#clizzyweek

It’s her. A sketch of Izzy’s hair flowing down her back over the familiar criss-cross straps of her favorite dress, a painting of a knife sticking out of a pair of heeled boots, and another of her smiling at one of the tables in the cafeteria. She flips the page and finds more drawings of her, a dress that ends just before a thigh holster, the trail of runes along her exposed skin… 

She stops, stunned, at two pages done in watercolors: for a girl with black hair and an almost entirely black wardrobe, Izzy has no idea how Clary managed to make her seem to glow on the pages she holds. 

“Did you find something to--” Clary’s voice stops abruptly as she steps into the room and sees what Izzy’s holding. 

“Oh my god,” Clary mutters, a flush spreading fast and fiercely across her cheeks and down her neck. “I forgot that was back there. I’m so sorry, you were never supposed to see those.” 

Izzy wants to see more but doesn’t dare turn another page after seeing Clary’s reaction and realizing her mistake. “I shouldn’t have looked in it,” she says, holding it out to Clary, but Clary doesn’t move toward her to take it back so Isabelle places it down on the bed instead.

“No, I never should’ve drawn them,” Clary insists. “I overstepped. It wasn’t my place to, but you’re just so beautiful and-  and now I’m making everything awkward… I should go.” 

It takes a few seconds for Isabelle to realize why Clary’s reaction the way she is, all flustered and flushed, rambling like Simon does whenever he’s around a girl he-- oh. Oh.  That’s when it all clicks into place, the paintings, the fact that Clary hid them, that she’s been watching Izzy from afar, practically studying her… 

“Clary, wait!” Izzy stops her just as she reaches the doorway. She thought it was just art, that she was just another subject for Clary, until now. Now that she realizes she can’t believe she didn’t see it sooner. Now she can only hope she didn’t realize it too late. “I don’t want you to go.” 

“...you don’t?” Clary asks cautiously, hesitating. 

“And nothing is awkward. At least, it doesn’t have to be,” Izzy says before adding much quieter. “I like you, too.” 

Clary sucks in a breath at that statement, closing her eyes slowly before opening them again, half-expecting Izzy to not be there again when she did. “Don’t say it just to be nice,” Clary says, lifting her chin up. 

“I’m not,” Izzy promises. “You’re amazing, Clary. Anyone would have to be blind not to notice. And these paintings and sketches are gorgeous,” she adds for good measure.