“Don't leave." He leaned his forehead against the door next to hers. "I'm a real bastard, I know, but don't leave, Lola.”

“Never Leave." His voice dropped, and he turned to face her."I'm more worried about losing you."He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Then you have nothing to worry about”

“Maybe I could love you someday."If you ever do," he said, "come and let me know. You know where to find me."Her teeth were chattering harder. "I can't lose you, Simon. I can't."You never will. I'm not leaving you. But I'd rather have what we have, which is real and true and important, than have you pretend anything else. When I'm with you, I want to know I'm with the real you, the real Clary."She leaned her head against his, closing her eyes. He still felt like Simon, despite everything; still smelled like him, like his laundry soap. "Maybe I don't know who that is."But I do.”

“The door vibrated with the soft bump of Travis’’ forehead against the door. “I don’t want you leave, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“I turn to see Ansel leaning against the door frame. His eyes swept over the room."Whoa, Hurricane Naomi strikes, leaving no survivers.”

“He groaned and leaned his forehead against hers, “You drive me mad, Elizabeth. I dream I am holding you every night. I wake in a sweat, aching and disappointed. Dreams of you have replaced my nightmares, but they leave me empty and restless and my body on fire. I can't even remember why we argued. I don't care how things went wrong.”