Note: I will update once a week for the next four weeks. There are four parts.
Part 1: Turn Away
Alec didn't, normally, drink. But he'd been alone with something too heavy still settling on his dying brain, and it had seemed appropriate. Dying, he had to snort to that. There had been a time when he thought he'd die, just a few years ago, back when Sebastian was still around. He'd been so certain of it, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he didn't have Magnus for certain then, or maybe it was something else. He didn't know, nor did he care to.
Alec was at a complete loss for everything, and so he drank. He took one of the bottles that he and Magnus kept around to sip at occasionally or party with and drank, because there was nothing else he could do. He knew Magnus would be home soon, and the thought terrified him. He'd have to tell Magnus, but not that night. He was still in shock himself, and couldn't bear explaining it to someone else.
It had just been... So quick. He should have seen it coming, with the bruises, but he... He just hadn't. He hadn't questioned it, like he should have. Angel, he was so stupid. Maybe if he had noticed it earlier, maybe there would have been a way to get help, or at least... Not have to talk to Magnus about it like he was going to. He couldn't do it, not then. It was too much for him to put on Magnus without having decided how he felt. He would just have to bite his lip and keep his thoughts to himself like he'd done before Magnus had taken the time to listen to him, which seemed like ages ago, and say he was fine when he was asked even if he wasn't.
There had never been a shadowhunter's crash course in shit like this. There had been a treating demon viruses class, but nothing so... Mundane. Gee, mundane. That's what he was now, wasn't it? Just another hollow face in the crowd of so many like him. Actually, the type he had was quite rare… But still, his body was fucking up, and it was more than just the stomach ache he had originally suspected. More than just the raised red-spots on his skin, more than just a fatigue that didn't like to go away. This wasn't fair. But then, when had anything ever been fair? He was just glad he'd gotten Magnus, at least. Magnus was more than a least, but… Alec didn't want to talk to the warlock, so he put away the bottle and climbed into bed, not bothering to brush his teeth. What's a few cavities? Nothing. Not when they'd all be rotten soon enough anyway.
He'd been having trouble the last week or two doing much of anything, finally getting bad enough to see a doctor… He wished he hadn't. He didn't want to know. He'd have to let everyone who mattered know, and he wouldn't be able to work for a while. Wouldn't be able to watch Jace's back, or make sure Isabelle got around well with her swollen belly. She'd be having that baby soon enough, too soon, it seemed. Her and Clary, mothers together. He wasn't having a baby, thank the angel, just… needing to go to the doctor for a different, entirely, horribly different, reason.
Alec crawled into the bed, pulling up the blankets so he could curl in them, wincing as he moved his stomach wrong, yet too tired to do more than that. The trip to the doctor's office, then to the hospital and the pharmacy, had taken more energy than it should have. He hoped Magnus would know better than to wake him. Magnus thought he was sick, sick with something normal, so he probably wouldn't… Alec almost wanted to cry. But why? It was too much work. He didn't want to think about it now. So he closed his eyes and let himself shut down, because if tomorrow were to really come then he'd deal with everything then. He'd figure out what to make of his ruined life.
And eventually, tomorrow did come, and Alec didn't make it to the institute. He called and told them that he was sick again, but that he might be in the next day. He was still recovering, he told them. They said that they needed him there. He knew that. But he needed another day to process, to think. Then he'd go back to work and maybe pretend for a little bit that nothing was wrong. He'd tell Magnus at the end of the week. He'd smile, as much as he could, he'd pretend that everything was fine and no one would ask any questions. They would never think that things could be bad enough for them to have to intervene, and he liked it that way.
His shit was his shit.
He spent the day in a mix- alone, and with Magnus. He told his golden eyed boyfriend that the doctor's visit had been fine. Isabelle and Clary didn't visit for fear of getting ill themselves, and taxing their pregnant bellies, so it was just him when Magnus got called away to work. Him and a settling weight on his mind. Yes, he'd go to the institute the next day, he'd pretend things were fine. Then when he asked Magnus how his day went, he'd let the warlock rant. Then, when the warlock had calmed down, he'd tell him. That was how it was supposed to go.
He wasn't supposed to wake up with Magnus holding an orange bottle of white-labeled medication in his hand, he thought he'd hidden those, with a scowl on his face. Magnus knew they weren't for a cold or whatever bullshit he'd been spewing. He asked, with a tint of impatience, for Alec to explain what exactly these meeds were (and if they were legal).
"Magnus," Alec had sighed. It was then or never, he reasoned. "I… I have T-cell prolymphocytic leukemia."
Magnus had frowned, his lips settling for a minute, his shoulders sagging a bit. He knew it was bad. "What does that mean for us?"
Alec had chuckled, a bit bitterly. "It means that in four months, there won't be an 'us.'"