This fic is gifted to tumblr user sarcastilecki! As always, let me know your thoughts! And I'm not really sorry for this one!
Visiting with Max had been good for Magnus, and he tried to remind himself of that, but at the same time, it had torn at his heart. Max called him every so often to plan dinner or absolutely anything that would allow them to see one another. Magnus had to admit that seeing Max was something he needed to do. It had been half a century since they had lost Rafael, and Magnus didn't want to think about exactly how long it had been since they had lost Alec. Max had grandchildren at this point, and Magnus loved them with everything he had, but visiting them only hurt him more.
That was the thing that hurt Magnus the most about the entire situation. He wanted to be able to visit his family more than anything else, but every time he did, he found himself wishing more and more that Alec was by his side. Tonight, he had only met with Max, something they tried to do as often as possible. Max had wanted to go home with him, but Magnus had protested, trying his hardest to convince his son that he was fine. Trying his hardest to convince himself that he was fine.
As he generally always did, Max had asked him whether or not he was seeing anyone. That always made Magnus smile, mostly because he knew that Max was really trying. By now, Max seemed to know the answer that was coming, but he asked anyway. Magnus knew Max was only asking because he cared, but his answer was always the same. And Magnus knew it would remain the same for the rest of his life.
People always thought that he was simply being dramatic when he said that he would never be with anyone else after Alec, but almost a century later, he knew it was the absolute truth. Thinking about his night with Max, Magnus had a fleeting thought of the drunken night he'd spent with a man whose name he couldn't even remember. He tamped down the guilt, going to make a pot of coffee, knowing he wasn't likely to get much sleep that night.
He'd never been one for having casual sex. But getting drunk on Alec's birthday had slightly impaired all of his decision making abilities. The guilt that Magnus continually felt over that night was something he was growing used to, and he'd kept it to himself, knowing that was not something Max needed to know about. So Magnus had simply reminded Max that he would never see anyone else, that Alec was the love of his ridiculously long life.
As soon as he poured his coffee, he headed for the bedroom, knowing that he was slipping back into a place he didn't need to be. Lately he'd been having a fair bit of trouble remembering the little details about Alec or even the larger details about Alec. He was having trouble picturing Alec's face, knowing that his picture was distorted by time. Magnus reached for the photo album that Rafael had left with him before he had left as well, knowing he was on the verge of breaking down, as he usually was when he reached for the album.
Flipping through the album brought the tears that had been threatening to fall. Yet even the pictures didn't do justice to the one thing Magnus forgot most often, the one thing he wanted to remember the most. Alec's eyes had always been the one thing Magnus loved the most, though he wasn't entirely sure why that was. Yet the precise color of them was something that was slowly slipping away from him the longer he lived without Alec.
He guessed that was why Alec had given him the rose in the first place. Magnus walked over to the box he kept it in, constantly worried that the Chairman would get ahold of it and ruin it. Holding it in his hand brought back a flood of emotions that Magnus wasn't sure he wanted to feel. About five years before Alec's death, he'd asked Catarina to craft the rose for him, and he'd left it for Magnus to find after his death.
The note he'd left with the rose had explained that it was the exact color of his eyes and that he wanted Magnus to be able to remember that color for centuries to come. Alec had known just how much his eye color had meant to Magnus, even if he hadn't entirely understood it. Magnus took a deep breath as he sat back on the bed, the weight of the rose seemingly a weight on his chest. For the first couple of decades, Magnus had almost hated the rose, wanting nothing to do with it or the reminder of Alec.
But about forty years after losing Alec, he'd come to realize that he couldn't envision the color of Alec's eyes any longer, and he'd taken the rose out for the first time since he'd gotten it. Now it almost felt as though it was his crutch. Every time he found himself thinking about Alec, he went to the rose, no matter whether or not he needed to remember Alec's eye color.
Looking at it now was only helping him feel the hole in his chest that Alec had left. He knew it would be there for the rest of his life, no matter how long he lived. Magnus was terribly used to it at this point, and the rose was just a painful reminder of everything he'd lost. The only thing Magnus could find in himself to do to keep the tears from turning into much more was to get up and go back to the box. He didn't put Alec's rose back in, however; he reached in and took another one out.
For the first time in half a century, Magnus pulled out the rose Rafael had left with him. Rafael had comfortably died of old age, but he'd still asked Max to help him make a rose that was the color of his eyes as well. The last thing Magnus had wanted at the time of his son's death was to start his apparent collection of roses. But now he finally understood that Rafe had simply wanted the same thing that Alec had wanted, a way for Magnus to remember the things he had held on to during his life.
Looking down at both of the roses was like looking into his soul, knowing that those roses represented everything he had once been, all of his pain and suffering in two simple flowers. He was highly aware of the fact that his tears were a steady stream now, but he wasn't aware of the door opening until he heard Max's voice. "Papa? I'm coming in," he said just before opening the bedroom door. The last thing Magnus wanted to do was to admit to Max just how hurt he truly was, but before he could protest, Max's arms were around him.
For several long minutes, Max didn't say anything at all, and Magnus didn't try to move away from him, his eyes still glued to the roses. "I miss them, too, Papa," Max finally said, his voice soft with the pain that Magnus felt as well. "Rafe was always much better at comforting people than I am. He was more like Dad; I'm more like you." Magnus smiled at the thought, knowing Max was completely right. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to be here when you need me, Papa. I may not be as gentle as Dad or Rafe, but I do love you, and I will help you in any way I can."
At that, Magnus moved to wrap his arm around Max; he wasn't sure if this was more for Max or for himself. Magnus couldn't find it in himself to speak; he didn't want Max to hear the pain in his voice, but before long, Max himself filled the silence. "They both had the most beautiful eyes, didn't they?" Magnus was surprised to hear the smile in Max's voice. Max reached over to gently take the roses from him.
Magnus moved to kiss Max's forehead. "That they did, Blueberry, that they did," he said, happy that his voice was clearing of the tears he had shed. For several moments, he thought about what he was going to say, about whether or not it was actually a good idea for him to say it, but in the end, he decided he did need to say it. "I think I would like one that's your eye color, too," he said, smiling at Max's startled look. "No, not because I think I'm going to lose you. I just thought I should have one for each of the three people I've loved the most in the world." Max sat still for several seconds before moving to use his magic.
Before Magnus realized what was happening, two more roses appeared in his hand. The second rose was a surprise, but Magnus knew exactly what Max wanted to represent as soon as he saw it. "How about the four?" Max asked when he realized that Magnus was speechless. The second rose was the exact color that Ragnor's skin had been, and Magnus knew that Max had only been able to make it because he was currently looking at the photo album that Magnus had left open on the bed. Magnus placed the roses on the bed in disbelief, knowing that Max was much more like Alec than he thought.
When Max reached up to wipe the tears from Magnus's face, Magnus knew he wasn't going to be able to say anything else for the rest of the night. Luckily, Max seemed to understand this because he simply moved to place all four roses on the nightstand. "I'm going to stay here tonight, Papa. I'll be in my room if you need absolutely anything. I love you." All Magnus could do was go to sleep, the thought that Max was there somehow comforting him enough to calm his mind. He didn't know what the rest of their lives held for them, but what he did know was that Max was going to be his walking rose for however long they lived. Max was going to be both his reason to keep moving forward and his reason to hold on to the past.