He took a small piece of the chocolate in his hands, examining it with his glare before he put it in his mouth, the sweet taste of butter and sugar filling his every taste bud (smaakpupil). His eyes seemed to melt just as much as the sweet on his tongue, before he slowly chuckled.

He could feel her staring, with every inch of his body. Their hands together, his cold and distant, hers warm and caring. He was so afraid to hold her hand, but once her fingers calmed, and they lay still in his, he told himself that nothing would happen if he would just hold her back.

So, he did.

His hands, made for killing and torture, were actually holding someone in a loving way, in a way to show her he cared, that he thought she was different. He would have never done this, but she found his one weak spot, on the one moment he had laid his guards down.

Because he felt guilty. Anyone could make him do the strangest of things when he felt guilty. She hadn't realised that so far, but she was about to figure it out, the mystery of the Lightwood, the story he held hidden so well, an open book for her to read. She never told him, since he was so beautiful once he expressed his feelings, thinking he hid them so perfectly.

She looked up, the sun on her face, the rain of yellow covering her emerald eyes. She opened them, slightly groaning once the light blinded her, yet what she saw that very moment, was worth everything. In the corner of her eye, somewhere she never dared to look, shone that gigantic yellow circle in the sky.

She squeezed his hand once she saw the sun. She rarely had a filled sky, whether it was with stars or the sun. She could never see them, unless, unless...

Dèlia looked almost frightened, but she couldn't bring herself to stand up, she couldn't push herself to move even a fraction away from the light. She closed her orbs in pure joy, feeling the warmth engulf her as if she was being taken by the water of an aggressive sea.

That was all she ever wished for.

A filled sky, hand in hand, seeing something she didn't see as often as she wanted to. The sun, given by those who thought they were more important, and so making it impossible for demon-blooded creatures to ever see it. She thought it was cruel, even for them, to rob someone of something so beautiful, so perfect and illuminating.

Once she opened them again, and the sun still hadn't gone. She expected it to have vanished, like a hallucination in her head, a message, a reminder for her torment, the gods mocking her again, until they expected her to not bare it anymore. They hadn't learned in the last centuries, had they?

The door leading to the little bench where the two almost complete strangest sat, opened, revealing two golden eyes coming from the shadows, a blond streak of hair falling in his face, a smirk making him look arrogant, mocking, all only a mask to hide the happiness he felt.

He had never seen his closest friend with a girl like this, hands intertwined, not talking, only sitting and waiting for time to take them again. He wished he could look at them and smile for another minute or so, but the killer was trained to hear the slightest of noises, so he turned his head in surprise.

He was so shy, Alexander Lightwood, once a little boy who had only ever talked to one girl: his own sister. He didn't know how to talk, let alone have physical contact with anyone who wasn't male, meaning that seeing the two of them ever so peaceful, was like a paradox.

She had lead many different men to their defeat, their last supper, their grande bataille. But no one had proven himself as worthy for the walk as the blue-eyed boy, showing he had wit, a heart, but a mind as sharp as the knives he carried and the remarks he sometimes dared to make in private.

"Jace, something wrong?" he asked, his hand slipping from hers. And just like that, the sun disappeared, not even slow enough for her to say goodbye, to ask it if they could meet again someday, it vanished like a snap, as quick as his hand let go of hers.

Worry was in his voice, an ancient concern she knew had always been there since the blond had walked into his life and made it his, partly. They were connected, in a way only their kind could be, but even Jace sometimes felt like he shouldn't be the only one who had access to Alec's heart.

"No. I was just looking for you. The other Downworlders are leaving, I thought perhaps you wanted to wave them goodbye," he joked, but his tone hinted that he wasn't mocking those he had been thought to look down at. His vivid eyes connected with hers, seeming almost pitiful.

The Head of the Institute stood up, leaving the warlock behind, the biting cold taking her hand as he walked inside, off to save the day yet again, to make it seem as if their alliance could change the world, if they believed in it hard enough.

"Thanks," the boy smiled, while he rushed away into the old building she had seen being made brick by brick, torn apart riot after riot and restored with decades of work. Of course, she had seen it all, but that didn't mean once he walked inside, it felt as if he was only a mere shadow in history as they always were.

So, she was left alone again, chocolate in her hands, a blanket to keep hr warm, but no more sun to guide her way. She expected silence to take her again, but the bench shrieked once more at the weight of another soul and its story, though with a groan which could make any Seelie turn around.

She knew he had gone, that she would only see him again in a few hours, making documents, putting the alliance on paper, it would take a while, so she knew the person now sitting next to her wasn't the nervous man that had excused himself for being scared, who had saved her from the sun, while she had saved him all the same.

"Hello," she whispered, looking into those less peaceful, stormier golden eyes. He smiled back, almost in a way as if everything was going to be alright just because she had chocolate and a blanket. Sweets and sheets, she thought, while she broke another end of the bar and ate it.

"Hay."

His voice was cold, just as the snow, his golden eyes shone just as bright as the sun, but in a confused, not as gentle as Alec's, way. As though he was doing something for the first time, expecting it to go wrong, yet trying all the same, while he sat there, the wind playing with his blond hair.

"You saved Alec," he whispered, his glaze looming at the snow which began to cover his feet, falling own from the sky.

"No problem," she told the parabatai, breaking a piece of chocolate from her bar and handing it to him. She knew this was the closest they would get to every saying thank you, because it wasn't their kind. Or at least, it wasn't his. And she didn't blame him, she respected him for trying.

He took the chocolate, looked into her eyes and gave her a smile, a smile which told her he had tried, and he had succeeded, that he had gone a long way so he could thank her, in his own style, not by saying those words, but by stating the facts of her action, pride in his voice, it was the most of a thank you he had ever given a stranger.

"Do you like him?" he grinned, wanting to know if his brother had finally found someone else to care about then his closest family, someone who would be there for him when things went wrong, and not someone who knew him from the inside out, but who would love him for every new inch they discovered.

"Perhaps," she smiled, standing up, "but I'm sure many other people do.'

"That's the thing," Jace spoke, shortly before she opened the door to lead her inside.

"They don't."