These fragments I have shored against my ruins
A/N: This is more or less based on several prompts from my story "fragments", namely: Lines, Secret, Pale, Pieces. And because I am lazy, I have smashed all of them together and mixed them up to get...this. Yay for angst. I'll do fluff next (yes, the proposal/ring thing is in in the making). Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The title belongs to T.S. Eliot, the characters to Cassandra Clare.
Summary: In which Magnus lies wide awake at night and ponders over the fragility of their relationship.
The silver moonlight is streaking through the half-opened curtains, illuminating the dimly lit room and casting eerie shadows on the walls. The silence is loaded, not half as comfortable as it should be; it reverberates in his ears, almost deafening, only interrupted by Alec's soft and rhythmic breathing and the occasional sound of crumpling sheets when he shifts in his sleep.
Magnus likes watching Alec sleep, mostly because it is the only time ever looks relaxed, peaceful even, although Magnus knows he is just lying to himself – even now he can see the ghost of tension scurrying over his face whenever the slightest sound penetrate his dreams, the faint lines of worry and sadness that never quite seem to leave, the shimmer of a frown, and how his muscles tense; Alec is a shadowhunter, after all, and something like a peaceful slumber does not exist for him. Down to the core of his being, he is a fighter, he has always been and he will always be, always slightly on the edge, vigilant, ready to jump up anytime and go into battle. Still, the sleep softens his features, making him look young and innocent and fragile, and all of the other things he could have been but never was, and yet, at the same time, still is.
There is no room for fragility and weakness in the world of shadowhunters, nor is there for innocence when you are raised with the sole purpose of learning how to kill, and although Alec is still painfully young, he has seen way too much already. Not for the first time Magnus wonders how he manages to guard and maintain his purity of soul, his dreams of a better world, and not turn out like Jace, who epitomizes the sarcasm and bitterness that shadowhunters usually exhibit and who keeps pushing everyone away (but then again, Alec does that, too, just in a different way).
Now, with the dull moonlight glistening on his pale skin and the long black hair falling into his eyes, Alec looks curiously ethereal, and if Magnus needed a proof that the Nephilim had angelic blood running through their veins he'd only have to remember the image of him curled up between the sheets, eradiating a warmth that permeates Magnus's very being. In this moment he looks so breathtakingly beautiful it makes his heart clench painfully, a cold, piercing ache that pierces a hole in his chest and leaves a throbbing hollowness behind – the echoes of the realization that he will never deserve him.
Sometimes Magnus wonders he could ever hope that they would work it out (and why he still does), when they were clearly never meant to be.
Ancestry aside (part-angel versus half-demon, because they weren't fucked up enough already and they just needed another issue to worry about), Alec is still everything Magnus isn't. He is quiet and reserved, shy even, usually calm and collected and easily embarrassed. He is used to living in the shadows, hiding from the world, and he's quite good at it, too – he hides everything, even from himself, blending into the shadows, into the salvation that loneliness offers.
If there's anything they have in common, it is that they are both afraid of who they are.
What Alec needs, Magnus muses, is someone to pull him out of the shadows, to confront him with himself and reassure him, tell him it's okay to be whoever he wants to be, someone who teaches him to not be afraid of what he feels. He knows that Alec thinks he is that person, and everyone else thinks it, too, - he remembers quite vividly how Alec once showed up at his doorstep, his words so rushed that he almost stumbled over them: Please, I don't know how to do this, I don't know how to give myself away, but I want to, because I care for you, just not the right way, and you need to teach me how to love you - and the knowledge that it is all but an illusion, that he cannot be that person, leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.
For Magnus may be flamboyant and glittery and self-confident and out and proud and undaunted and all smiles, but the truth is that he has never been more afraid than he is now. Giving his heart away doesn't come easy to him either. The truth is, Magnus has been around for a long time, and he has been with a lot of people, most of which he doesn't even remember. There are a few names that ring a bell, but they are so scarce that he can count them with the fingers of one hand. He has always thought that he is an easy-going, carefree type who didn't have any qualms about falling in love, but now that he is lying here, he realises that he doesn't know all that much about love. In fact, it seems that Alec is more adept in this field than he is, because he has at least a vaguely functional family that he is able to love, whereas Magnus only ever pushed away those who became too important to him before they could hurt him.
And now he is lying here, broken open and stripped to the bone, and he is scared like he has never been before. For the first time, he has let himself fall in love (or maybe that just happened unconsciously, too fast for him to notice, too fast to stop before the damage was done), and it scares him shitless, because losing Alec will hurt like nothing ever hurt before, and he will lose him, one day or the other. Maybe in a few years, maybe in a couple of months, maybe tomorrow. Maybe Alec will die on the battlefield, or maybe he will just realise that Magnus is not what he thought he was and that he deserves so much better, and then he will leave and there will be nothing left but shattered pieces and hurt and loss.
Alec has already begun to understand, he thinks. He can see it in his piercing blue eyes, whenever the warlock's past is mentioned, or when his fingers trace the ugly scar than runs from his left shoulder down to his right hip – he remembers how surprised Alec was to see that Magnus has scars, too, but he doesn't yet know that the scars carved on his soul are far worse than that – the interrogatory look, the silent questions that Magnus refuses to answer, because he can't really ask an eighteen year old boy to carry the burdens of his past or to pick up and reconnect the pieces. These are topics that are left unspoken, lines that mustn't be crossed if they don't want to fall apart and be suffocated by their pain, just like Max's death or Alec's feelings for Jace. As long as they keep pretending, they can function.
But Magnus knows the times of pretending are almost over. Alec, who has not yet experienced the pain of losing someone you love (not in that way, at least), does not have as many doubts as Magnus does. He might not know how to give his heart away, but unlike Magnus, who is terrified by the mere thought of doing this, he is not afraid. Magnus almost envies his innocence and naivety.
It is a vicious cycle, Magnus determines. He does not want to let Alec in completely for the fear of getting hurt or scaring the shadowhunter away and losing everything he ever wanted. But if he doesn't, he will lose Alec anyway, and this won't hurt any less. He is forced to take a leap of faith he is not sure he can take, that he isn't sure he wants to take.
Alec shifts beside him, and Magnus raises his hand to caress his face, smoothing out the frown that creases his forehead, and presses a soft kiss to his temple. When he draws back, brushing a strand of hair out of Alec's eyes, he finds himself staring into ocean blue orbs that seem to look right into his soul.
Alec smiles and curls up into him.
A/N.: Reviews are lovely ;)