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Alec has always been afraid of the dark.
His parents pass it off as a phase, excused with age, but some nights he’ll ask Maryse to leave the door open, or the hall light on. He knows she won’t listen, knows she’ll only frown past his tears that don’t dare fall until the door is inevitably closed. Alec knows the hand that twists that knob is final.
Izzy doesn’t see them.
She’s not fearless, but even she doesn’t share his terrors, and he begins to think something’s wrong with him when she comments on the tremble of his hands every night.
But when his door opens and the strip of light breaks through the hisses, he knows he’s not crazy. Sounds and chills envelop him throughout the night, unrelenting cries of sorrow and pain buried deep in plush carpet from lives lost. Alec’s chest aches, but it doesn’t stop, doesn’t end until tears sting and exhaustion kicks in.
Tonight, he slips resigned under his covers, expectant and scared. He can’t stop them from coming, nobody listens, and his blanket is just a weak barrier for the haunts that reside under the realm of reality.
But the whispers never come, only the quiet hum of a lullaby from the corner of his room.
A radio? In the darkness there’s no indication of one, just an unfamiliar shadow.
It’s not what he’s used to, not the sharp, biting, screeching in his head that only Alec seems to hear, painful and cruel, digging deep in his bones.
This isn’t cold. This shadow emanates calm, a soft breeze attempting to be warmed by a sun that refuses to shine. The hum trails across the room, and Alec listens closely. Someone’s there.
“Hello?”
When he moves to speak again, the humming stops. There’s a shuffle, a pause before he sees something gold flickering from the shadows, and he has to strain to hear the faint greeting that follows.
“Who are you?” He can feel the currents in the air, the cool breath of warm wind against the back of his neck that makes his hairs rise, but it’s not malevolent.
“Magnus,” the whisper grazes his conscience.
“Are you a ghost?” Silence meets him, so he presses, “why are you in my room?”
There’s a small sigh, barely a breath heard above the heavy beating in his chest. He sees the flash of gold – two eyes – and he sinks back against his headboard, familiar in the unexpected.
“I’m trying to help you sleep,” the voice – Magnus – is low, but clear. “Will you let me?”
Alec feels the questions bubbling inside of him, clawing his throat and begging to be voiced, but he hides them with the curiosity he’s used to suppressing. Heavy is his head when it hits the pillow, and for the first time in years Alec feels the tension release, following the pull of Magnus’ voice.
His mind is racing as he drifts into sleep, but all the while Magnus keeps the terrors away.