Chapter Text
Magnus slipped quietly into the apartment and headed straight for the drink cart. Today's client was a sweet warlock child with a nasty bout of poison and Magnus could barely contain his emotions throughout the entirety of the treatment. The girl had been dumped near a semi-popular beach in New Jersey and found by a local mundane couple around midnight. Many mundanes and downworlders alike frequent the area, day and night. Either the parent wasn’t a local, or they didn’t care enough to be discrete. If they knew anything about the shadow world, they most likely assumed the death of a warlock child would not be raising high alerts with the local authorities (i.e. the shadowhunters). In other words: the child was not deemed worthy of a discrete death because the mother assumed no one would miss her enough to go after the perpetrator.
How depressing, thought Magnus. Depressing, not only because of the situation at hand, but also because the mother was probably right. There was a lot on the shadowhunters’ plates at the moment. The child’s killer would fall to the wayside.
Magnus filled a tumbler with rum and drank. He hardly felt it.
Eventually, the local shadowhunters had been alerted and had called upon the nearest High Warlock to accompany them to the scene. Lorenzo deemed it beneath himself, especially due to the proximity (or lack there-of) of the case. Enter yours truly.
The girl was alive, but barely. Her small breaths were labored, and her fingers and toes were chilled to the point of turning blue. Luckily, the current was soft that day and had washed her up almost immediately after the dumping. Additionally, the convenient and rather ironic twist to this story was that the little infant’s warlock mark had been webbed feet and hands. The mark wasn’t fully developed; thin layers of skin still crept their way up through the slits in her extremities. However, it was prominent enough to help save her life. Magnus had checked each little web in addition to extracting the poison from her body. They had scars all over them, as though someone had been trying to cut them out from between her fingers. Magnus kissed each one.
After she’d been properly healed, the shadowhunters took the unconscious child back to the New Jersey institute. Magnus asked if he might inquire about her the following day, but the shadowhunters told him he would need to put in a formal request. The girl was under the jurisdiction of the Clave now.
Magnus had scoffed. Jurisdiction. In other words: she’d be left to minimal care and contact until less important missions began to arise, or she would be handed over to the silent brothers. Magnus wasn’t sure which was worse. At least, he thought, if she was taken to the silent brothers, he could speak to brother Zachariah.
He poured himself a second glass (gin and tonic this time around; he was trying to sleep, not get plastered) and made his way to the bedroom. As he walked in, he was shocked to find his Nephilim boyfriend sitting on the bed.
Alec looked solemn. He was sitting at the foot of the bed with his feet flat against the floor and his back hunched over in what must have been an uncomfortable position. His elbows were placed against the inner sides of his knees, pressing them out to create space for the shirt he held in his hand. Magnus recognized the shirt as the one he had allowed Alec to borrow earlier that morning; it was now crumpled up between Alec’s fingers, leaving Magnus’s boyfriend topless.
Magnus wasn’t complaining, by any means. Alec was a beautiful man. Thick, toned muscles wrapped around his torso and worked their way down to the “V” of his hips. The angelic runes were prominent against Alec’s dark skin, and their deep, rich color was enhanced by the light filtering through the red curtains hanging over the window. As it was dusk, everything had a red tint to it. Including Alec. Magnus was so focused on the topless aspect of his boyfriend that he almost didn’t notice the pained expression flash across Alec’s face as soon as Magnus walked in.
Alec was picking at the shirt and looked like he was concentrating hard on some sort-of pattern he had found there. At least, that’s what Magnus inferred he was doing the brief second he saw Alec before the young man looked up at him. He looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“Magnus,” he started, rising from his spot on the bed, “I, uh, I’m sorry I should have asked before coming. I just, um… Well, I came to bring you your shirt. But,” He paused, looking a bit sheepish, “it- well it still has the sleeves altered so I wasn’t sure if I should just leave it or-” he cut off again, looking down at himself self-consciously. “Um,” he began again, “I also forgot to bring an extra shirt… of my own, I mean.”
Magnus was perplexed. Since when did Alec care to text him when he was coming over? Sure, the first few weeks, when they were setting aside dates for one-another, it made sense. But, as they grew more comfortable in their relationship, and as Alec began making himself more at-home in the loft, they had forgone the courtesy of warning texts a while back.
“Sweetheart, you’re always welcome here. I thought I had made that clear,” Magnus said as he set the drink down on his dresser. “And you may keep the shirt. I have plenty. Plus, it looks good on you; I wouldn’t want to deprive your wardrobe, or my eyes, the luxury of a well-fitted top for once.” Magnus winked, hoping to portray that he was teasing (mostly).
“Oh, no thank you,” Alec stated, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling his elbow together; almost as though he were hugging himself. He looked tense, and… beaten. Magnus raised his eyebrows, a bit perplexed at the onslaught of self-conscious emotions emanating off of Alec.
“No,” Alec began, resolution saturating his voice, “this is your place and your stuff and I-” Alec paused, taking a deep breath, “I don’t ask. I should have asked, but I don’t with you and I’m sorry. I’m… well, it doesn’t matter. I just want you to have your shirt back,” Alec finished, handing Magnus the garment stiffly. He allowed his hand to linger against Magnus’s for a brief moment before pulling back and shoving both of them in his pockets. He shuffled his feet a bit before finally deciding to make his way out of the bedroom. Magnus grabbed his arm before he could get further than the doorframe.
“Alexander,” he breathed, “Darling, what’s this about? What doesn’t matter?” Magnus searched his eyes for clues, but Alec turned his head towards the door, blocking his view. Everything in Alec’s body language screamed “retreat”, but he left his arm in Magnus’s grasp.
“That,” Alec said sharply, finally looking up at Magnus. “It’s that you- ugh, you call me these things. These terms of endearment, but you call everyone “darling”. And… and you, God Magnus, you have this box full of people that have held you and touched you and I feel- I feel…” Alec closed his eyes and let out a long, deep breath.
Magnus, on the other hand, was holding his. Ah. So that’s what this was about.
Alec finally pulled his arm out of Magus’s grasp and leaned against the doorframe. He was still looking at the floor.
“I know you’re immortal Magnus. I know that you have to move on from this stuff to keep… living. But… I hate that you’ll move on from me.” Alec finally looked up and Magnus could see the unshed tears in his eyes. “I know this is selfish, and I know it’s cruel for me to even think this way. But it’s how I feel.”
“Alexander-” he began, reaching out to his arm once again, but Alec flinched back.
“No,” he huffed out, “no, let me finish,” he said, looking back down at his shoes. He paused for a second, thinking through his next statement, and then looked back up at Magnus. “Someday… someday I’m gonna be one of those things in your box and you… Magnus you’re, like, my whole box.” He swallowed thickly and blinked away a few tears. “You’re my whole life.”
And now, finally, Magnus understood. Why Alec was insisting he take the shirt back. Why he was ready to bolt from the room as soon as Magnus allowed the conversation to end. Why he had apologized for not texting Magnus before coming to his apartment. When Alec had looked into that box, he felt insignificant. It was one thing to talk about immortality, but an entirely different thing to be physically confronted by it. How small Alec’s life was compared to the eight-hundred years of treasures hidden away in Magnus’s little memory box.
But it wasn’t just the box, and Magnus could see that Alec was recognizing this now. It was everywhere. It was the five-hundred-year-old vase that Ragnor had gifted Magnus for his whatever-year-old birthday. It was the eight-hundred-year-old dagger that Magnus’ mother had used to end her own life. It was the books and the tapestries and the photographs and suddenly Magnus could see the way that Alec was suffocating under the shear weight of Magnus’ age. Of his life.
It was just this morning that Alec was here asking Magnus to let him move in, to let him build a life with Magnus. And now, Alec was coming to the, logical but incorrect, conclusion that Magnus had already lived it. Alec wanted to build a home with Magnus when Magnus had already erected a castle on his own. In Alec’s eyes, there was no room for him here. There was nothing left to build on. Magnus had been loved every way that a man could be loved. Touched in every place that a man could be touched. And Magnus could see, now, the evidence stacking up against him, pushing Alec into a spiral of self-doubt and insignificance. Because Alec didn’t know (and this was Magnus’s fault); he didn’t know that he had torn into parts of Magnus that no one had ever dared to look at. He had touched Magnus in ways that no one had ever touched him before. Yes, the places were the same and the actions were the same. But Alexander loved and touched with such intensity that left Magnus breathless each time.
Alec loved Magnus the way Magnus had held himself back from loving others for so long. And Magnus had failed to show him that this feeling, this depth, was reciprocated.
And Magnus knew. He knew that Nephilim only love once, and fiercely. But he hadn’t thought… well, he still held onto the sliver of doubt that perhaps, one day, this would be too much for Alec. That he would crave something, or someone, a little closer to home. Here Magnus had been, focusing so hard on not getting his heart broken that he had convinced his beautiful Nephilim boyfriend that he was nothing more that a trinket in a box.
This needed to be fixed now, before Alec allowed himself to be swallowed by his own thoughts.
But, before Magnus could move, Alec had finally broken free of his stance and left for the living room.
“I need to go Magnus,” he said, curtly, heading for the front door (still shirtless).
“Alec-”
“No, Magnus, I’m not-” he sighed, looking at Magnus again with those big, doe eyes. He looked so sad. There was resolution in his gaze, alongside a deep pain. A pain Magnus knew he was at fault for putting there. So unnecessary, if only Magnus had been honest sooner. Alec looked at Magnus like a man full of thirst looks at the ocean. He knew what he wanted, what he needed, and it was right there. But he couldn’t have it (or so he thought).
You can have it! Magnus wanted to scream. You can have me. You already have me you stupid Nephilim. Instead, he simply asked:
“What? Darli-Angel, Why? Where are you going now? You haven’t even let me-”
“Magnus,” Alec cut him off, “there’s a little girl at the New Jersey institute. I got the call right before you got home. I should have left sooner.” He ended, looking defeated.
“A little warlock girl?” Magnus asked, shocked at both the new information and the sharp turn that the conversation had suddenly taken.
“Yah how did-? Never mind, I just need to go. I have to request a transfer before they send her to the silent city,” Alec said, turning for the door again.
“Wait! Alexander, let me go with you.” Magnus went to grab his jacket off the coat hanger (well, two jackets, Alec was still half-naked). Just as he was about to get his arm through the first sleeve though, Alec cut him off.
“No,” Alec said, placing his hand against Magnus’s forearm. “No, you stay here. There’s nothing we can do until I get the Clave to sign off on the transfer. It’s just a bunch of paperwork right now.”
Magnus shrugged off his hand and finished getting the rest of his coat put on.
“Well, then I can help you fill out paperwork. Or go talk to the New Jersey shadowhunters. Or-“
“Magnus,” Alec said again, squaring his shoulders and looking down at Magnus’s chest. Magnus suspected he was avoiding his eyes for a reason. “Please, just… just let me handle this.” Just let me be alone, they both knew was left unsaid.
Magnus reached for his boyfriend, but Alec pulled away this time, jerking his head as though he’d been shocked. It broke Magnus’s heart, but he put his arms down and looked at Alec resolutely.
“Fine,” he said, “At least let me portal you to the institute. You can’t go walking down the streets of New York shirtless.” He paused, smirking a bit. “Well, you can…” He trailed off, trying to bring some light back into the conversation. Alec smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Okay,” he relented, stepping back from the front door. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at the floor, waiting for Magnus to open the portal. Magnus did, but before he allowed Alec to step through, he placed one hand on his chest and the other he used to tip his chin up. Alec looked tired and defeated; it cracked open Magnus’s heart further than it had already been broken by the prior conversation. He couldn’t fix this now, but he couldn’t leave the conversation on such a bad note. He couldn’t let Alec leave feeling so completely… irrelevant.
“Alexander,” he whispered, looking straight into Alec’s hazel eyes, “I love you.” He dropped the glamour as he said this, willing Alec to see the depth of emotion present in his eyes. But Alec averted his gaze, glancing behind Magnus into the portal.
“I love you too, Magnus,” he said, finally looking back into Magnus’ cat eyes and allowing a few of those unshed tears to fall. But before Magnus could even think to wipe them away, he pulled his chin from Magnus’s grasp and stepped hastily through the portal.