The Lost Fairchild

Make up your mind

"What do we do?", I asked.

"We wait", he said simply.

Awkward silence held, and then I realised I was in fact in his room. He was probably waiting for me to leave.

Damn, my lack of social awareness would get me in some sort of trouble one day.

However, I must have misunderstood the mixed signals he sent, because I was stopped, as he quickly stood in front of the door. A frown plastered on his face. Arms folded for dramatic effect, of course.

"Alec?", I started.

"Where do you think you're going? It's not safe right now. You're staying here", he started.

But... Clary. I couldn't leave her to fend of some bloodsucking bandits, with the dumb vigilante named Jace who only looked for adventure first, safety second.

"I can't. Jace and Clary? Remember", I said.

He stiffened, but didn't budge.

"You are injured, Temp. As much as you think you'd be any kind of help, you are extremely mistaken. Weakness gets you killed", he stated.

"You care?", I teased, my brows lifting in mock surprised.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. It was fun poking the wound up grizzly bear that was Alec Lightwood. It was so satisfying pissing him off.

I retreated, and slumped down on his freakishly neat bed. It looked like he'd starched and steamed the damn sheets. Well, he overcompensated for everything, clearly.

He sat down next to me, awkwardly tapping his leg.

I kicked my muddy shoes on his bleached floor.

"Temp..", he warned.

My dirty jacket joined the collection, and I was suddenly tackled.

"Do not move", he warned.

I froze. I was having flashbacks. My foster parents... I started to violently thrash, and he instantly moved away.

"Temp.... It's alright. You're okay, with me... I'd never....", he started.

I stopped.

"I'm so sorry... I.... I don't want to talk about it", I said.

"There's no pressure. Remember that..", he said quietly, before shifting to the floor, I front of me, and nervously clasping my hands.

"It's just... I don't know... I've been through a lot of shit... trauma, baggage the lot. I don't want to... to burden someone with my bullshit", I said.

"You're not burdening me, you're enlightening me", he said.

"I... they were awful. They'd lock me in a storage closet for hours. That's why I hate tight spaces. I cannot even remember the amount of times I was pushed down that rickety oak staircase. Hence my fear of stairs", I said.

He just nodded, listening.

"Listen. We all struggle with our own trauma in different ways. I will never want to deliberately make you uncomfortable or hurt... we'll talk through everything", he said.

It was nice to feel heard. Typically my mind ran wild, the days blurred and I coped with my uncomfortableness alone. I was a tiny speck in this wide and vast universe looking for meaning and inspiration. We all get lost, but support is everywhere, if we choose to reach out for it.

So my response to Alec, was "I wouldn't have it any other way".