In Love With Fictional Characters

Simon watched Clary as she leaned against the refrigerator, biting her lip like she always did when she was upset. Often he forgot how small she was, how light-boned and fragile, but at times like this – times when he wanted to put his arms around her – he was restrained by the thought that holding her too hard might hurt her, especially now when he no longer knew his own strength.
Jace, he knew, didn’t feel that way. Simon had watched with a sick feeling in his stomach, unable to look away, as Jace had taken Clary in his arms and kissed her with such force Simon had thought one or the both of them might shatter. He’d held her as if he wanted to crush her into himself, as if he could fold the two of them into one person.
Of course Clary was strong, stronger than Simon gave her credit for. She was a Shadowhunter, with all that entailed. But that didn’t matter; what they had between them was still as fragile as a flickering candle flame, as delicate as eggshell – and he knew that if it shattered, if he somehow let it break and be destroyed, something inside him would shatter too, something that could never be fixed.

I think about him all the time. It’s awful. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Scrawny little mundane bastard. Except he isn’t. Scrawny, anymore. Or a mundane. And I Iike spending time with him. He makes me laugh. And I like the way he smiles. You know, one side of his mouth goes up before the other one. I miss him when he’s not around.