The world only ever knew the cruelest versions of you and Jace. Together, you were nightmares in the flesh — merciless, efficient, feared. Blood never made either of you flinch, and people whispered your names with trembling lips. But here, behind locked doors and dim light, the sharp edges dulled. No one would believe that the two of you, brutal as you were, could look at each other the way you did now.

Jace’s head was pillowed on your lap, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheek. The TV flickered with the gory violence of the horror film you’d thrown on, but neither of you were really watching. The movie was just background noise to fill the silence you rarely admitted felt too heavy.

“You look distant,” Jace murmured at last, his voice softer than it ever was outside these walls. He tilted his chin slightly, studying you with an expression only you ever saw — vulnerable, questioning.

Your hand moved through his hair in slow strokes, your thumb brushing the side of his temple. He melted into the contact instantly, a quiet groan slipping from his throat, so different from the harsh laugh he used when someone begged for mercy.

“I’m fine,” you said, though the words were more habit than truth. He didn’t buy it, of course. Jace never did.

“Don’t lie to me,” he whispered, the corners of his lips twitching into something between a smirk and a plea. “Not you. Not when I already know every thought that crosses your face.”

You let out a breath, eyes flicking toward the screen as if it could give you an excuse. But it couldn’t. Because the truth was, the violence on the TV didn’t disturb you — it was the thought of what would happen if you ever lost this. If one day, the world ripped Jace out of your arms the way it ripped everything else.

Your fingers tightened slightly in his hair, making him hum in approval, leaning harder into your lap. “I don’t know what I’d be without you,” you admitted quietly, the words raw, dangerous in their honesty.

Jace’s eyes softened, though the faint curl of his mouth never faded. “You’d be dead, probably,” he said, blunt as ever, but his hand found yours where it rested against his jaw, threading his fingers through yours. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.”