Another completely unedited oneshot because that's how I roll. Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts; title taken from Demons by Imagine Dragons.
Where Your Demons Hide
It is hard and cold and heavy, heavier that he thought it would be, and his hand is shaking and that makes it worse. The rain is dripping cold onto his hair and down into his shirt but it doesn't matter, he's already soaked because he's been out here for a long time already. He doesn't know how long. It seems like forever.
He doesn't quite remember how he got up here but there are marks on his hands where the windowsill would go and a long scrape down from his shoulder to his elbow that has shingle bits in it. He hasn't bothered to wipe them away. He doesn't think it matters.
It's kind of funny, he thinks, that he's never liked guns because he thought they were cheating and now here he is on the roof with a gun in his hand. So funny. Ha ha ha. But the feeling in his stomach doesn't let him laugh.
He's been saying goodbyes, in his head. Goodbye Jace goodbye Isabelle goodbye Parents. Goodbye Institute. Goodbye everything I loved and everything I hated. Goodbye not fitting in, not being perfect.
Max I'm coming.
Goodbye Magnus.
That was the one that stuck, the goodbye Magnus. He keeps saying it just to hear it in his head. Goodby Magnus goodbye Magnus goodybyemagnusgoodbyemagnusgoodbyemagnus.
I love you.
It makes him sad, saying I Love You in his head when he never said it enough out loud. He wishes he had some way to make up for it.
He's said Goodbye Magnus and I Love You so many times now that it sounds like nonsense and it is time to go. If he doesn't go now he never will.
He closes his eyes tightly and listens to his heartbeat in his ears. It sounds like a bird trying to escape.
Soon little bird. Soon you will be free.
He raises the cold hard heavy gun to his head and squeezes his eyes tighter and concentrates concentrates concentrates he has to do this right he has only one chance and he has to do it right.
Running footsteps and a blow to the back and now someone else's hand closes over his that is holding the gun and it's pulling it away no no no don't do that give it back.
Give me the gun. Give me the gun, Alec, the words are slow and steady but there is panic in the voice and the hand is pulling harder now.
No I won't give it to you this is my chance don't take it please please don't take it. Flailing limbs curling and uncurling connect with something soft and there's a grunt of pain but the hand does not let go. Give me the gun, Alec, give me the gun.
No. I have to do this. I have to.
Give me the gun. The pressure on his hand is building and the rain makes it slippery and he can't hold on, it's sliding out of his grasp and he tries to keep it but he can't and he lets go.
No, no, no, no, he collapses against the shingles of the roof and curls into a ball, hiding from the rain and the failure and the man who saw him like this. How dare you let him see you. He'll think you are weak.
Alec.
Alec look at me. Look into my eyes. The voice is soft, worried, and Alec can't disobey it.
Magnus. He looks into the cat eyes and the words slip out before he can stop them. Do you think that I'm weak?
The cat eyes widen a little bit and then they look sad. No Alec. I do not think you are weak. Alec I've seen this look in your eyes for a long time and I've been worried but I do not think you are weak. I think you should have talked to me and I am sad that you didn't and I'm glad I caught you but I don't think you are weak.
He relaxes against the roof, going limp as all strength leaves his limbs and he is ashamed to find that he is crying. Magnus I love you.
I love you too Alec. I love you more than anything. Alec I know you, I know where your demons hide in the dark and whisper to you and I know what they say. Alec you are good enough you aren't a failure you aren't hated.
I'm not good enough I am a failure I'm not the son they wanted and they hate me for it and I let my brother die how can you call that success? The words spill out of his mouth, the words that have been hiding away in his head in the dark for so long. I'm better off dead can't you see it.
No Alec. Those are the demons talking. Those are the kind of demons that live in your head and you can't kill them with an angel blade. They hide there and I see them Alec I see them in there and there's nothing I can do. You need to fight them on your own.
I can't do it I can't because what they say is true I can't fight it.
No it's not true they lie Alec can't you see that they want you to believe it because they want you to be dead. Don't believe them Alec.
I can't fight them. It's too hard.
I know it looks too hard right now but believe me darling it's not. You're stronger than they are. Slay them Alec. Not with an angel blade but with your thoughts. You can do it Alec I believe that more than anything else. You can do it. You are stronger than your demons do you hear me?
He nods wearily, because though most of the words are slipping in one ear and out the other, he can recognize something in them that might, if he thought about it and let it grow, be truth.
Come on Alec let's get you out of the rain come back into the flat with me. I'll make you hot chocolate.
He follows him numbly into the flat, barely noticing when the gun goes flying through the air to land several streets over. He is still trying to process the thing that might be truth, that drives back the demons whispering in his ears.
Before he knows it he is sitting in the overstuffed chair in the den and the cat is purring and kneading his thighs and he is holding a cup of hot chocolate. He can't hear the demons for the first time in months.
And he knows that they'll come back because they never go away and maybe when they do he'll feel like this again but for now he is stronger than they are. Just for a few moments he is winning the battle.