Hey guys! I have a new one shot for ya.

Also, read the A/N at the bottom. It'll explain some stuff. Anyway, hope you like this one!

Thanks Rippingbutterflywings for beta-ing this along with the many other stories that I've been sending you. I really appreciate it! : )

Clary POV

I can't help but remember the way things used to be. When I first met him, all we would do is play Geometry Dash or Subway Surfers on our tablets. We did normal best friend things.

I remember the very first time I ever laid my head on his shoulder. Both of us were holding our breaths because we were so nervous. I was nervous because I was afraid he'd tell me to get off of him. He was nervous because he liked me in a way that I didn't know about. That night, we'd texted about it, and he told me that it was cool that I'd done that. He said it told him that I really trusted him. I smiled so big that night.

Back then, I was really self-conscious about my body. I felt I was overweight and ugly. He told me that he wouldn't lie to me about something like that, and told me that I was beautiful the way I was. He told me that I didn't need to be any skinnier, because I was more beautiful than all the skinny girls at school. I finally believed him after weeks of him trying to convince me that I was beautiful. The next day, a girl told me that I was fat. I told him that I was self-conscious again, because one of my friends called me fat. He got mad at my friend, and once again told me that I was perfect the way I was.

There was one day when we'd gone to the local skating rink and he'd been choked while I hadn't been with him. He avoided me the rest of the night until I finally yelled at him. He hadn't done anything, and so I skated past him, into the bathroom, where I cried my eyes out. I had thought that I'd done something wrong to him, that I hadn't acted a certain way. I thought that he realized that he could do better than me, and that maybe he didn't want to be my friend anymore. When I finally got it together, I walked out of the bathroom. He was staring at me. I noticed him staring at me and looked away. I skated past him without even glancing at him. He'd followed me and told me that it wasn't my fault. That night was a big night for us. He was texting me about what had happened to him, and I told him that I was a horrible friend for not being there with him. He said he was fine. We'd had a deep conversation. We told each other that we wouldn't ever leave unless the other person wanted us to leave. He told me that he loved me for the very first time. That was also the night we had our first fight. After he told me he loved me, he'd started blaming me for the things that went wrong that night. I told him I was sorry, and that I knew I shouldn't have left him, and that I felt bad, but he kept telling me it was all my fault. I asked him about the other things we'd said just moments before, about how he'd never leave me, how he told me he loved me. He fired back, saying that all of those things were gone right now because he was angry with me. I cried myself to sleep that night and woke up to thirteen unread text messages from him. He was freaking out, saying he was sorry and that it wasn't my fault. He said that he hoped I wasn't ignoring him. I told him that I'd just barely woken up, and that I was angry at him, because he told me that everything we'd said before he started blaming me was gone. I said: you told me you were never going to leave me, and you said you loved me, and then you said it was gone. He started sending me the good messages from the previous night and said that everything was still there. That he still loved me, and he wasn't going to leave me. I finally let him off the hook and forgave him. Because that's what best friends do.

I remember the first time I ever talked him out of suicide. He said that he hated his life. He said he hated himself, and he would be doing everyone a favor by just getting rid of himself. I told him that he was important to me. That I would be broken if he died, if he killed himself. He told me that I would find someone else besides him. I told him that no one could ever replace him. I said that I loved him. That I was here for him. He said that he wouldn't do anything. That he'd stay for me.

On Valentine's Day, his mom got me a teddy bear and a box of chocolates for him to give to me. We were twelve He got to the bus stop that day, showed me the teddy bear and chocolates, and told me he was giving them to his crush even though they were for me. That was the first time I got jealous about something like that.

Spring break rolled around, and he came over every single day. One day, we were watching Brain Games, and he snuggled up close to me, laying his head on my chest and wrapping his arms around me. I held my breath (as I so often did in events like these), and, slowly, I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He told me he was tired, and I told him to sleep, that I'd wake him up when it was time to go. I ran my fingers through his hair as he lay there, and while he never did fall asleep, we just sat there. We did that the rest of the week. Towards the end of the week, I realized that I had feelings for him. The boyfriend type of feelings that I shouldn't have had for my best friend.

I didn't tell him. That was also the week that I hugged him for the very first time. He told me that it was cool that I'd done that, and that he liked that I hugged him. He said he didn't want me to stop hugging him.

His birthday was a month later, and since he comes from a big family and wasn't going to get a birthday party, my family and I threw him a surprise birthday party. He smiled so big. I was just happy that I did something to make him happy.

He tickled me a lot. Like a lot, a lot. After a little while of him tickling me, I'd start running away to not get tickled, and he would catch me. We'd wrestle each other, and he'd always end up sitting on me and attacking me with tickles. There was one day when he was sitting on my stomach, and I kept tickling his sides. He would gasp for breath, and beg me to stop, and I wouldn't. His laugh was an amazing sound, and I loved hearing it. I rarely heard him laugh.

There was another day when I asked him to get me something, and he told me that I had legs that worked. I glared at him and started going off about all the things that I'd have to do when I was older and a mother. I said I'd have to do laundry, pick up the kids, take them to school, get them ready, take care of my husband, make dinner, go to work, do dishes, make time for myself, make time for my kids, make time for my husband, and all these other things, and he leaned over me and told me to stop. I said that it was true, and he said, "If you keep saying that, I'm going to cover your mouth with my hand. I'll go get what you want, but you need to stop." I agreed, and he got me what I'd asked him for.

A little while later, he asked me if it would be weird if he kissed me on the cheek. Like in a friend way, he said. I said, "No, but it would be weird if you meant it in a not friends way." He said okay. While we didn't kiss each other on the cheek, we were kind of awkward around each other. Finally there was one day when he was sitting on me, kissing my neck so gently that I wasn't sure if it was him kissing me or if it was his eyelashes as he blinked. I said his name, and he looked up at me. I kissed his nose, told him I loved him, and hugged him. He just sat there, stunned at how fast I'd done that. I was so nervous in that moment, I'm pretty sure I forgot how to breathe. That was how we started kissing each other—but as friends, right?

A couple weeks later, he came over after school and started feeling sick. I told him that he wasn't sick, and I kissed him all over his face. I did this for a few minutes, and right before we had to leave for him to go home, he grabbed my face and kissed me, right on my mouth. My eyes went wide, and his were closed, and he let go of my face, and we just left. We kept talking, but in the back of my mind, I was thinking, What the hell was that?! I still liked him, and he really wasn't making it any easier for me to back off. Later that night, he told me that he had thrown up and was completely miserable. He was so sick. I told him the next day, over text, that I thought I was sick. He asked why, and I told him that he kissed me and I thought that he got me sick. He started apologizing like crazy and said that he shouldn't have kissed me. That he had taken my first kiss, and he was so sorry. I told him that he didn't take my first kiss, because I hadn't kissed him back—I'd been too shocked—and that if I got sick then I got sick. It was okay. He still apologized like crazy. We didn't talk about the kiss after that night.

A little less than a month after his birthday, though, we were hanging out at my house. No one was home. I was lying on the couch on my back, and he was sitting on my stomach. I started annoying him, and he told me that if I didn't stop, he'd cover my mouth with his. I kept annoying him because I didn't think that he'd actually do it. I was wrong. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. He leaned back again and asked if I was gonna stop. Being stubborn and wanting to feel his lips against mine again, I said, "Probably not." He rolled his eyes and did it again. I would tuck my lips back so that it wouldn't seem like I was trying to kiss him, but it was hard for me to do when all I wanted to do was grab him and pull him to me. He did it a couple more times because I was being stubborn, but in a way I wasn't being stubborn. I was doing it on purpose. A little while after he'd gone home that night, he texted me and asked, Were you doing that on purpose so I'd kiss you? I promised him a long time ago that I wouldn't lie to him. As embarrassing as it was for me, I answered honestly…and told him yes. But then he did something I didn't think he would. He said, I kinda wanted you to keep doing it because I wanted to have an excuse to kiss you.

The day after that, he came over again and we were playing on our tablets, and I remember every detail of the next part. We were talking, sitting on my couch, like we normally do. I looked at him, straight in his eyes, and he looked at mine, and we just stopped. Stopped talking, stopped thinking. And then he leaned in slowly. His eyes left my eyes, glanced down at my lips, and then went back up to my eyes. He leaned in a little bit more, hesitating for a second, to make sure that I wasn't going to push him away. I wasn't going to push him away. He was so close to me now that I could feel his breath against my face. My eyes fluttered shut, and a second later I felt his lips press against mine. He moved slowly, letting me explore his lips before he explored mine. His hand slowly moved up, caressing my cheek and gently pulling me closer. I put my hand on the back of his neck and played with his hair. I didn't pull on his hair, for I didn't want to accidently hurt him. He pulled me closer, and I put my other hand on his hip. We just sat there, moving our lips against each other's, and then we broke apart. I couldn't look at him. I was so embarrassed to look at him. I knew that was my first kiss. I knew it was forever going to be in my mind…even though I didn't admit it to myself at first.

The moments after that were kinda funny. I stood up and asked him if he wanted anything to eat. He looked kinda stunned, but he said yes. He followed me to the kitchen and, after I got him something to eat, I sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. We talked a little bit, and after a while of him just pushing his food around, he got up and came to sit next to me. I looked at him and smiled before looking back down. He lifted my chin up and closed the space between us. He pressed his lips to mine. We stayed there for several minutes, just exploring this, getting used to it, because we both knew that it wasn't going to stop anytime soon. Later, when he texted me, he said, Are you okay? I said I was great, that that was amazing, but I wanted to go slower. I freaked out, kinda. That was my first kiss. The next thing he said? I'm sorry if you wanted someone else to have your first kiss. I told him that it was perfect. That I'm glad it was him, that I couldn't have imagined having it with someone else. He told me that he would let me guide him. He wouldn't do anything unless I wanted him too. Thank you, I said.

This went on for a couple more weeks, and we weren't dating or anything. We'd agreed that we didn't want to ruin our friendship if we ever broke up. And then, finally, on the twenty-fourth of May, he asked me out.

Hey, can I ask you something? he asked.

Uhh…. Sure. What's up? I asked.

Well, I just wanted to, um, ask. Are we basically together?

I laughed. Yeah…. Basically.

Well, then, will you go out with me? I won't ever break up with you, and if you break up with me, we'll still be friends. I promise. I still want to be friends with you.

I smiled so big that day. Yes, I'll go out with you. I'd like that.

He smiled big that day too. I could feel it, just in the emotion in his texts.

His family life still sucked pretty badly. He still went through times when he said he wanted to kill himself. I asked him, Do you want to marry me? He said, Of course. I want to have kids with you and I want to kiss you in front of all of our family. I want to come home to you and sleep in the same bed as you, protect you from your terrible nightmares. Be there when you wake up crying. Kiss you as we make dinner. Watch movies with you. I want it all… with you. I said, I want that too baby, but we won't ever get there if you decided to kill yourself. Your life will get better. I'll make it better for you. I promise I won't let you suffer forever. You just have to wait a little while, but I promise. Your life will be great.

Over the summertime, he came over almost every day during the week. It was amazing. I loved it. We would pretty much make out, cuddle, hug, hold hands; we just couldn't get enough of each other. There was one time when he was on top of me, supporting himself on his elbows, and his hand was on my hip. He slowly started moving it up. He stopped on my stomach, hesitating for a second. I pushed my tongue into his mouth and arched my back. His hand slid under my shirt, and then his hand was over my bra. I think both of us sucked a breath in. He squeezed, and I gasped against his lips. He smiled and started kissing me again. A few minutes later, his hand slid under my bra, and I moaned into his mouth. It stayed like that for a couple of weeks, and then he got brave enough to try to reach more south on my body. I let him, but I still wasn't brave enough touch him there. Finally, towards the end of summer, he was sitting on me, and I had my hands on his chest. I was kissing him anxiously and, very slowly, I inched my hand down more and more until my hand covered him. He moaned and lifted his hips to meet my delicate touch. I slowly started rubbing his jeans, experimenting, seeing what got the best reaction out of him. He groaned so many more times as I experimented. I was only glad to return the favor.

That was the way things were for the next month or so. School started again, and we agreed not to tell anybody about us dating because they'd only be up in our business that much more. But about a month into the school year, he started saying that he couldn't come over. He said he had a ton of homework, and that he was swamped. But then he slowly stopped texting me. One day, after he'd spend the weekend at a friend's house, we were texting. He said that the boy whose house he'd been at and the boy's little bother were like his best guy friends. I asked if they were like his best friends. He said, Basically. I think that's the moment that my heart started to crumble. I told him he couldn't come over on Monday or Tuesday because my mom was off and I was spending those days with her. And he continued on to say that he still had tons of homework and he couldn't come over. I asked if he would come over on Wednesday. Maybe if I don't have tons of homework to do. And then I finally asked him, Are you even interested in coming over anymore?

Not really. I still like to but not as much as I used to. I don't really have any fun at your house anymore.

And so that's how we stopped talking outside of school. Eventually, he stopped saying "I love you," and he didn't respond when I texted him. He didn't say goodnight anymore, which we'd said to each other since day one. I feel like I'm sending texts to no one. I still tell him goodnight, every night. I still tell him that I love him, even though it's pretty obvious that he doesn't feel the same way.

I finally broke. I'd been coming home and crying for the last two weeks, and I was tired of feeling the way that I did. I told him that sometimes, I just wanted to die. I told him that no one would care if I were gone, no one would even notice. He said he needed me, and I told him he didn't. That he didn't even text me anymore, and he didn't come over anymore, and that he only liked going to his best friend's house now. He said he would notice if I was gone, and that it would break him if he knew that he was the reason that I'd decided life was too hard for living. Somehow he convinced me to not do anything. But he still didn't change anything. He still didn't come over; he still didn't text.

I told him that I wanted to have plans with him during Thanksgiving Break because we will have been together for six months then. My dad, who I have problems with, is also coming that week. I told him that I wanted to have plans then, and he promised me that he would come with me to see my dad months ago. Now, he said, If my friend is going out of town that week, I'm going with him. No matter what.

A few days after that, I realized that what I was feeling was my heart breaking in half.

I told him, texting, that I just wanted to die, and that I was sick of feeling this way, and that he promised me he would never leave me. He replied back, THINGS CHANGE! Did you know that?

I wish that that the best things in life wouldn't change. I wish that my life would stop changing. I wish I could just have one piece of something that makes me happy.

Things change.

Yeah, that's all true. My heart is currently broken, but writing this has made me a little bit happier, and given me a little piece of mind because it's helped me remember why I fell in love with him in the first place. I still miss him like crazy though.

Also, I'm sorry I haven't updated How to Love yet, I have explanations. 1) my beta just started college last August/September and is swamped! Like she's been telling me some of the things that she has to do, and Oh My GOD! She is so busy! So I'm not going to be a jerk and tell her to just beta my story, like seriously guys, manners. But yeah. 2.) I haven't been able to write anything else for How to Love yet, because I'm in a difficult place. They're getting to a more romantic part of story and I feel like I can't write romantic stuff right now when I'm going through what I'm going to. And 3) I'm in a writer's block. I haven't been able to write much of anything lately without crying and wishing that I could have the things that my stories are about. I try to write happier things but it's hard for me because I'm not exactly the happiest person in the world right now. I'm working through things and I'm gonna get better, but I'm not better right now. My life is just pretty much blah right now.

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this story but yeah. Thanks for all your support.

Thanks Rippingbutterflywings, for listening to me rant about all of this, thanks for beta-ing my stories. I seriously appreciate everything that you're doing for me right now. Especially with you being busy. And I hate to bug you about beta-ing this one, but just get to it when you can. You're amazing and I'm very thankful for you! : )

-Jace loves me