Magnus' POV

I sat in my father's office in utter shock, beginning to breath heavily. My mouth hung open wide and my eyes glared back at my father in confusion. I could not process the rest of my father's words as I attempted to speak my own.

"Magnus, are you listening to me?" my father, Victor Bane, asked.

"Yes, sir," I said. My mind finally began to understand his previous words. We are leaving New York, my home.

"We will be moving in two weeks. I'm sorry, Magnus. I know that this must be a surprise to you, but I hope that you will come to accept it," my father sternly said.

I looked down to the floor, suppressing the tears that wanted to escape my eyes. How can we leave New York? This is the most amazing place on Earth. The people, the noise, the fast passed lifestyle. I could not imagine living anywhere else.

"Sir, I can't just leave so suddenly! I have my life here! I have my friends here. My whole life is here," I frantically said.

I needed my father to understand that I could not leave.

My father took a deep breath in, releasing it slowly in order to keep his patience. He looked at me sternly, looking as cold and professional as he could.

"Magnus, do not be difficult. I need to move my company to Los Angeles. I need more room to expand my influence, which is not in New York anymore."

"But, sir-"

"No, my decision is final. You have not proven yourself responsible enough to be left on your own. I need to keep my eye on you, and in order to do that, you must come with me," my father muttered.

I kept my eyes on the floor, not wanting to look at his disappointed face. I understand that I have messed up in the past, but does that really mean that I have to be punished so severely?

"Father, I can't leave! What about NYU? I have plans," I pleaded with my father.

"Magnus, my decision is final. You will come with me to LA. You will attend your senior year at the neighboring high school. You can still go to college in New York, but you will attend high school in LA," my father said coldly.

I nodded my head, slowly looking at my father, who was sitting in his office desk. I noticed that he looked tired, rather cold and dead looking.

I slowly stood up, signaling to my father that I was leaving. Twisting my body, I quickly waltzed out of the office and towards the elevator door. I wanted to run, scream, and cry all at once. I couldn't do that though, at least until I was out of this building.

I really do hate my father. Not because he is forcing me to move across the country, but because he thinks that he knows me. Ever since my mother died, he cannot look at me with anything but sadness. I believe it is because I remind him of her. I don't blame him, I look just like her. I have her face, her tanned skin, and dark hair color. He never comes home anymore, living and breathing in his work. He has his own bed in his office, which is why I never see him. He can't even come home because it reminds him too much of my mother.

He thinks that he knows me, but he has never taken the time to actually spend time with me. Even when my mother was alive, he never took the time to know me.

I do miss my mom as well. She was the only person in my life that has ever understood me, truly understood me. After she died, I didn't come out of my room for weeks. Neither did my father.

The only way I could cope was to numb the pain away. I drank. I smoked. I partied. My life consists of sleeping all day and partying all night. My summer was full of this.

I ended up drawing more attention to myself, getting New York's wealthy youth to befriend me. Models, actors, and socialites all flocked to my parties. I had thousands of friends, hooking up with anyone that I wanted. Life was colorful and busy, yet I was numb. I liked it that way.

The attention allowed me to become the new "wild child." My father hated it, but I loved the attention. I became everything my father hated, and I was a disappointment to him and his reputation.

Paparazzi followed me everywhere; I was known to do crazy things and they loved it. Taking pictures of me throwing up in alleys after a rough night, pictures of me passing out, and pictures of me making out with everyone under the sun. I was a great subject for news. Because my father was the wealthiest man in New York, I became a prime target for attention. Being wild increased that attention.

I liked feeling that way because it kept the memories of the past suppressed.

I made my way to the elevator, pressing the main level button so I could get out of the horrid, grey office space. I needed to get home, to cry myself to sleep.
**********

"Hey, Magnus! Where are you at?"

I turned around to see what voice was speaking. "Over here!" I yelled back.

"Hey, Mags," my best friend Catarina said. She made her way over to my bed, sitting beside me.

Catarina has been my best friend since elementary school. I honestly cannot remember my life without her in it. She has seen me on my worst days and my best days. She was there for me when my mother passed; Catarina is the closest thing I have left to family. Since I live by myself, she has a key to my penthouse.

Catarina had her white hair pulled back into two french-braids, with some strands of hair framing her face. She wore an army green dress, with white sneakers, and a black bomber jacket.

Catarina noticed me examining her outfit. She stood up, beginning to slowly spin with her arms out. "So, is my outfit acceptable to your standards?"

I began to laugh. "Yes, I was just admiring it," I said.

We began to laugh as she sat back down besides me. Catarina is one of the only people that can make me feel one hundred times better. She just understands me.

We came down from our laughing high, making me grab her hands in mine. I needed to tell her everything my father told me, but I didn't want to cry. I needed to be strong.

"Magnus, what's wrong?" Catarina asked, squeezing my hands.

I looked her in the face with sadness. I knew that I would miss her so much.

"You remember how we saw that news article that said that my father was moving his business to California?" I asked. She nodded her head, answering a yes.

I clung onto her hands, not wanting to tell her. "Well, it's true. And he is forcing me to move with him."

I looked up into her sad eyes, glazed with confusion. She reminded me of what I pictured myself to look like when my own father told me the news.

"What? No..." she muttered.

I nodded my head. She flung her arms around my neck, embracing me into a desperate hug.

"You can't leave, Mags. You can't," she whispered into my shoulder. I could feel her shake as she hugged me tighter and tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Cat. I have no choice. He's giving me no choice," I pleaded.

She let go of my neck, keeping her hands gripped onto my arms. "But, you can't leave. It's going to be our senior year! What about all our plans? And what about NYU?" she quickly said.

I looked at her in confusion. "I honestly don't know what I am going to do. I want to stay so much, Cat."

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you. You can't stay?" She said, with hope in her eyes.

"My father said that I have to go. But, I will promise you that we will always be best friends. I will come back. I promise."

Catarina began to tear up, reaching me in for a hug again. I began to tear up and cry along with her.

Catarina and I sat there in my bedroom, hugging and crying as much as our bodies would allow us to. We both knew that time was not on our sides anymore. I would be leaving soon to Los Angeles with my father. I knew that even when I left the city, my heart would remain there.