#claryizzy

Clary had been sitting on the couch for a number of hours that she couldn’t really define. Netflix was playing Supernatural, and she was just binge watching it, using it as a background noise to distract her mind.

She let her hands roam over the paper of her notepad, charcoal pencil in hand as she traced shapes she wasn’t paying attention too, just to busy her mind, and keep her fingers sharp. She was drawing the beautiful features of one of the leads of the show, Jensen Ackles.

It wasn’t the first time she drew him today, if the small pile of sketches on her right meant anything. It just kept her comfortable and busy.

Today was not the best of days. The side effects of the anti-depressants she was taking, effexor, varied depending the day and the time of the month, but today was just a bad day. She’d had a terrible headache all morning, and now she was just alternating between states of perfectly okay and needing to puke her guts immediately. Good thing that Fridays were Clary’s “free day” where she had no classes.

The drug had changed her life, still. She hadn’t had a deeply depressive episode in… months. She hadn’t had suicidal thoughts since then either. She was doing great. She had a loving girlfriend, and a balanced life. She just needed to take two pills a day, but it wasn’t much of a sacrifice.

Izzy helped, for sure. She was a sunshine in Clary’s life, a bright, beautiful sunshine, and she did help when Clary was feeling a little less motivated. She was there when Clary missed a dose and felt like she was dying.

She was there when Clary puked every hour for a day, until it hurt to even think about rushing to the bathroom again. She was there when Clary’s libido was so high that she couldn’t really imagine getting out of bed and dressed and doing something else.

Yes, Clary was happier now. More alive.

She was putting the last touches to the strands that fell over Jensen’s eyes, when the door opened. Izzy’s heels clicked on the floor, and her bag hit the chair not far from the couch. In a second, Izzy’s arms were wrapped around Clary’s shoulder and the other woman was pressing a kiss on her forehead.

“Stop hurting my girlfriend, you prick.” She muttered with a chuckle at the headache Clary had texted her about in the morning.

“How was class?” Clary asked as Izzy let her go and settled down next to her, taking the sketches and going through them.

“It was Spanish. I got the best grade of the class.” Izzy chuckled, both humble and completely not. Clary grinned.

“Isn’t taking Spanish cheating? You were fluent by the time you were in kindergarten.”

Izzy rolled her eyes and settled on one of the drawings of Misha Collins, another actor from Supernatural. “This man is way too pretty for his own good.” She muttered.

Clary chuckled. She loved Isabelle deeply. Izzy was insane, gorgeous, and one of the most intelligent people Clary had ever met. She was currently in the senior year of her Biology Bachelor’s degree, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she would get into medical school without a single problem.

Clary was re-taking her sophomore year at Brooklyn’s Academy of Art this year. She was happy about it, really happy about going back to class, now that she felt… happier.

They stayed on the couch for a while, making small talk as Izzy chatted about her latest classes, paperworks and grades. Clary listened and shared her own new projects, and they settled back on Supernatural.

The hunters were walking through a dark room, flashlights out and looking around, waiting for the next jumpscare when the light flashed and a sudden rush of air touched Clary. She almost jumped off the couch, tense and looking at the goosebumps on her arms.

The mug of tea that was on the coffee table spilled over as her leg bumped into it.

“Fuck.” She grumbled.

Izzy was looking at her with surprise, surprise that quickly changed into a bit of worry. “Did you injure yourself?” She asked.

Clary shook her head. She was fine. She’d just freaked out completely because of the goddamn tense music and because of the jumpscare she was suspecting. It had just been some wind.

“What happened?” Izzy pressed a little.

“Wind.”

The slightly puzzled expression on her girlfriend’s face made Clary sigh and sink into the couch again. Izzy grabbed a sponge to get the tea off of the table, and a cloth for the rug.

Clary knew it was just the pills and their side-effects. It happened. But every time, she had those couple of seconds where she just… thought the window was open.

That was a side-effect she always felt terrible about. It made her think she saw, heard or felt things that didn’t exist. It sometimes made her feel like she was going a little insane. But no. It was just… brain chemistry mishaps, just like Izzy always said when they cuddled in bed.

Just like the libido changes. It was just stuff Clary lived with now. A quite small price to pay, when she realized how good she felt now. How… it was better, and sunnier, like this. Yes, there were days where she had chills, over and over for no reason.

The good days, so many of them spent at school, or going out for a drink with Izzy, Simon - her childhood best friend - , Maia - his girlfriend - , Alec - Izzy’s brother - , and Alec’s fiancé, Magnus. They had fun, they went dancing.

It was far from perfect. It was… better than before though. Much better. It was the first step, really. She could do things, she could function and the world felt a little easier. It didn’t feel amazing, but it felt better.

Alexander, her eldest brother,  was likely to end up with Aline Penhallow, or maybe Lady Lydia, since she was starting to be pushed into remarrying. Her husband had died less than a year ago.

Jace, would be wed to Clarissa, the eldest child of Lady Jocelyn Fairchild, and Lord Valentine Morgenstern.

Herself, Isabelle, would probably marry the second child of Lady Fairchild, a man named Jonathan that was younger than her, and quite distasteful. Though Jace and him shared similarities, even Jace’s behavior was not comparable to Jonathan’s.

Isabelle wanted to scream. She watched, as Jace led Clarissa in such a awkward manner, standing next to the champagne cups. She would have made a scene if she didn’t know what kind of punishment would await her.

As she was reaching for yet another cup, Clarissa’s brother walked towards her. She smiled as much as she could. She wished he would leave her alone, but she was not this lucky.

“May I offer you this dance, Miss Isabelle?” He asked. His eyes were chestnut, just slightly far from Clarissa’s more green hazel, and yet close enough that Isabelle hated him more. She desired to dance only with the woman she loved, not anyone else, and not her brother.

Isabelle felt the eyes of her mother on her, and so she accepted the offer.

“Have you been enjoying the ball?” Jonathan asked, as they waited for the next dance to start.

Isabelle put her best fake smile back on. “Quite. So many interesting people here tonight.” Her eyes followed Clarissa again. She wanted to be the one holding her close.

Jonathan nodded. “Indeed. Have you seen the… foreigner?” He pointed out, nodding in the direction of a tall, Asian man who was standing on the other side of the room, engrossed in a conversation with Alexander.

Alexander, who looked like he was actually enjoying himself, his smile quite relaxed, compared to how Isabelle usually saw him. His smile dropped when the last notes of the current dance resounded.

Jonathan led Isabelle to the dancefloor, as Clarissa and Jace remained there, and a tight-shouldered Alexander guided Lady Lydia to their side. A fourth couple, that Isabelle didn’t really pay attention to, joined them in the quadrille.

Jonathan kept her tightly held against him, and she disliked it greatly. His breath smelled like alcohol. It was greatly inappropriate, but it was also her future husband, and she doubted her mother would make a scene and keep him from holding her that way.

Clarissa’s eyes caught hers and they exchanged a look. A long, sad look. Isabelle wanted to revolt, but all she could do was sigh as Jonathan led her into a dance she didn’t want to be dancing. At least, maybe with time, she could have the possible to love him… or be attracted to him. Clarissa only liked women.

It kept going for a time. Dances after dances, and stealing glances at each other. How beautiful Clarissa looked in her pale pink dress, how Isabelle wanted to lick at every inch of her skin, take off the gloves and the pins in her hair, and take her to bed, and make love to her, there, claim her again as hers, and only hers.

After hours, where the clock struck, Clarissa managed to get from her mother the permission to spend the night at the Lightwood Manor. No matter if Lady Jocelyn thought her daughter wanted to spend more time with her suitor, she accepted still, at the condition she would always have Isabelle in the room with her. There would be no nocturnal visits from Jace, as to take an advance on the wedding night.

Isabelle grabbed Clarissa’s hand the second they got permission to leave the room. She walked up the stairs, grabbing at her skirt and pulling Clarissa with her until her bedroom door was closed, locked and she could kiss her with the strength of desperation.

“I love you.” She whispered, in between heated kisses. “I can’t lose you.”

“Isabelle, I am not leave you, my love.” Clarissa replied, holding her close. “You have been acting strange all evening. What is happening?” She asked, as she looked up at Isabelle, cupping her cheek.

Isabelle felt her heart in her throat, and tears well up in her eyes. In the recent dreams of the future, she had imagined being with Clarissa forever. In a manor, or a small cottage, waking up next to each other every morning. Living together, like any other couple. Married to each other, in any way but the law’s way, because the law would never allow for them to be wed.

She imagined them reading poetry, laying on the grass, in the garden of a beautiful house in the countryside, laughing, and smiling, cutting the game pie they would have made together in their small kitchen.

She didn’t imagine seeing Clarissa sitting on the other side of a dinner table, Jace by her side, pregnant with his child, while she was pregnant with Jonathan’s. She didn’t imagine the separate bedrooms, and Jonathan’s alcoholic tendencies carried to their intimate intercourse, in the middle of the night.

Isabelle did not want to be Lady Jonathan Morgenstern. She did not want to Clarissa to be Lady Jonathan Christopher Lightwood.

“Our parents want us to marry. You will marry Jace and I will marry Jonathan, and we shall never be happy together.” She finally explained, and saw the sadness and the tears in her lover’s eyes.

Clarissa held her tighter, and buried her head against Isabelle’s chest. Isabelle caressed her hair. “I’m sorry, my love, i’m so sorry.” She whispered, and gently moved them to the bedroom.