Summary: Alec was never fond of photography...But over time, he's learned that the photos are all he has left.
Author's Note: I don't know who I find funner to write...Alec or Magnus. I guess I love them both equally.
Fuel to the Fire was in Magnus's POV, and now we have something in Alec's.
Status: One-Shot.
Photographs
Alec was never one for photography.
But through the years, with Magnus as his boyfriend, it really didn't matter if he was into something or not, because sooner or later, Magnus would get him into doing what he wanted, regardless of whether Alec liked it or not.
And he didn't really complain most of the time; he just went with whatever plans Magnus had. Maybe he put his foot down a few times, but almost all the time he just followed Magnus.
Because in the end, he would enjoy it, anyway. It didn't matter if he didn't really like it, with Magnus, he enjoyed it.
Photography was one of those things he wasn't very interested in before. Magnus had insisted, though, that they take pictures at every possible moment.
And Magnus could even make them move. It amused Alec now as he stared down at one particular photograph of him and the warlock.
Magnus was laughing, the camera catching him mid-laughter, one arm slung around Alec while Alec ducked his head, laughter coming up.
"A precious moment." Magnus had said once it magically developed. He plucked it out of the air and then waved it around for a bit, red sparks coming down before he showed it back to Alec. And then it was moving.
"The most precious moments don't need to be captured by a camera," Alec said after a few more weeks of endless photographs. They had over a dozen of photo albums already, and Magnus wasn't the type to really get into digital. He liked the hard-copy.
"But I just love looking at your pictures when you're gone…" Magnus had countered, a sly look in his eyes. "And I have a special album that is for my eyes and my eyes alone." And he raised both eyebrows with a wiggle.
Alec flushed.
The memory managed to make him smile, before it hurt and he had to drop it again, along with the picture.
The next picture he picked up wasn't moving. A picture of him and Magnus – the warlock's lips pressed against his cheek as Alec looked a bit confused at the camera.
And Alec remembered that moment. He remembered how Magnus had proposed they take a 'selca' – self camera – and not do it by magic. And so they did. But at the last second, Magnus turned his head and then his finger came down with a click of the camera.
It was cute, Alec had to admit.
Then there were a few dozen more pictures laid out on his bed.
He didn't really understand why Magnus would want all these pictures…Not before. Why he kept stack-high of albums of just him and Alec?
Whenever he asked Magnus about it, Magnus would just laugh.
"You think my obsession with our pictures is as much as my love for glitter?"
"You have hundreds…Can't we take just one picture per special occasion?"
"Every moment is special with you."
"…Do you have pictures of me asleep?"
"That's stalker-ish, Alexander. I'm appalled."
"Sorry…"
"I mean, we live together. I don't need to stalk you. And I don't need your permission to take pictures while you're asleep."
"What?"
"I told you to kiss me. Why aren't we already kissing?"
"…Nice save."
But now, as Alec sifted through the photo albums and the photographs that scattered on his bed, he thought he understood.
He didn't have the strength to look at them. Not after Magnus had gone. After Magnus had died. It was ironic. Alec never imagined what it would be like if he was the one to live longer than Magnus. Not in the sense that he'll live for over nine hundred centuries, but really, just not die first.
It was a horrible joke. Heaven was probably having a good laugh. Or maybe all the Cosmic beings up there.
Magnus had died. Had died a year and a half ago.
And Alec…Alec couldn't believe it. Magnus Bane was strong. The Highest Warlock Alec had ever known.
The best…The most loving, the most caring, the funniest, the tenderest, the gentlest, the most sarcastic warlock…His warlock.
Alec, at first, hated the photographs. He had left Isabelle the day after the funeral and chose to come back to their shared apartment. And had found the stack of albums by the corner, under the tables, under their bed, inside the closet…Basically just everywhere.
The pictures taunted him. It showed him what he once had. The happiness they both shared. It showed him of his past, and of how it was so good…Of how it was perfect.
It was like a slap in the face.
He saw his picture with Magnus, hung up just above the dining table, and he cringed.
Isabelle had taken all the albums and placed them in a box and pushed it to the farthest corner of the closet. She knew Alec. She knew something was wrong when her brother would cringe even if his glance strayed on an old picture.
But Alec had taken the box out, had laid all the albums on the floor and the photographs in the smaller boxes on the bed.
He saw pictures of just mostly him. Him coming up the stairs. Looking up at the sky. Falling into the lake. Getting drenched. And then a third picture of a drenched Magnus, not very pleased at Alec dragging him into the water, too.
The pictures passed his hands, the pages of the album flipped through. And most of them were filled of him – Alec Lightwood. Full of his pictures.
There were a few other albums, of course. Albums filled with both of their pictures – their "Couple pictures, awww!" as both Isabelle and Clary had gushed when they stumbled upon them that one Christmas morning.
But then it dawned on Alec.
These were Magnus's way of keeping Alec with him. Always. And Alec, feeling like pins had started to drop in his stomach, finally understood why Magnus had clicked away with his camera and magicked some pictures into moving.
The photographs would be his only reminder of Alec when Alec died.
But that was ironic. Because it was Alec who was sifting through them without Magnus beside him, pointing out funny pictures and reminiscing about that one time Alec almost fell down the Eifel Tower after they both snuck up to the top and of how he was just so dazed after their kiss that he almost toppled over.
It wasn't fair.
Alec found the pictures in his hand slipping from his grasp. Some of them fell to the floor as he slumped down.
It wasn't fair that he was the one doing this. It wasn't fair that it was Magnus who died first, who left him with all of this.
This was supposed to be Magnus's. This was supposed to be what the warlock would be doing after Alec died, he would look at them and remember. Not the other way around. If Alec had known about their true purpose…Then he would have gotten a camera of his own.
But then that would only mean that both of them were waiting for each the others death.
Surely that was not what Magnus had meant. And it wasn't. Magnus…Magnus just liked to capture every special moment, even if it was almost every waking moment. Because as he had claimed – Every moment with the Shadowhunter was special.
"I remember," Alec said, and he brushed his knuckle on his cheek, wiping away the tears, drying the dampness.
Alec Lightwood was not fond of photography. But his late lover, Magnus Bane, was. And they had taken hundreds – maybe even thousands – of photographs together.
That was all Alec had left of Magnus now. Their pictures, and of course, the memory of what they had. The fire that Magnus had started inside his heart was still burning.
The photographs were not just proof of what they had. They were a reminder.
But as Alec closed the last album, a ghost of a smile on his face, he remembered what he had said that one time –
Precious moments aren't timed, or anticipated. They're not captured in film, are they?
Every second with you is precious, though, Alec, love.
Author's Note: It felt horrible when I had to write thinking: Magnus is dead here. Magnus is dead. Magnus died. OMG how could you kill him!
I argue with myself a lot...
Oh well. Tell me what you think in a review?