City of Ashes Jace and Clary

A Jace and Clary wallpaper i made for myself as I eagerly await City of Glass.
~~~
"Why do you think?" Her words were almost soundless, barely a whisper.
"Then why?" His voice shook. "Why all this with Simon, why keep pushing me away, not letting me near you--
"Because it's impossible," she said, and the last word came out as a sort of wail, despite her best efforts at control. You know that as well as I do!
"Because you're my sister," Jace said.
She nodded without speaking.
"Possibly," said Jace. "And because of that, you've decided your old friend Simon makes a useful distraction?"
"It's not like that," she said. "I love Simon.
"Like you love Luke," said Jace. "Like you love your mother.
"No." Her voice was as cold and pointed as an icicle. "Don't tell me what I feel."
A small muscle jumped at the side of his mouth. "I don't believe you."
Clary stood up. She couldn't meet his eyes, so instead she fixed her gaze on the thin star-shaped scar on his right shoulder, a memory of some old injury. This life of scars and killing, Hodge had said once. You have no part in it. "Jace," she said. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because you're lying to me. And you're lying to yourself." Jace's eyes were blazing, and even though his hands were stuffed into his pockets, she could see they were knotted into fists.
Something inside Clary cracked and broke, and words came pouring out. "What do you want me to tell you? The truth? The truth is that I love Simon like I should love you, and I wish he was my brother and you weren't, but I can't do anything about that and neither can you ! Or do you have some ideas, since your so goddamned smart?
Jace sucked a breath in, and she realized he had never expected her to say what she'd just said, not in a million years. The look on his face said as much.
She scrambled to regain her composure. "Jace, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"No. You're not sorry. Don't be sorry." He moved toward her, almost tripping over his feet—Jace, who never stumbled, never tripped over anything, never made an ungraceful move. His hands came up to cup her face; she felt the warmth of his fingertips, millimeters from her skin; knew she ought to pull away, but stood frozen, staring up at him. "You don't understand," he said. His voice shook. "I've never felt this way about anyone. I didn't think I could. I thought—the way I grew up— my father—"

"To love is to destroy," she said numbly. "I remember."

~~~

Let's hope they're not related. *Fingers crossed*