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chapter forty-seven. . . the presence of the dead
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JACE HADN'T ONCE taken his eyes off of Malia. He had found it hard to comprehend that she was real and coming back from the dead didn't carry darkness with her. But it did carry a price, where she was linked with Jonathan alongside Clary. The thing was, Jace was able to hold her, able to get more time with her, hopefully a lifetime until they're wrinkled and grey. Jace was going to have the life he had wanted from her, the moment where he had known that she was the one and could no longer imagine life without her.
Her room had been untouched, when she had returned. It had empty boxes piled into the corner as Clary nor Jace had the thought of putting it into a box with thought of her never coming back. Malia's room was still her room and she was going to be sleeping in the bed where she hadn't slept in a while.
Jace had followed her around like a lost puppy. He hovered outside her bathroom as she bathed and changed into her clothes that fitted her best. A red floral dress covered her figure as tights covered her pale legs which her knee high boots sat on top of. When Malia had been examined, Jace refused to leave her side, wanting to know that she was okay, and she was perfectly fine. He had been thinking what to say, how to say it but he wasn't so sure how to form the words as he walked alongside the banshee through the Institute to the Ops Centre.
All Jace could've done in the moment of them walking through the Ops Centre was intertwine their fingers with each other. It was warm and comforting for Malia and was what she needed when she came to face her best friend who had been trying to comprehend what he had been seeing. He had been thought for days that he had killed Clary Fairchild but she stood before him in one piece, hardly hurt.
"Am I dreaming?" Simon had questioned as he had allowed Isabelle to embrace Clary into a hug.
Malia had missed both Simon and Isabelle, she missed being around them, being to talk to them. She missed her best friend's jokes and the optimism he carried and which she sorely lacked. She missed the way Isabelle loved her as if she was actually her sister. Malia had missed them.
"I really hope you're not dreaming right now, Simon." Malia voiced. It was familiar, deeper but he knew he could never the forget the vice even if he had tried. The brunette stood before him, chewing on the bottom of his lips as he narrowed on the Bellerose who had shifted nervously on her feet as her hand slipped away from Jace. "It would ruin this moment if you were dreaming."
Simon's brows knitted together in confusion before his eyes narrowed to focus his look on Malia who held out her arms awaiting the hugs she had missed from the vampire. "Malia?" He hadn't thought of the vampire speed he carried, but he used it anyway to wrap his arms around her. Her head immediately nestling into the crook of his neck as her eyes flutter close to be familiar once again with the hugs Simon owned. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"
