getting a drink, it said—and decided to get a drink. So she stood up—

—and ran into a blond haired hottie.

"I'm s-s-sorry," she stuttered, mortified. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," the guy said, interrupting her babble. He was grinning, amused. Clary narrowed her eyes. "So, you're here all alone?"

"I'm not," she snapped.

"I'm sorry," he said, but she could tell he didn't mean it. "I'm Jace."

She sighed. She didn't want to give him her name. But she did anyway. "I'm Clary."

That was how it all started.

They saw each other practically everywhere after they met. And then Jace asked her out. She'd said no at first, but she got to know him and eventually gave in. They talked, got to know each other, joked around…and fell in love. They laughed and cried and argued and kissed, but they fell in love in the summer. It wasn't hard to fall in love with Jace. He had his issues, the ones he was hesitant to talk about. But he fell in love with her and told her anyway. He told her everything about him—how his parents had both died in a car accident, and the Lightwoods were family friends, so he'd lived with them since he was ten. It was sad, his story.

She knew he had to leave. He was only there for the summer, after all. As the summer came closer and closer to an end, the more Clary worried about her relationship with Jace. They were in love, but he was leaving. And she didn't want him to leave. She wanted him by her side. She didn't want to stop seeing him. She wanted to keep seeing him and kissing him and just being with him. But it couldn't be like that.

Three nights before he had to leave, he stayed overnight at her house.

"Mom's not in town," Clary explained. It had been her idea. "So don't worry. Come in."

"Clary—" Jace started to argue, but Clary cut him off with a kiss.

"No." She took his hand and led him inside. "Jace, you're leaving in three days. Stay with me."

"We won't do anything," Jace warned. Clary blushed and nodded. She took his hand and led him to her room. Her hands were shaking slightly. She'd never had a boy over—but, then again, she'd never had a boyfriend before.

"I'm gonna go change." She grabbed her pajamas and retreated to the bathroom. When she came out, Jace was looking at her, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"You don't look so bad." She sat in his lap and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Jace," Clary said, suddenly very serious. "What'll happen when you leave?"

"Clary Fray," Jace said without hesitation. "I'll think about you every day. And I'll come visit on the holidays. And call. And Skype. It'll be okay."

"Jace, we'll be far away. You'll be in California!"

"And you'll be here."

"Yeah," she said. "So, how will we make sure this'll work?"

That was the moment she'd been waiting for all summer. The moment Jace Wayland, the cocky-but-sweet boy she fell in love with, looked at her in the eye, kissed her softly, and said, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Clary kissed him over and over as if he might disappear. She was crying tears of joy and sadness and of everything. She was his.

The day before Jace was leaving, he called Clary. "I'm on the way," he said on the other side of the phone.

"I'll be waiting," she replied without hesitation, and then she hung up. She was confused, though. Hadn't they already said goodbye? But she wanted to see him again, too. So she waited.

But she never saw him again. She stayed there, waiting for hours, but he never came. Four hours later, she got the call from Isabelle.

"He was in a car accident," Isabelle told her, sobbing. "He didn't make it." The other girl let out a strangled cry from the other side of the phone.

Clary didn't hear anything after that. She felt numb, as if someone had ripped out everything inside her and left only a shell. Jace was dead. No, she thought. He was supposed to come here and see me, and this wasn't supposed to end.

He didn't make it.

She had fallen in love with the boy with blond hair and gold eyes. They were in love and young and they had a whole life to live. It wasn't supposed to end like this. They were supposed to grow up, grow old, and die. Together.

But, sometimes, no matter how much you want something, it doesn't happen. It's what people told Clary everywhere—at the hospital, at the funeral, and everywhere else. She didn't believe something like that could just…happen. Jace wasn't just someone she wanted. He wasn't just some random boy who made her feel pretty. He was the guy that loved her. She wanted their relationship more than anything. But she didn't just want it. She needed it.

And she couldn't have it.

She gets to Jace's grave. She kneels down and shuts her eyes.

"I miss you," she says, tears falling from her cheeks. "And I love you so much. You'll always be the one." Her voice is filled with pain and sorrow.

She kisses the flowers and places them in the grave. The red stands out against the pale gray of the grave, and she feels as if she might lose it.

I can't, she thought. Not here.

"See you next week," she says. She stands up slowly and walks away.

_
Thanks to my beta, MagicWeMade. Because she's awesome and she only has ONE MORE CHAPTER to edit and the fanfic is done. OMG. It's very, uh, sad. Really. So, yeah. Go check her out!
Also, thanks to MaxWaylandGrey. Thanks to her, I know what my children are gonna be named! Hahahaha She's an awesome writer and a great (and very funny) person. Check out her stories!
And yes. I had to write sweet Jace. I don't know why. And I like killing of characters at times.