Author's Note:

Hello. So, I'm going to try to write some sort of romantic Fanfiction, and because Malec is my OTP in the fiction world, I shall try not to make them sound constipated.

Please, read, review, follow, favourite, tell me I sound stupid. Seriously. Tell me I sound stupid, if you think I do.

Anyway, I don't own "The Mortal Instruments". If I did, I'd honestly do all the things those awesome shirts say like "Keep calm and love unitatos". I would.


Imagine this. The second you were born, there was something expected of you, a path set for you, a life waiting for you.

You were born as a Shadowhunter, the eldest of three. When you were eleven, your family adopted two other children.

One of them was a boy, a boy who was special. He was better than you at everything. Better looking, a better fighter, just plain better. Everyone thought so, you could see it in their eyes. Everyone knew it, everyone believed it, everyone, but him.

He liked you enough to become your best friend, your parabatai, a brother in all but blood. What you felt, he felt; where you went, he went; when you died, a part of him died with you.

He was impulsive, perhaps he had a death wish; you were the protector, the older brother, the one who was everything your parents wanted in a son.

The other one looked like a Lightwood when he came. A small one, fragile. He was better than you too, just like your parabatai. Only a better fighter, though. You've never seen him with a girl before. You should have noticed. You're sister did. She never did tell. Just like she never did tell your secret.

A boy at Pandemonium had flirted with him, a hand on his arm, asked him to dance. The boy was a mundane. And by the end of the night, the mundane had him wide-eyed and breathless. You laughed it off that time, and every time after that.

You never noticed when he slunk into a corner to avoid dancing at clubs because you were occupied with finding your own corner to hide. You never noticed that you hadn't caught him with a girl yet, because you were too busy making up lies to hide your own lack of feminine companionship. You never noticed when he subtly watched your lips move as you spoke, hugged you a second longer than necessary, or touched you softly when you received bad news or any news at all. You never noticed.

You told the two of them everything, they were your best friends, your only friends. There was something that was missing, though, a crucial detail needed to complete the picture. It stood out to you like a neon sign hanging right before your eyes. You tried to cover up that neon sign. You tried so hard. You hoped they never saw it, your sister did, but she was different; that's what you told yourself.

It was like trying to hide the fact that your puzzle was missing a piece smack dab in the middle of your goddamn fifteen piece puzzle. Honestly, like hoping no one looked at the cake because you'd just eaten the giant icing flower everyone wanted, but you know what? You are Alexander Gideon Lightwood, and you are gay.

Then, when you met Magnus Bane, you were shocked. This was a man who was openly gay. The open-mouthed gapes of other people didn't bother him, nor did your staring. To him, those people were admiring his looks and his attire, and you were checking him out. You were, you know. You came up with many excuses to cover up your staring, but he saw through them, just like Isabelle; just like Clary.

You were drawn to him when you first met him, he was a novelty among warlocks, the High Warlock of Brooklyn. You were keenly aware of him, just as he was aware of you. He was the first one to call you beautiful, the first one to single you out and tell you to call him, the first one to magically write his number on your arm in sparkly pink ink.

The first, and forever the last.


Author's Note:

Once again, please review, follow, favourite, tell me I make all the characters sound constipated. What a way to die indeed.

Thank you!

~ Tell me you don't see evil