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Surfacing from a sleep that should’ve lasted at least another week, Magnus’ mouth feels like a tide of alcohol has left only sand in its wake and his head’s still swimming with regret over the senseless fight with his best friend that triggered his headlong dash into anything offering oblivion from Alexander Gideon Lightwood.
Nothing had delivered it though, just as Catarina had warned him in-between clubs.
Tempted by the aroma of French toast, and the masochistic allure of its creator, Magnus shuffles bleary-eyed into the kitchen to slump in his chair, Advil and water already waiting for him as a disgustingly-functional Alec continues prepping.
Magnus dutifully takes the restorative.
‘Your phone’s over there. Where you left it in your rush to leave.’ Alec pauses. ‘Some Imasu kept calling. Told him you hadn’t surfaced yet. Wants you to call him back.’
Unsure what coloured Alec’s tone, thanks to his head fog, Magnus banished his unwelcome admirer to obscurity and decided coffee, thick and black as tar, was needed to endure this meal. Gingerly retrieving his cellphone from the counter, he dismisses all other messages, hitting play on a voicemail from Catarina before readying their drinks.
Only it isn’t Cat’s voice that pierces the tension, but Magnus’, whiskey-soaked and loud, despite the din of the club he’d ended his miserable night at. Demanding, in between hiccups and Cat’s protestations, that he stop fucking around and tell Alec the truth.
‘This is for your own good...idiot!’
Awareness hits too late over what his drunken self’s about to spill, freezing him halfway to the fridge, helpless to stop the incriminating message sucking all the oxygen out of their suddenly-small kitchen.
‘You. Love. Him. S-so tell him he’s your world, he..he deserves to know. It’ssss the only way. You’re losing him.’
Deafening silence follows for ten excruciating seconds before Alec refocuses on the food.
Somehow finishing his task with trembling hands, Magnus slides into his seat like someone seeking the comfort of the electric chair.
Mentally preparing to pack quickly and spare his beloved roommate’s blushes the instant breakfast’s forced past his lips, Magnus watches Alec plate up and sit, bemused and offended when he reaches across to cut up his food for him.
Stung, Magnus blurts, ‘I’m not a child, Alec!’
‘Then stop acting like one and tell me the truth to my face,’ came the sharp rebuke, drawing Magnus’ gaze to that unfairly beautiful face now watching him with an intensity usually reserved for a winning move on Monday chess nights.
Magnus croaks, ‘I’ve always loved you more than any friend should, and I know-’
‘You know shit, or you’d have realised you’re my world too,’ Alec replies tersely before stopping his heart with a kiss that ruins Magnus’ appetite for anything else. Ever.
Before he can respond in kind, Alec pulls away, raising his mug with an infectious smile that compels Magnus to follow suit now his body’s been jump-started.
‘To us,’ Alec whispers.
Magnus positively glows.
‘To us.’
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