Chapter Text
“I thought you were dead.” Was the first thing that Clary blurts out after opening the door to reveal Sebastian, dressed as if returning from some trip far away. From hell, maybe. She couldn’t remember, mind a haze of sleep.
He just gave her a shit-eating grin, passing through her as she motioned to let him in. Clary was just baffled - what Sebastian was doing on her house? Why was he acting as if everything was normal? Why wasn’t he dead?
“Don’t answer a girl’s texts for three days and there’s already a funeral planned for you.” He answered, putting his bag on the floor. His green - not black, but green as hers were - eyes glinted at her, the faintest hint of mischief in them. “Don’t worry, Clarissa. You had a nightmare.”
She relaxed. It makes sense. Yeah, maybe Clary dreamed the whole thing. After all, demons and its hunters didn’t exist beyond the realm of fantasy. It was a simple dream: nothing to worry about.
Sebastian went to the kitchen, and Clary followed him a moment later, reminding herself she wasn’t asleep anymore, she was awake and Sebastian was alive. She found something on the table, wrapped in colorful gift wrapping. Her brother was quietly watching, as the smell of coffee filled her nostrils. She didn’t see him carrying that; maybe she was still half dreaming. Clary tried to blink herself awake, and Sebastian chuckled behind her. Hell, she needed coffee, stat.
“I’m making for you, too.” He said, as if reading her mind, and Clary sat on the table, feet dangling off the floor, suddenly aware of her shorts and shirt, holey, old, comfortable. Sebastian didn’t seem to notice it, and if he does, he didn’t seem to care about it. Gesturing to the package at her side, he gave her a wry smile. “Open it. It’s your Christmas gift, but I’m sure mom and dad won’t mind you open it early.”
Was it Christmas already? Fuck, Clary needed coffee. She couldn’t even remember what day of the week it was. Clary looked at the package, a bright red ribbon shining in the early light that spilled through the kitchen window, and plucked it out carefully, setting it aside before ripping the wrapping carelessly.
Meanwhile, Sebastian (Where that nickname had come from, anyway? She couldn’t remember a lot, not in that weird sleep haze she was under) just chuckled, serving the hot beverage in mugs, and she could hear his smile when Clary saw the five brushes in a small plastic case, painted flowers decorating it.
“The finest brushes money could buy.” He said, closing the small space that separated them, putting the mug by her side and taking a sip from his. Clary opened the case and touched them, quietly marveling at how perfect they already seemed, soft and perfect. “What do you think?”
“They’re great!” Clary answered, turning back to Sebastian, who seemed closer than necessary. She smiled softly and picked the ribbon, putting it on him. “You’re a gift to me, Sebastian.”
He smiled and put his mug away, touching her face with reverent fingers, almost as if Clary was something so fragile a mere touch could break. Sebastian’s face approached hers, and warmth spread through her face.
“Aren’t I now, Clarissa?” He whispered, and Sebastian closed the space between them, kissing softly her lips - and then hungrily, like she was the last drop of water in the desert.
She reciprocated - she had missed him so much and this was so wrong, but she could not bring herself to care, not with the way Sebastian’s fingers threaded through her hair, not with how his body felt against hers. His free hand was playing with the hem of her ratty shirt, and she let her hands secure themselves in his arms. His hand in her shirt went north, and then he -
Someone knocked on the door, and Clary’s eyes shot up, looking into Sebastian’s suddenly black ones. She tried to back away, but he kept her firmly in place.
“Seems like our time together is over, Clarissa.” He said, his face full of the angles she had known, not anymore the sweet boy she was dreaming of. The sweet boy who could’ve been her brother.
The door opened itself, and Clary woke up, sitting upright in a flurry, heart beating wildly in her chest. Her mother looked at her, a frown marring her face.
“Are you alright, Clary?” She asked, and Clary nodded quietly, pulling the covers up, cocooning herself inside. “Are you sure? I tried calling you, but you wouldn’t wake up.”
“Yeah, sorry. Rough night.” She answered, voice quiet because she didn’t trust herself. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
Her mom watched her for a second too long, waiting for something, and then nodded, closing the door. Clary sighed, passed a hair through her hair, and kicked the covers to the floor, deciding on what to do today - until something hard hit the floor and made her pause.
She went over the heap of blankets on the ground and peered cautiously, finding the small plastic case with flowers she saw in her dream. Clary’s head felt dizzy as she opened it, touching the brushes, and they felt exactly the same as in her dream. She choked a bitter laugh in her throat, and with careful fingers, she threw it under the bed. Clary would not deal with that can of worms.