Jace threw himself down next to his parabatai. “I’ve heard that if you stare at those things enough, they’ll ring.”
“He’s been texting Magnus,” said Isabelle, glancing over with a disapproving look.
“I haven’t,” Alec said automatically.
“Yes, you have,” said Jace, craning to look over Alec’s shoulder. “And calling. I can see your outgoing calls.”
“It’s his birthday,” Alec said, flipping the phone shut. He looked smaller these days, almost skinny in his worn blue pullover, holes at the elbows, his lips bitten and chapped. Clary’s heart went out to him. He’d spent the first week after Magnus had broken up with him in a sort of daze of sadness and disbelief. None of them could really believe it. She’d always thought Magnus loved Alec, really loved him; clearly Alec had thought so too. “I didn’t want him to think that I didn’t—to think that I forgot.”
“You’re pining,” said Jace.
Alec shrugged. “Look who’s talking. ‘Oh, I love her. Oh, she’s my sister. Oh why, why, why—’ ”
Members with the YPG observing the field after small units affiliated to the terrorist group known as Da’esh (ISIS) launched numerous attacks against security positions defended by the People’s Defense Units (YPG). KOBANI, Rojava. November 19, 2015.