Inspired by "The Last" from Wong Fu Productions—though the concept of the 5 W's is used somewhat differently and I have added an H.
Because I couldn't find any other Mortal Instruments couple I ship more fitting for this plot that just popped into my head, and the Malec break-up was really heartbreaking...
...ooOoo...
Just Like Grandma and Grandpa
For five heavenly seconds, they hear nothing but the familiar sound of their uneven breaths reverberating through their ears; feel nothing but the familiar vibration of their uneven heartbeats racing through their chests; and, altogether, sense nothing but all the familiar unevens that used to so easily give them warmth and satisfaction when they were still together. And, for a fleeting moment, they find that these still do.
But there is a shadow of doubt—of fear recent events have made impossible not to haunt between them.
Seconds ago, when the Shadowhunter had suddenly appeared from behind and gently but swiftly pulled the Warlock close against him to an embrace while he was changing in his bedroom, the Warlock—though evidently surprised—did not even scream. But the first thing they both thought of was to make sure to keep their eyes closed. The last thing they wanted to face was pain and desire in each other's eyes that might possibly bring more of it. After all, it has been months since they last saw each other, and the last was certainly not the most pleasant one. What followed was a miserable period of distance and concealment, which were even more torture than their breakup. Although they knew these were for the best, just for five brief but meaningful seconds, they wanted a time-out—a temporary escape from reality.
For a moment, they get exactly what they wanted. It is as if their distance has disappeared, and they can trust each other once more. But the older of them, naturally wiser, knows everything is too good to be true. He hesitates, but eventually, he is first to open his eyes to the large and classy Victorian floor mirror in front that reflects their image from three sides.
He allows his eyes to feast on the handsome creature behind him first. In his V-neck gray tee, dark skinny jeans and army boots, Alexander Lightwood, though not the fashionista, looks effortlessly smoldering as usual. As his gaze shifts to Alec's face, looking peaceful and beautiful against his bare back, he feels a sudden regret over his indiscretion. A wave of emotions rushes in—exasperation, horror and... hope.
He looks away immediately.
Alec, sensing the rapid movement as well as the sudden increase in Magnus' respiration, finally opens his eyes too though he keeps his arms around Magnus. Seeing his shirtless companion's muscular abdomen, he cannot help a little grin. "Been working out?" he asks as casually as he could, trying not to look at Magnus in the eye as much as possible.
Magnus opens his mouth for a usual witty reply but closes it just as quickly, shaking his head. It has been months since they had last seen each other, and this is the first thing his ex-boyfriend tells him? He wants to ask him whether he was being serious and if he was an idiot, but he decides not to.
"Alexander... What are you doing here?" he whispers instead. This time, he dares his eyes to wander back to Alec's face, just to see how the Shadowhunter reacts.
He starts by studying Alec's mouth, which has opened but without any sound coming out, as if strugging for a reply. Then, his gaze moves up to Alec's cheeks. They look contracted and flushed, but quite still as if to show some sort of resolution. Then, slowly, as his eyes travel up to Alec's luscious dark brown eyes—
"I love you," Alec says, and their eyes meet in the mirror.
Much to Alec's relief, there is—although merely a slight—quiver from Magnus. At least, even the littlest reaction is better than nothing. Instinctively, he tightens his embrace and presses his face against the Warlock, who looks grave and stunned.
Those are exactly the three words Magnus has been dreading to hear the most. As much as he wants to say the same thing in return, he knows he cannot. He shuts his eyes back close and shakes his head in agony. This would have given him delight months ago, but now, all he finds is the most fearsome apprehension he has successfully evaded until now.
Carefully, he removes the callused but gentle hands that clung onto his waist and sent him shivers. "Alec, don't," he says softly, the pain evident in his voice. "How can you expect me to trust you after what happened?"
"Because whatever stupid thing I did was all for you... For us... Because I love you," Alec replies simply, as he looks at Magnus in the mirror. When the Warlock only returns a disheartened look, he takes a few steps backward, just enough to create a distance between them and pauses.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me," he continues, still flushing. "I'm asking you to let me come back to you... To be with you. Because you know more than I do that whatever idiotic thing I did was all out of love anyway."
Magnus' face tightens, but he keeps his eyes down. "You may be right," he says, but he shakes his head. "Unfortunately, I'm not as convinced as I want to be."
To his surprise, the Shadowhunter grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around. Before he knows it, his cat-like eyes are penetrated by the Shadowhunter's dark blue ones. A second later, he is pressed against one of the walls of the little black room.
"Then let me convince you," he is told.
He does not know why, but he suddenly finds himself drawn to the exquisite man before him more than ever. He keeps himself mum just to savor the eyes he has longed to see for days now.
"Close your eyes," Alec orders.
He closes them. He knows he is getting himself into trouble, but he obeys anyway. He feels Alec's warm hands touch his cheeks, and he shudders.
Alec, nervous but determined, closes his eyes as well and presses his forehead lightly against Magnus'. He removes his hands from Magnus' face and places his right palm against the Warlock's chest. Magnus gives him a low moan, as he works his hand delicately around the smooth, muscular chest until his hand rests where the strongest throb can be felt.
"This is something my nana used to do with Izzy and me," he murmurs. "Just relax, okay?"
Amidst the cold airconditioning, they feel an electric heat build up between them inside. It feels slow and playful, and the vibration they feel, as if trying to escape them, eventually settles onto one of them—Alec. This leaves Magnus' body in a sudden low, icy temperature. Alec feels a sudden chill as well, but the icy feeling quickly takes refuge in Magnus.
Sweat begins to trickle down their faces. As both of them shiver over their extreme excess of opposite temperatures, Alec's free hand quickly takes one of Magnus' cold ones and plants it onto his warm chest.
Slowly, they feel their temperatures amalgamate, as the weathers inside their bodies circle through their arms and chests in more vibrations. The vibrations stop, and they feel a rush of comfortable warmth between them. As they open their eyes, they see beautiful rays of silver and gold lights intertwined surrounding them. Some are in the shape of bubbles.
"Memory lights," Magnus gasps at the wondrous sight. "I haven't seen them in two hundred years."
Alec raises his head. "Beautiful, aren't they?" he says happily. "You're not the only one who can do magic."
"This isn't magic," Magnus corrects him. "It's a rare summoning skill only the children of Raziel have."
The Shadowhunter shrugs and smiles. "Look at our arms."
The Warlock drops his head and looks even more astonished. Their arms were shining with intricate gold and silver Shadowhunter symbols tattooed on them. He realizes they are the source of the lights that are enveloping them right now. As he lowers his head further to get a better glimpse of the runes, they emit a huge flash of blinding white light, and he shuts his eyes close reflexively.
He feels himself vacuumed into the light. Surprised, he opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. He frowns—not in fear but in confusion. What is happening? He tries to open his eyes, but he cannot do so without feeling pain. A haze of colorful images appears over the whiteness before him.
He hears a voice. Alec, perhaps? He calls out his name, when realizes that his companion sounds different. The pitch seems irregular—ranging from low to high that it almost sounds like a fresh adolescent boy's. Furthermore, he and Alec are not alone; besides the child's innocent tone, he also hears a croaky voice that of an old woman's.
The image gradually appears clearer and clearer. Eventually, he finds a little Alec seated beside a bedridden old woman resembling Isabella, who must be Alec's grandmother. He must be witnessing a memory, he thinks.
"Nana... Nana. What are you thinking of? Are you alright?" the little Alec cries, as he lightly shakes the old woman. A little smile escapes Magnus' mouth. Young Alec looked adorable in his little jumper, which told everyone he was still a kid despite his growing face.
"Oh, yes child," his grandmother replies slowly. "I was just remembering your grandpa. He was such a sweet man."
Alec exhales a sigh of relief and gives her a dorky grin. "I bet he was. Mom said he loved you very much."
She returns a weak nod and a smile. "He was and he did."
"Did he send you flowers, give you kisses and all those mushy things?"
This time, she laughs. "Mushy? As a matter of fact, he did. But those, dear, were not how he convinced me he loved me," she tells him and muses at the ceiling.
"People in love often think that action speaks louder than words, but the truth is there are times words play far more importance to a relationship. Sometimes what other people want are just reassurances," she says.
Alec waves his hand over her blank eyes, the boy looking half-amused and half-worried. "I don't get it, Nana. Is this something new you can teach me?" he asks.
His grandmother, broken out of her reveries, shifts her tired eyes back at him lovingly. "Maybe you're far too young to understand, but let me show you anyway," she answers.
Carefully, she lifts a hand and presses it against Alec's chest. The little boy automatically does the same to his grandmother, and she smiles as an elder does when a child does something clever or good. "After all," she continues, "we don't know if we'll ever get the chance to do this again. Here, my fondest memory with the man I loved most..."
As they both close their eyes, the image in front of Magnus fades into a blank white screen once more. For a while, he sees nothing except two long, blurry shadows. Hoping they will sometime come clear, he remains still and calmly waits.
He hears some nostalgic music play concurrently: Sinatra, Kelly, Monroe and so much more. Rainbow colors splash into view, but the shadows end up only looking worse. All the colors begin to distort into a very badly painted image, but at least he can already make out some of the things. The green becomes trees outside the blue, which looks like windows. The orange looks like brownish walls while the red looks like a telephone.
In the middle of them all, the shadows slowly form into a woman's and a man's. The woman has her hands on her hips while the man looks like he is holding something circular and yellow in his hands. The shape of the woman's dress and the man's hat tell Magnus they are from the 40s or the 50s, and he smiles—it is, after all, one of his favorite eras.
To his dismay, the view in front of him now is as far as the image goes. He curses at the limit of the memory lights. The image stays as still as a painting, and he begins to hear voices—probably Alec's grandparents', he guesses.
"Mr. Trueblood," he hears Alec's grandmother shout with a younger voice that is naturally less husky and more full of life.
"Mr. Trueblood, stop right there," the woman shouts again. This time, he hears footsteps as well. She must be chasing after the man.
"I said stop right there Mr. William Trueblood," she orders, and Magnus smiles amusedly. She has the same saucy, annoying tone Isabella usually vents out when demanding something.
The tapping of the shoes on the wooden floor ceases abruptly. "What is your problem now, woman?" the man, who is probably Alec's grandfather, asks. The man's voice is deep and raspy, but the tone he uses, like those country singers, sounds meaningful enough that it's hard to dislike him.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Where do I think I'm going? Well where do you think I'm going? Elsewhere I tell you! Anywhere but here!"
"But I thought you said my place was the best there is. That you can't keep yourself from coming back," she says with a softer and gentler voice this time.
"That was before you got all stony-faced about my ring. Well, you know I'm a man of pride, and a man of pride I am. I won't stay here humiliated in front of you and your family after chasing after you for years."
"Well what did you expect? A ring alone does not sound at all that romantic. Don't ya think you could've put at least a speech with it? I mean you do love me, but you've never said why. You're a journalist. Just say something."
"You're sillier than I thought Mary. Why did I have to say why when it's all there already?
"You, Mary. You are why I love you. And it's not just why. I love you because you are who, what, when, where, why and how—the very things that make me love you.
"Who you are Mary, is Mary—the first, finest and rest assured last lass to ever make me fall head over heels. What you are—well that's easy. You're the girl of my dreams! When you are—well whenever you're around, I just can't seem to look at other girls in the eye anymore, and it's a real problem because my pals are beginning to get bored with me if you know what I mean. Where you are—wherever you are, I just always want to be there with you. Why—why you're the reason why I'm making a fool of myself all the time, but I never seem to feel bad about it, do I? And how—how you are Mary, is just... Ridiculously... I—I just can't live without you... I mean—I... I don't know. Why are you always making my life so miserable?"
For a brief moment, there is a pause between the two lovers.
"Gosh, William," Mary says. "I was only kidding you there."
"Well, you didn't seem like it... So what about that ring?"
"A perfect fit," Mary finally says, and she giggles. The sound of her giggles gradually decreases in volume, signaling Magnus the end of the memory.
As Magnus opens his eyes again, he finds himself back in the bedroom decades later, with the elder Mary and her grandson. The two Lightwoods are in still the same position, but their eyes are open. The memory lights surrounding Alec and Mary look like they are shrinking back to their gold and silver-lighted arms. Displayed across the woman's old, wrinkled face is a look of pure happiness, the very kind, Magnus notes sadly, he has always longed to have.
"He made a beautiful speech without knowing it. It was the best one I've ever heard in my life," she says and cups the cheeks of Alec, who looks fascinated. "Who, what, where, when, why and how. I want you to remember these when you think about love."
Alec nods. "Who, what, where, when, why and how," he repeats slowly, emphasizing each word.
Mary's smile widens. "That's right," she says and lowers her voice into a whisper, "these and the power of memory are the only things you truly need when it comes to loving someone.
"Time will come when you will understand this completely. I want you to use these only then when you've found the right person—the person you truly love and want to spend the rest your life with."
"Just like you and Grandpa?"
"Just like me and Grandpa."
Alec grins. "Then it's a promise," he declares.
Mary smiles and pats him on the head. "Now," the she croaks, "What else do you want to know?"
Slowly, the image fades along with Mary's and young Alec's voices. As everything turns bright white, Magnus feels himself being sucked out by another vacuum. The whole thing takes only a few seconds, and before he knows it, he sees it again—the white light. But this time, he feels strangely more... comfortable.
Rapid moving pictures flash before him. Another memory to show him, he guesses. Unlike Alec's colorful memory with Mary, however, the cloudy colors are mostly dark ones—gray and black. But there are also some, which protrude spectrums of brights—club parties, he supposes.
He begins to wonder what more Alec has to show him. The slide show that has been playing repeatedly slows down, and he sees the memory—the party when they first met, but from Alec's point of view.
He recalls that very time that the moment his eyes laid upon the Shadowhunter, he knew there was going to be a connection. But he also knew that the Lightwood kid had only eyes for Herondale, so it was a bit of a bitter inconvenience then. He wonders when he had ever been so impatient and eager.
The electronic dance music in the background awakens him from his pensive state. There, he sees himself standing by the staircase studying the Shadowhunter guests by the entrance, his eyes particularly on his redhead client. Then, he checks out his prospective boyfriend then, and his eyes widen.
Past Alec Lightwood, whom he always thought had eyes for nobody but Jace Wayland then, was actually staring at him—the past Magnus. He gapes at the scene in disbelief. Was Alec checking him out even before the latter hit on the former? But then maybe it was for Clary; he was, after all, the reason they attended the party.
Suddenly, he hears the present Shadowhunter speak.
"Who you are, Magnus Bane, is the sexiest, hippest and handsomest High Warlock I've ever known. The first time I saw you, I was ashamed to admit that I was actually attracted to you. It was a momentary hope for me—hope to get over Jace. But you were a Downworlder, and I didn't think there was any possibility for us, yet..."
Yet what, he wants to ask, but the scene instantly changes.
He sees himself healing Alec, who was poisoned by the Greater Demon after helping Jace and Clary retrieve the Mortal Cup. As the past Magnus walks towards the door to get something, Alec's eyes open, and the Shadowhunter looks at the Warlock walking away. It is a look of longing, marked with pain and... wonder.
"I couldn't forget you because of what you are," Alec's voice-over continues. "You are a High Warlock, and an amazing and timeless one. In one night, you began changing my life, my soul, and my heart. You were patient with me even though I was still hung-over Jace. You knew I was in love with someone else, but you loved me anyway. Maybe it was because you knew I had no chance with Jace, but I'm grateful for that anyway..."
As past Magnus closes the door behind him, the scene distorts once more.
This time, he finds himself in that time he was wounded, as he fought alongside Alec against Valentine's army. Past Alec, all bloody here and there, stays by his side, as he passes out. The surroundings are dangerous and violent, but crazy past Alec wastes their precious time that could be used to their escape by embracing him.
"Where you are is always by my side. You were there for me whenever I needed you," Alec says, as he stirs the Warlock's recollection.
Then, Magnus remembers all the craziness he had with Alec—all those times they got into life and death situations, and all Alec talked to him about was them and their silly love quarrels. He swears under his breath. They were such a corny couple.
Alec's voice becomes shaky. "You were there when I fell out of love, when I needed love and when I just went through hell. And now you're everywhere around me, Magnus. Everywhere."
As Alec speaks, the view starts to shake, and suddenly the place seems to be in a dangerous earthquake. He's being too emotional, Magnus thinks. Multiple pictures spring into place, and the sounds of different memories fuse into an overwhelming noise. The Warlock blinks several times in an attempt to opens his eyes, but he can't.
He continues seeing so many pictures—all with he and Alec together: the time they went together on a vacation, the time they went on their first date, the time they first held hands, the time Alec introduced him to his parents... Each of them lasts only for seconds, he barely even has time to know what to feel.
Then, without warning, the photons altogether form a huge, golden flash, and the setting switches to Magnus' place. He sees the two of them in bed together, hidden under covers—the first time they slept together. All they actually did was cuddle after he showed off some magic—something he imagines only people like Lewis would do, but he did it anyway, and it meant a lot. He remembered they spent the night just talking, and when they were not doing so, they contented themselves with just looking at each other and contemplating—or it was just him when Alec had already been sleeping.
The scene changes abruptly to the morning just hours before Alec met with Camille. Past Alec is lying sideways with his head resting on his arm just above past Magnus' sleeping face. The Shadowhunter gazes at the Warlock with eyes of mixed emotions—love, tenderness, hatred, frustration, jealousy, but most of all... desire.
Magnus sees the pain in the Shadowhunter's eyes and looks away. If only Alec hadn't been such a fool...
"When you are, Magnus—well you're immortal," the Shadowhunter now speaks again. There is fear in his voice, but there is also determination.
When Magnus looks back, he witnesses for a short while the greedy exchange between Alec and Camille.
"And that just connects us to how you are, Magnus. You are a freakin' drug to me. I can't stand the idea of losing you, or leaving you."
Idiot, he thinks, as he listens to their conversation with disgust and, he has to admit, some sort of happiness he knows he should not feel. This boy will only bring him harm, pain that will keep him away from the greatest city in the world for centuries, yet for some reason he remains powerless against the former.
"You make me crazy, paranoid and insecure, but you also make me feel loved, happy and just... full," Alec says.
He sees their break-up, the miserable look on Alec's face, and the deplorable state of the Shadowhunter afterwards. He remembers how difficult it was for him to do it—to break up with the man he loved so much. But if this man cannot trust him, what is the use of their relationship?
Before he knows it, his eyes are back wide open again.
He does not realize his eyes are wet when he sees Alec, whose eyes are still shut and looks tranquil. Expecting the memory lights to wane any moment now and unable to move his other arm, Magnus moves the arm with the hand against Alec's chest wanting to wipe his eyes, but Alec suddenly grips that arm tightly still to stop him.
"It's not over yet," Alec mumbles, gazing at the shocked Warlock with an irresistible look of nervousness and desire. "I haven't convinced you yet, have I?"
Magnus can only stand stupefied in perturbation. He knows it. He knows what is about to happen, what Alec is about to pull off and what he is about to regret in the future—unless he stops it. He knows he can, he knows he has the time and the power to do it, yet—
"Close your eyes," Alec says.
And he does nothing but obey once more. But this time, there are no lights, no flashes, no blurry colors—just his eyes closed.
"And why you are—you are why—why, why love exists for me. You are why I realized Jace is just a parabatai, and true love is an entirely different matter. You are why I couldn't eat or sleep these past few days. You are why I have become so selfish; why I'm standing here and saying these to you right now even though what I did was unacceptable and you have no reason to accept me."
He sees everything Alec says—Alec quarreling with Jace, Alec suffering from lack of food and insomnia and Alec plotting reconciliation with him, and then—
He suddenly feels an insurmountable pain in his chest made worse by his irritating eyes, and he wills them to open. As they do, he sees that the memory lights, which are supposed to be in the midst of shrinking back, are no more, and it is only Alec talking.
The Shadowhunter, sensing his companion's frantic movements, finally opens his eyes too. He looks flushed and sweaty but also contented and somehow accomplished. He smiles a little. "Magnus, you are who, what, where, when, why and how I love," he says softly.
"I don't know if I'm even making sense right now," he continues, as he removes his hand from Magnus' chest and pulls himself away, "but I love you."
The last three words deliver the final blow to the Warlock, but he keeps himself composed. He looks at Alec, who is waiting for a reply, for a few seconds and then looks away. This, however, does not worry Alec; after all, silence could mean anything. Though Magnus appears tired, he is contemplating, the Shadowhunter thinks, which is a good thing.
But the waiting is torture.
As anxiety looms over the two of them, they suddenly feel it again: the feeling that time seems to have stopped; that nothing else matters but the two of them. Alec sees nothing but Magnus, and Magnus feels nothing but Alec. Their silence becomes an asylum; if only everyday could be this way for both of them...
But finally, Magnus speaks. "That last part," he says, as he returns his gaze to Alec, "that 'why' wasn't a memory anymore, was it?"
"No. Whatever you saw was probably a product your own subconscious," Alec replies, choosing his words carefully; Magnus could have seen anything. "That could mean something from your memory or you own desire."
Magnus looks at the ceiling for a moment, his eyes sparkling. "When you were speaking your last words of 'why', I saw something that struck me hard," he explains, refusing to look at Alec in the eye. He does not know it, but he smiles. "I saw the two of us in the Trueblood Memorial. We were visiting Mary and William. We looked happy."
When Alec does not say anything in return, the Warlock looks him in the eye, and the latter's smile disappears. "But I also saw you in your old age while I remained the same."
The Shadowhunter looks sad for a second, but only shakes his head at the revelation. "It doesn't matter. We will be happy anyway," he says firmly, hoping to convince Magnus that he has indeed accepted their fate if there should really be no solution to the Warlock's immortality. Ever since their break-up, he has abandoned the idea of doing anything that would displease Magnus, including the matter that caused their separation. "Just like Grandma and Grandpa," he adds.
Magnus gives him only a look of pure sadness—sadness that told him that gave him less hope. "I don't know what to say," the Warlock replies sincerely.
Yet, the somber face does not blind Alec from the hint of regret in those cat-like eyes only desire can induce. So the Shadowhunter braves himself up even further. "Tell me you love me," he says, feeling his cheeks flush and tighten as he did so.
The command successfully echoes to Magnus' ears like a tempting melody. He knows he wants to do it; he knows his heart tells him he should do it, but his mind tells him not to; it is an action that somehow confirms their reconciliation. He ought to be careful. "But why should I?" he asks. "After all that has happened?"
"Because I love you and you love me," Alec answers simply.
Magnus sighs. It is an answer so true, so evident, but also so lacking of the reassurance he seeks. He feels his blood boil and his nerves wreck, as he discreetly surveys the man before him again from head to toe. Just what is it about Alexander Lightwood that makes he, Magnus Bane, the famous Warlock of all people, so compulsive? Is it Alec's silky, dark hair that no matter how messy and, he suspects, untrimmed still looks so fascinating? Is it his innocent-looking blue eyes that look so young, so full of hope yet also so well-informed, as if there is wisdom to mark a glint of pain in his gaze? Or is it his Marked skin, whose mere touch—gentle yet crafty; shy yet persuasive—could send forth the biggest and most delightful effect on Magnus?
Without knowing it, his mouth opens out and blurts out, "I know."
Their eyes both widen at the reply—the Shadowhunter's in hope while the Warlock's in incredulity. There it is—the truth, the answer, the reality—revealed to Magnus by his own subconscious. No matter how much he tries to deny it, no matter how hard he tries to stay away, he will always accede to Alexander Lightwood because it is in his nature. And he gives up: Magnus Bane loves Alexander Lightwood.
Dead air travels between them, as they both process what just happened. The Shadowhunter only looks stunned while the Warlock remains contemplative. Will Alec ever hurt him again? Yes. Annoy him? Certainly. Make his life a living hell? Without a doubt—but maybe a heavenly hell at that. After all, these imperfections are probably in the only ways that will be able satisfy the standards of the Warlock. And, he missed some of them—those times when he had to teach Alec what to wear to look more gorgeous; when he had to wake Alec up on the sofa after watching his favorite soap opera with him because the drooling has already annoyed Chariman Meow, who likes sitting below them; and when he had to wake up in the middle of Heaven knows what time just to save the Shadowhunter from trouble.
"All right," he says softly to break the ice. "You win. Although I'm older than them, and it's weird for me to say this because I should be the example, let's be them—just like Grandma and Grandpa."
As he raises his hands in surrender, the Shadowhunter suddenly squeezes him in an embrace, and he closes his eyes. Everything about Alec—his warmth, his smell, his touch—suddenly feels a thousand times better than it did before.
"I've missed you," Alec mumbles in Magnus' ear, the Shadowhunter's breath so tasty and his voice so compelling. The Warlock gently locks his arms around Alec as well and brushes a hand to the Shadowhunter's hair.
"Me too."
Holding Alec close in his arms, Magnus eyes his bedroom for a second and silently thinks to himself, with a look like Mary's in the memory, that it is time to change the gothic Victorian interior. Meanwhile, Alec, tired but happy from the result of his gambles, keeps himself close to his now official boyfriend again.
In spite of the dark walls, everything suddenly looks brighter. Plans begin to formulate in their minds; they both know they want to do so much more together—things they have not done in a while now and things they have yet to do. To begin with, Magnus wants Alec to help him wear this brand new expensive top he has bought for a party later. But, for now, they content themselves with just their current simple but gratifying state.
And for five heavenly seconds, they hear, feel and altogether sense nothing but all the familiar warmth from each other once more just like earlier except this time, there is a difference. This time, for five heavenly seconds, they have their faces toward each other without the slightest inclination or necessity to worry, without the fear of opening themselves to one other. Rather, it is the secure feeling of being okay and the confidence that these five heavenly seconds can go on forever.
...ooOoo...
A/N: Honestly, I still feel absolutely insecure about this fic because I've never written a Malec before, and it's my first time using the present tense narration and the long dashes in hopes of a more dramatic effect for the readers. Nevertheless, I really loved the plot and the entire concept especially the whole memory thing (I also hope the drama was enough). I hope you did too.
If you did like this one-shot, please don't forget to let me know. Even just a one-word review or (though I'm not expecting much, fingers crossed) favorite just to boost my confidence would really mean a lot. Thank you. :)