The Last Hours: Chain Of Thorns

Chapter 02

Chapter 02:

A Room's Conversation

It had been two hours since James had stormed out of the training room. He now sat in his own bedroom, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had stripped off his black Shadowhunter training gear in favour for a loose white shirt and black trousers. A book was placed in his lap and his eyes skimmed the pages, thoughtfully.

James' bedroom was neat and tidy, much unlike what his father's had been years ago before James had been born. Before he had met Tessa, his soon to be wife.

James had always thought of his parents as the prime example of love. He had never seen them truly angry at each other. Sure, they had bickered many times before, but they had always made up a day or two later, at the most.

Because of the love, James had been raised in a loving home, where there was almost absolutely no hate.

That was a good thing, yet it was also so bad at the same time...

A knock sounded off at James' bedroom's door. James jumped off of his four poster bed that was shoved into a corner of the room and walked over to the door. He laid his hand of the brass doorknob, twisted and pulled slightly, so the door only opened a crack.

Outside was a young man, the same age as James, seventeen. The man was leaning against the doorway and, as the door opened a crack, pushed himself inside once he saw James, who backed up at the sight of his parabatai, Matthew Fairchild.

Matthew was a tall boy, the top of his head slightly higher than James' own. His brown, tinted with green, eyes glimmered with happiness at the sight if James. He tipped his head and smiled at his parabatai, making blond bangs fall onto his forehead. He brushed them away once he straightened himself, tugging at the collar of his jacket a little.

"Hello." Matthew said, still smiling as he walked over and dropped himself onto James' bed, crossing one of his legs over the other. He put one hand behind his head and stared at the high ceiling.

James came over and sat down on the edge of his bed, beside Matthew.

Some people might've thought Matthew being in James' bed was weird, but to James it didn't feel weird that Matthew was in his bed; it never did. The two boys were parabatai, meaning they were closer than family could ever be, meaning almost nothing was weird between them.

"Hello." James said back, reaching for the book he had thrown onto his bed to get the door. As his fingers brushed the cover, Matthew snatched it up, away from James.

He held it above his face and read name of the book on the cover. "A Tale Of Two Cities?" Matthew looked at James quizzically. "Not your usual kind of reading material."

"My parents talk about the book all the time." James explained. "They like it a lot."

"No, they love it." Matthew smiled wider. "You know that as much as I do."

James smiled, something he rarely did. Lately, it seemed that only Matthew could make the grin appear on his face, but that was understandable, given their bond.

"I thought I would give it a try." James snagged the book out of Matthew's hand and drew it up against his chest.

Matthew sighed just before the smile disappeared from his face and a more serious look came upon it.

"I heard your family is going to be hosting the Enclave's Easter party this Sunday." Matthew said, and James thought back to hearing his father talk about the Blackthorns. He knew that his father thought he was asking about Tatiana, but he was wrong.

"Yeah." James muttered, looking down at the floor. His bare feet swung in the air above it.

"I also heard," Matthew continued, "that you asked if the Blackthorns would be attending."

"And who exactly told you that?" James questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Your mother. And your sister, before she left to go see Cordelia."

The thought of Cordelia sparked a distant thought of happiness in James' brain, but he shoved the thought and feeling that came with it away. "So why do you care?"

"Why do I care?" Matthew sat up and looked directly into James' eyes. "You're my parabatai, Jamie. I'm practically forced to care." He laughed, his eyes crinkling.

"Yeah." James muttered again. He dropped the book he had been holding into his lap as his mind whizzed back in time.

James was fourteen. He had his arms wrapped around a fair haired girl he knew as Grace Blackthorn.

She placed her hands on his shoulders as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I love you."

The smile that grew onto her lips was wicked. "Yes."

James was then fifteen. He watched as Grace turned away from him and walked away, her blue skirts bouncing. Tears stained James' face.

James then sat in his bedroom, stubble grown onto his chin. He held a thin, sharp blade in his dominate hand; his left one. He placed the tip of the blade against his right wrist-

"James." Matthew snapped his fingers into front of James' eyes, shocking him back to reality.

"Sorry." James shook his head. "I got carried away, thinking about-"

"Her." Matthew cut in. James was about to open his mouth to deny Matthew's guess, but his parabatai held up a hand, silencing him. "Don't try to lie, James. I can easily tell when you do."

James sighed.

"I can also tell," Matthew went on, "when you think about her. Your eyes glaze over and you get this distant look on your face, like you're trying to remember something pleasant. And Grace Blackthorn definitely isn't pleasant, so I don't know why you get the look."

"I wish I had the damnedest idea why I get that look." James shook his head before getting to his feet, tossing the book back so it landed beside Matthew's head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, leaning up.

James took off his glasses, blurring his vision slightly. He placed them on the cleanly polished wooden desk in another corner of the room and looked at Matthew over his shoulder. "I'm going to go for a stroll. Would you like to come?"

Matthew grinned again and got to his feet. "I would be delighted."