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Magnus didn’t know what he was expecting. But with Isabelle’s invitation still fresh in his mind, what he did know was that the wedding was tonight, and - despite his earlier protestations that he wouldn’t ask Alec again - somehow he couldn’t stop himself from going. He had to see this through to the end, no matter what that end may be.
He hadn’t expected to be so late, however. The doors swung open with a resounding bang that he had to admit was dramatic even by his standards. Every head in the room turned to look at him as he rounded the corner into the wedding hall, stopping short as he took in the scene before him.
The ceremony was well under way, the stele held lightly between Lydia’s fingers and hovering just inches away from Alec’s outstretched wrist. The couple seemed almost frozen as they stared at him. It struck him that had he been only a few seconds later, none of this would have mattered. He wouldn’t have mattered.
As it was, he didn’t know if his presence changed anything. Faintly, he heard the hiss of a woman’s voice and somehow he knew it was about him. But all he could see was Alec.
He stood there, eyes locked with Magnus’. He was wearing a gorgeous suit, white and fitted perfectly to his frame. His hair looked like it had been combed at some point, but it hadn’t stayed that way long, instead reverting to its signature tousled look. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was amused at how Alec managed to make even his wedding attire look haphazard by leaving the second button of his suit undone. And he was beautiful.
Magnus was trying desperately to breathe - and what was he doing here, this was a terrible idea, what did he even plan to do, and oh, God, Alec was stunning - when suddenly Maryse was striding up to him.
“Magnus, leave this wedding now -” she began, but he raised a hand distractedly, cutting her off.
It took a great deal of effort to drag his eyes away from Alec long enough to respond. “Maryse, this is between me and your son. I’ll leave if he asks me to.” He was amazed at how steady his voice sounded. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, but he gathered his courage and stepped forward, leaving Maryse behind him and leaving nothing between him and Alec.
And he stood, eyes meeting Alec’s like a meeting of souls, and he wondered again what he had planned to do. What Ragnor said had struck a chord in him, something he couldn’t ignore, but now that he was here… well, now he was at a loss.
He was too far away to hear the whispered words of those standing at the altar, and so instead he savored every move, every breath, every beautiful part of Alexander Lightwood. And in his head he allowed himself to say it, just this once: Alexander. If this was the last moment he had to remember him by, he would commit every wonderful, heartbreaking piece of it to his immortal memory. The tale of Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane; a story he would one day tell as the story that could have been, but never was.
Because despite the determination he wore on his face, he could do nothing but stand and wait for Alec to make his decision. He had promised not to ask again, and he would never dare to out Alec in front of all these people; only Alec could do that, in his own time and in his own way. But offering him a silent choice, a plea against throwing his life away for his family, that he could do. He deserved that much. They both did.
An eternity later Alec turned to him, away from Lydia, and Magnus’s gaze sharpened. He could feel the mask of determination slip as the same expression slid its way over Alec’s features. Their eyes met - and had they ever really looked away from each other? For Magnus felt he had been drowning in pools of golden hazel since before he had ever met this beautiful Nephilim and he simply hadn’t known it until now.
And Alec was moving, with long purposeful strides, and Magnus prepared himself - for what, he didn’t know - as Maryse moved past him, her voice an unwelcome clamor in his rapture of hazel.
“Alec, what are you doi-”
“Enough.”
And the second voice, deep and rumbling, like thunder from the heavens. He committed that to memory as well.
Everything seemed too slow and too fast all at once as Alec descended upon him- and he was going to tell him to leave, throw him out, of course he wouldn’t choose him why would he choose him... But suddenly hands gripped at his lapels, and Magnus had a moment of confusion followed by disbelief as Alec’s lips - soft, warm, the taste of a summer’s day - met his own.
Clarity shot through him at the contact, breaking whatever trance he had been in - fear, anticipation, he didn’t know what to call it - and Alec was kissing him. And then he was kissing him back, mouths moving in perfect harmony and God , Magnus didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. He had prepared himself for heartbreak, for hope, for a million things, but nothing could have prepared him for the taste of Alec Lightwood.
Too soon, Alec pulled back, and Magnus felt himself chase after the glorious sensation of those lips on his before it registered that Alec had pulled back. A moment of terror struck his heart as he wondered if Alec regretted this - their lips pressed together, breath mingling - before he met Alec’s gaze and saw the same wonder he felt reflected there. The fist around his heart released, lips pulling into a small smile as Alec leaned in again, lips crashing together this time, more sure. As he sank into the kiss, he knew - with all the wisdom his long life had granted him in the affairs of the heart - that there was no coming back from this. Alec owned him, heart and soul, and he was his to destroy.
When they finally pulled apart, Magnus looked into those dark pools of hazel, still heavy lidded from the kiss and felt his heart swell.
Magnus didn’t know what he had been expecting. But he hadn’t been expecting this. A smile played on his lips - lips that still tingled from the lingering whisper of Alec’s breath.
“You never cease to amaze me, Alec.”