His place was not there. His place was back at the Institute, in his dark room and under his warm covers. He hated New York's weather more than anything. Summers were absolutely dreadfully hot and winters were horrifically cold. He was tired of living in the middle of those extremes. And he was tired of waiting like a forgotten lover.

"Good colours. Good composition. A little too much ochre."

He was a hair length from snapping at Clary for being late, after she insisted for them to meet there. But the voice was a man's. Alec blinked, slow and turned. He expected anything, from a rich old man that thought he was funny to an annoying teen. Behind him was a man, in his early twenties and for the lack of a better word, he looked gorgeous. Alec didn't dare to look him up and down. He half hoped the stranger will find another lost soul to bother; he also hoped he will stay.

"Kerstin Brätsch outdid himself with this piece."

Alec stupidly blinked again. He had such a mesmerizing voice like he created spells while breathing, while telling the weather. Right, whatever the beautiful stranger said. He didn't answer.

"What do you think?" The stranger asked.

"Are you a stalker or an art critic?"

The man raised an eyebrow, but Alec could tell he wasn't insulted. He sat beside Alec, touched his hat and took it off. Alec could steal a glance of his hands. The stranger had darker skin which looked it was tanned. Alec wasn't too good with words. He wasn't the artist of the family or the anything special of the family. But for anybody who asked, the stranger skin was like caramel.

"What do you see?"

"Nothing. Circles? A lot of ink threw away?"

The stranger chuckled. Apparently, Alec was amusing. All his nineteen years of life and he had no clue.

"What do you see?" Alec asked, out of courtesy.

"A bloody big ship."

Alec raised his eyebrows and looked at the stranger, puzzlement in his features. The man looked at him, a soft smiling gracing his profile. Now, Alec had a reason to stare at him and he was even more beautiful. He wore black eyeliner. It was smudged and on any other being, it would make one look like a raccoon. But him, oh, he was just shining. His eyes were amber or no. Maybe gold? Or green? Alec couldn't decide. It seemed like the colours chose the man's eyes to clash, to fight, to win. Alec gulped, but tried to pick up himself.

"Are you trying to be funny, stalker?"

The stranger laughed, a rich sound with childish undertones, but utterly sincere. Beautiful.

"Oh, no. It was a reference." He smiled at Alec. "I just came back from London, saw the movie in the cinema." He shrugged. Alec nodded, with nothing else to do. "And I am not a stalker, Blue Eyes. My name is Magnus."

Air became foreign to Alec the second the name escaped the man's lips. It was fitting, just like his velvet blue jacket or leather red jeans. He looked like art.
"Magnus Bane." He continued. Great Destruction. Alec nodded again and gave his hand. He shook his hand, ignoring the feeling of pure magic that got in him, all the way to his toes. Was this love? The books, the ones Isabelle liked to read sometimes, talked about love like that: bolts of electricity, shivers, and butterflies. The real thing, however, was so much more intense. For instance, the butterflies were big and ferocious tigers, screaming in his body; and the shivers were like a cold winter wind, making his physique tremble with anticipation, with hope.

"And you, beautiful?"

Magnus' question brought Alec from his world of cliché romances.

"Alec."

The man raised an arched eyebrow. Alec could see that he had blue glitter on the eyeliner.

"Short for Alexander, I presume?"

Alec smiled. His full name sounded weird on Magnus' lips, but as alluring as everything he said. Magnus got closer to him and crossed his legs. Alec could feel his heat or it was just him, losing his mind over a guy he met at the museum. He forced a "yes". Magnus just smiled, traces of amusement on his face.

An easy silence fell on them, like a curtain after a great spectacle. Was that their end? Alec hoped with all his heart that he will see the man again. He stole another glance, just to confirm he was not hallucinating. But he was still there, in all his glory. He reminded Alec of Jace, heavenly beautiful and impossible to touch. Yet this man was there and all Alec had to do was raise his hand. Magnus was close enough that he could smell his perfume, cologne or whatever that masterpiece wore to make him more alluring.

"What about Friday?"

Alec looked at him, startled. His hand was halfway raised; it was a tragically half touch, maybe it was half a heartbreak too. Alec pulled back.

"What about it?" He asked. Or thought he did it. He realised it wasn't him, that he only thought the question because Magnus regarded him curiously.

"I—" He started.

"I said, what about Friday. Do you want to shag my brother?"

Alec blinked and became a cute shade of red. His eyes were down in an instant. He tried to say something, to repair the thing he had with Magnus. It was fragile before, but at the moment, his dear brother destroyed it, made it go down in flames.

"Excuse me, but I usually wait for after the first date to state my intentions with anybody's brother."

Alec blinked again and swallowed the words he wanted to say. He turned to his brother, his movements calculated and stiff.

"What are you doing here, Jace? And where is Cla-"

"Here. Sorry!"

Alec frowned and forgot all about Magnus when he saw the perfect golden couple. He swallowed again and took a deep breath.

"I should go."

Magnus' voice washed over him like a wave. He felt like the shore. What a pity the storm was right before his eyes. He almost jumped to his feet. Magnus was already up, with his obnoxious hat in his hands. Alec caught him by the hand. The man turned to him, a little confused, but very much interested. And Alec just watched him, without blinking, without failing.

"Friday. Six. Here?"

Magnus smiled and Alec found himself grinning too, incapable to stop himself. Magnus smelled of sandalwood, promise and magic.

"Sure thing, darling."

Magnus took his hand and kissed it. With a wink, he was gone, just like the heat and the tigers.

"Wait, Alec. You're gay?"

"Shut up, Jace."

Their voices were lost to his ears. He could feel only the paper that Magnus gave him when he kissed his hand. His heart was speeding, jumping and bleeding with an enthusiasm he didn't believe it was his own. He felt alive. He wanted to wait in that spot, until Friday rolled around until the clocks announced six. He grinned and shoved the paper with the man's number in his jacket. Maybe he should dress nice for him. Maybe he should thank Unstable Talismanic Rendering 27 for his date. Maybe he should fall in love with that beautiful man.