Never Let me Go

The Ice Center was closed, it's windows and benches left dormant for the Midnight of the summer solstice. At this time most at the peak of adolescence were either sleeping, or fool heartedly giving their souls to the rays of the moon at the midnight of a warm summer night. Outside the world was quiet, the wind soft and gentle, carrying with it it's lulling beauty of the crisp evening air. Yes, outside the world was restful after a long day's work of warmth and laughter, for some that it. Not a sound was heard, the world for once filled with the beauty of silence that so rarely ever sang, that is until a young girl walked into the Ice Center with a quiet determination. Her hair was a radiant red, the fire rippling through her hair like the wave of a flame, as if if you touched it you would burn away. Alone, the girl nimbly found the key she'd so easily found that was hidden in the gutter in emergency situations for the employees, and unlocked the door. Her heart was scored with the pain of disappointment, disgust, and disheartment. She'd never believed in herself, never trusted anyone to give her heart to, and not on any level allowed anyone to embrace her, hold her hand, or kiss her...

She was as alone as a rogue, and that's all she was to people, little did they know though was that she had such great talent that would one day overpower all of her fellow peers that so often discouraged her. No one had ever believed in her, not truly, not in the way that made an person feel warm. No, this girl only ever felt coldness inside, never able to reach down and find the warmth that helped such people smile, laugh... No, she liked it that way though, the loneliness kind to her with it's cradling silences that reminded her of the small gifts in life like silence that warmed the heart truly. But her heart wasn't the kind that warmed easily, and so she accepted loneliness with open arms just as she did the harsh cruelty that came with it. The barren stone walls didn't speak as the girl walked past a beaming vending machine, and into the rink's ring where spectators came and watched people turn, jump, and skate purely in joy. It was quiet now, not a sound of laughter echoing through the silent room.

Laughing, she thought suddenly, such a strange thing as to the fact I've never done so. She only wore a long trench coat that covered her to the knees draping around her like a long black veil as if she was mourning the death of a loved one, but she wasn't, she just liked the strange, the unnatural. She wore three layers of thin long socks, each one a pale purple that was ripped at the slim edge of the top that circled her knee comfortably, long strings of fabric following after still holding strongly onto the sock. She walked around the rink, the dark hardly alarming for her, for she lived for the dark that carried with it a deep lulling silence. Like the wind. The girl stopped at the small square white door that would lead her to the ice, lead her to the only thing that ever made her feel warm in any sense. She passed it instead though, afraid, and trekked her way over to a bench where she perched herself and leaned against the stone railing and played with the strings on the edge of her light cheap coat.

Meanwhile she didn't know that a boy had hidden in the arcade, underneath a larger machine that hid him just enough that kept him after hours away from the eyes of the searching employees. He peeked his head up suddenly, his eyes a beautiful blue like the mists that the ocean breeze usually carried on a low clouded day, and scoured the arcade with mystical eyes. Nothing, no one, perfect. He stretched himself from his hiding spot and pulled his hood up over his stringy blond hair that poured out and over his head perfectly straight, no curve, no curl, just straight like hay, the color a light almost bleached pale blonde. Lights still flashed on the screens of the games, boxes filled with toys still lined with bright white lights, the simulations of cars driving along the coast of Florida still going. He flicked an absent minded hand on the joystick of a claw game, and continued to walk forward and out of the Arcade out into the rink. The boy never slept, and that explained the small circles along the edge of his eyes that had begun to turn purple with tired sleepless nights. His hands had been pushed into his pockets, quite comfortable there, and his feet pulled him to the benches where he usually situated himself on nights like this.

But this time was different, and the boy's misty eyes caught on to a hunched shadowed form on the other side of the rink. At first he thought it was the shadows playing tricks on him but the light beaming form the arcade spoke a different story. Then he saw the radiant red hair and felt himself take in a sharp breathe. He had been caught, he thought instantly, but another thought occurred to him that reminded him if he'd been caught she'd have had backup. He took a cautious step closer to the stone railing and he saw her clearer than before. Her radiant red hair reminded him of the red scarlet color of a deep red rose, its beauty standing for passion and perfection. He could see her long nimble hands playing with the strings of her coat and he found himself smiling for once. The bags under his eyes lifted with the curl of his lips and for once he didn't look so unhappy. He suddenly found himself wanting to meet her, and before he could stop himself he'd begun to walk over to her, circling the rink over to her-

and stopped short, yards away from her, his heart yearning to learn her name. What if she ran? I mean she wouldn't be here unless she wanted to be alone? He took a step back, his eyes lingering on her hidden face that was cloaked by her red flame hair. Then an idea came to him like the sudden strike of lightning. He quietly padded his way over to the control booth in a silent jog finally coming to the small white box that stuck out and around the ice, the colored buttons that scored the board small and large, square and circle, and all other kinds of uniqueness that made the boy want to fidget with them and see what each of them did, but stopped himself, his mind on the task at hand. He thought back to the moments when he'd spied secretly on the rude husky stocking cap man that made his life mission to make sure the boy didn't see his buisness, and remembered which button to lift suddenly. His eyes searched the controls until his eyes finally rested on a small button about the size of a pinky nail. He made sure to press a small green button first before the other first that called on the small bursts of mist and fog, finding this certain trait to be luminous and yet mystifying as his blue gaze. It made him think of the sea of mists in books that held secrets, dangers, and foreboding death that made the reader keep going. Fog, he thought, will hopefully draw her out to him.

After waiting for a few minutes of boredom and anticipation he finally lifted the small button that commanded on lights at every side of the rink with a small grin. Spotlights had been set up, over, and around the rink but were never used. And so now, as their white flashes began to explore the walls and floor of the rink, the boy thought,

Let there be light.

He watched with excitement as the girl's head shot up, her hair lifting away from her face, and it was as if a veil was lifted. The boy gasped with a small puff of laughter. She was beautiful, he thought, purely beautiful. Her eyes were an illuminating green that was as bright as the stem of flowers, her face angular and thin but beautiful as if she was a rose herself, radiant and red like the blazing sun. Perfect in every way. Her hood fell back as well unleashing her red hair in a wave of flames that stuck out like a hurt thumb. He felt himself running before he'd taken full view of the situation, and over to her. The spotlights made the ice shine reflecting the lights, and the girl gasped as well, not even watching the boy. Her eyes followed the spotlights that traveled up and around the rink, lightening the room faintly, as if she was standing in the middle of a great stage. She immediately pushed herself out into the ice almost slipping on her old raggedy socks, wanting to feel it, to make sure it was real. It felt smooth and slick under her feet like what you'd imagine the ocean to feel like if you'd never touched it, which she hadn't.

She felt star struck by the ghost-like fog that drifted around her like lost souls searching for a friend. The lights were stationed in each direction, it's piercing white lights running around her, now and then blinding her bright green eyes causing her to raise a hand to her eyes to block it’s overpowering light. She was amazed and found herself suddenly smiling. She'd never smiled. The feeling of her lips curling in joy was almost painful but in a desirable way. Then she saw him suddenly walking to the small block like door. Saw him walk shyly out into the ice with his eyes down in old rugged white skates rimmed with it's sharp metal blade along the bottom. He seemed to balance on them as if he’d done this his whole life. She saw him begin to skate over to her slowly, the fog enveloping his feet, the lights making his pale blonder hair and mist blue eyes almost brighter. He looked like an angel forming from the shadows. She'd seen him once, at a School, a School where pain only existed. Where names were thrown and hatred was like a virus passing from one contagious victim to the next. She chose to immune herself to it though, but even now she knew who the boy was and felt her heart contract. She saw the bags under his eyes and felt a small twinge of pity for the boy who never slept.  The boy stopped a foot away, and in the girl’s heart for some reason she felt a small twinge of disappointment like the quick and poisoning pain of a bug bite, only to be replaced with confusion.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a voice so quiet it couldn't be heard by the dead, but the boy stopped her short and said in a voice so soft and silky the girl could have died.

"Don't ask. Just tell me what your name is?" his voice was almost desperate, colored with something hidden so deep even she couldn't dig deep enough to find what it was. His hands were at his sides but she could see they were long and callused, pianist fingers that would streak the black and white keys in a gentle beat like birds over water. He wore a leather black jacket that overlapped another gray jacket that peeked beneath the leather jacket, both zipped up partway. He looked ready for winter, she didn't. His eyes looked into hers like he could read each and every one of her fears, her desires, her wishes, like a book. His eyes reminded her of something you could only find in a book, so beautifully abnormal that if she had to describe it the words would be unheard of, foreign. His hair seemed to spring slightly from the moistness of the fog which had advanced around his legs like the hands of spirits, and hid her feet which she hoped he couldn't see were only covered by stupid purple socks that she'd spent 5 dollars on.

Her eyes accidentally lingered on his eyes, his angular chin, the boy’s eyelashes that shadowed his deep blue eyes like clouds blocking the sun. She realized with dawning realization that he was looking at her also, his eyes raking her face, her neck, her uncurved waist which she’d stood in front of a mirror hating every day. His eyes seemed to linger longest on her face though, and she flushed when she saw him continuously staring at her eyes, his own eyes soft like a cloud drifting by. As they both took each other’s features in for a long uncomfortable time her feet were being bit at by the numbing cold of the sleek ice she stood on, making her arms shiver slightly. A long silence stood still for what seemed like eternity, and the girl, who found silence to be relieving, found it at the time quite awkward. She didn't want to say anything to him, she wanted him to go away and leave her with her world of silence, but a part of her wanted him and his outspoken light and fog, and she opened her eyes for once.

"Clary.." she whispered hesitantly. He nodded and replied immediately with a hard voice that was transparent to his handsome looks,

"Jace." Now they knew each other, and now she wanted to go, and never see him again. She didn't want to be here with another person let alone a boy, she wanted to be alone, to stay with the dark and silence that cradled her gently. Yet something yearned to hold his hand, to touch his face, and to hear him say her name a million times.
"What do you think of all this?" he asked, and raised his hands up gesturing at the rink, the lights, and the fog that he had made just moments ago, for her. She held her mouth agape, unsure for a moment, unknown as to what to say. It was beautiful, daring, remarkable, and so many other things that jumped around her mind. Clary felt her body, toes to head, suddenly loathing being so far from him, from his incredible eyes that could drift her away from reality like a board on water. Something had taken ahold of her heart and she wanted his arms around her, too hear his voice in her ear, soft and warm. She could've said anything, she could’ve told him to leave and never come back, threaten to report him, or even just left herself, but instead she took a step closer, her feet numbing on the freezing smooth ice, and whispered,

"It’s beautiful." His eyes became tense at first in surprise, and she suddenly realized where she'd let herself open and immediately shut back in like the sudden slam of an open door on a windy day, "No wait, I'm sorry, I'm just-" she began to turn not bothering to finish her sentence, embarrassed and ashamed of her actions, her eyes already opening the small block door. She felt as if she was about to slip, but continued to sweep her way clumsily over to the door as best she could, and just as she was about to touch it’s white bordered stone she felt a hand circle her wrist. Clary’s heart stopped, the sudden rush of blood turning to ice along with her numbing feet, the ice in her veins turning to venom as he turned her back towards him, her feet sliding along. She wanted to scream, to pull away like a stubborn child who wanted candy from a store, sticking their feet in the ground as best as they could to do whatever they could to stay. Instead she turned with him to meet eyes of a hue of blue that made her heart speed to the rate unhealthy in the eyes of a doctor. His eyes were watching her as she turned slowly and let him pull her gently out into the ice with the scratching sound of blades on ice. Her eyes were hooked on his, unlatching, and she felt herself moving as if she was a ghost watching from afar. They came to the center of the rink, his eyes hopeful, the spark in his eyes lighting the blue to a flaming fire. Finally they stopped, and they were so close she could hear his heartbeat. She didn’t want to be this close, but yet the whole of her heart was so happy, jumping in joy. He held her wrist, and he traveled it down until they were palm in palm, hands joined together steadying her clumsy movements. Her feet were suddenly warm, as if the boy’s presence warmed her. He backed away a step, his hand still in hers, and she felt suddenly sad. Without thinking she pulled herself close to him, grateful for his warmth, his tender chest which moved with each breath.

“Who are you?” she whispered to him, her cheek on his chest where his heartbeat steadily, her breathe leaving white puffs of air next to his dark jacket. The fog had blanketed the entire rink now, hiding them from reality. He was about to respond when the light suddenly struck them in the eyes and she turned away, into his chest not next to. It was warmer than before, his heartbeat comforting like a lullaby. It was moments before she felt him draw her closer suddenly, his other hand that wasn’t holding hers around her back, his hand slowly entwining in hers tighter, holding her tenderly against him as if he’d lose her if she let go. She held on as well, not wanting to let go also, afraid. The light and the fog didn’t distract them as they began to slowly sway to unheard music. They were one soul now, one body, on heartbeat, one mind. Nothing separated them as they both swayed slowly, the lights traveling up and around the rink, up and down, the light coming and fading in the blink of an eye. The fog illuminated against the lights, and they both felt at peace with the silence, and instead of silence cradling the girl, Jace did.

“I’m the boy who never sleeps,” he said into her ear, making shivers run down her back. He placed his cheek on her forehead, the weight gentle but firm. She could hear the thump of his heart soft against his chest, and suddenly taking in their present position she suddenly drew back abruptly. His head shot up instantly, his eyes grim and sorrowful, worried and disappointed, an entire river full of emotion she couldn’t keep count. She steadied herself and swallowed deep, breathing hoarsely each breath taking more air than needed. Clary’s heart felt as if it was going to stop, the speed unbearable, and she felt suddenly lightheaded. After years of holding back, avoiding people, one boy, an unknown mysterious blue eyed boy was the only thing that broke down her barrier. How stupid I am, she thought, but she knew that part of her was wrong. She felt trustful of the boy, trustful of his gentle touch, of his outstanding choice of actions, of his eyes, everything.

“Clary, please,” he said her name as if he’d said it a million times. He didn’t hold back and she let him as he gripped her hand again, and gave her the distance she wished. They began to sweep in and out, her trouble fading into joy. She found herself smiling again as he pulled her in and out, the ice making her slide into him and away from him. Clary felt like she was on a swing, each time the wind blowing on her face as she went forward and then her hair retracting into her face as she swung back. The boy laughed, the sound soft like falling snow, the very harmony of his voice making her smile. His eyes ran over her entire body softly, making her face turn a bright red, and she was ungrateful for the bright lights that would so evidently show her red splotches that seemed to splash on her face.

She watched his eyes run over her as she would sweep in, and then snap to her eyes when she went out. They began to spin and sweep, the task difficult for Clary with her ragged purple socks for skates. At one point she felt her feet almost slip back but Jace caught her, his arm holding her neck, his other hand around her waist. She felt his breathe again, warm and moist against her face. Something in her, she didn’t know what, pushed her to pull into him again. She was trusting once again, her heart filled with the overbearing warmth of his body. It emanated from him in kind doting waves, and she held herself against his chest, his chin situated on her head. Their feet continued to move back and forth, and she closed her eyes, lulling her heart to just wake up and prove to her she was sleeping. But she never did, and with every doubt in his mind screaming at him to not do it, he raised his head, lowered it slightly, and gave her a sweet and soft kiss on her forehead. It was so soft, and so kind, that she yearned for more of the rare kindness, and she suddenly raised her own head at his own touch. Their noses traced each other softly and they both felt their hearts skid and jump, and she whispered to him,

“Never let me go,” his eyes softened to a gentle ripple of blue, and with another blissful kiss on her head he whispered back,

“I won’t.”