Pardon my French, I know next to nothing about it. Thank you guys for pointing out my mistakes. Do let me know if there are any other mistakes, I wont mind it at all!
Alec spoke the next few words in fluent French, and Magnus understood perfectly. "Pardonne moi por tout ce que j'ai fait ou vais faire . Je n'ai jamais aimé quelqu'un autant que j'ai t'aime toi. Je suis tellement désolé, Magnus." Magnus, held his breath in, not wanting to attract Alec's attention, he was close to running back to the boy. Alec's words echoed in his head, he noted the slight hesitance as Alec said the words, Magnus could not identify the emotion behind the sentence, so he chose to leave it behind him. Like he was doing to Alec, he was another person in Magnus' long list of ex-lovers. He heard the shuffling of leaves, and the crunching of grass. Alec's boot pounded lightly on the ground, and Magnus stood for a second longer, hearing footsteps retreat into the distant.
Magnus was walking back to his own apartment, he did not look back into the distance.
Alec reached the Institute, the only place he was always welcomed to. Sometimes, Alec thought that his parents would one day get so aggravated with his condition and would most likely kick him out of the place. It was wrong to think so coldly of his parents, but nothing they did ever made him think differently. His siblings were most likely asleep, the two were informed that he would return after a while. His and Camille's meeting only lasted half an hour, and yet none of his questions were answered to his expectations. It happened every time he visited the former leader of the Manhattan vampire clan. Inside the institute it was silent; his parents were in Idris to attend the council meetings, as Sebastian, Clary's brother, was still on the loose. He was free, no siblings, no interrogation, Alec walked through the grand, majestic building, relishing the feel of the ancient place that was always comforted him. He preferred to live there instead of in Alicante; most of his memories were in New York anyway. Alec was stood in front of his bedroom door, his territory, and his fort of solitude. With a shuddery breath, he tiptoed inside the room, as if not wanting to note his presence to the shadows of the room. Closing the door, he hovered, close enough to grasp the handle, if harm came his way. The room was vacant, free for usage, as he'd begun to stay overnights at his boyfriend's - ex boyfriends - apartment. Nothing had moved, though, all in structured order, it may have been cleaned a little by his OCD-ridden parabatai, otherwise, not a speck was out of place. Alec lost it after that, standing in the vacant room, he felt the urge to mark it as his own, not a stranger's room. Mark it was what he did.
He turned his back, facing the door and grabbing his stele and placed it against the door, all done in one silk movement. The angelic contraption began moving, forcing swirls and patterns into the thin wooden plank. After the first drawing was finished, Alec moved on to the next, carefully twisting his wrist in concentration, his stele could not fail him. Jerking his hand back, he stared at his drawing, there were two runes indented in the door, the first was a quietude rune, silencing the expanse of walls. The second was a lock rune, locking himself into the room, and blocking the entrance to any unbidden guests. Now Alec felt fully at peace. He gently laid his weapon belt upon the dresser, slowly slipping the silver objects out of their slits, arranging them in an orderly way. All self-control vanished from that second onwards. Pictures were thrown out of cupboards, of walls, jumbling with each other in a pile. Clothing came along with it; stray pieces of cloth were thrown haphazardly around each corner of his room. A rainfall of tears pattered on his ghastly coloured cheeks, Alec did not care about the tangy salt taste erupting explosions in his mouth. He made a beeline for his stele again, this time with more fury and hatred. With his hollow mind he began to trace the ignition rune upon the bundle of photos, flame sparkled and cackled, and amusing angst-ridden eyes. That was when the two images spoke out to him through the fire. He wasn't thinking, his hand coiled into the blaze, he did not care about the blistering splinters that formed at his skin. Fire burned, energy and regret, he let it grow. All Alec cared for were the two, slightly distorted images in his hand. They were memories flowing rapidly back into his minds, again, tears sprang out faster and faster, Alec struggled for breath. A smaller image of himself smiled at him-unaware of the owner's emotions that would trigger. This image was not of Alec, it was of Max. His younger, deceased, brother, whom he missed more than anything in the world. Alec had seemed the most affected by the youngster's death, however, unlike his siblings, he hid his emotions. Only breaking out once to Isabelle in anger, detest for himself. He couldn't save Max, if it were a choice, Alec would've taken the opportunity to stand in Max's shoes, and suffer the deathblow. No one would be affected anyway; there was not one person who truly would've of missed Alec's presence. Not even Magnus, as the warlock had shown Alec exactly what he thought Magnus did. Magnus did not need him, miss him, or suffer from him. Alec spoke his words out into atmosphere, projecting his voice without knowing it was.
A sensor exploded in Alec.
He grabbed his seraph blade. Naming it "Nakir." Then slashing every vulnerable item in sight. The beast inside of him raged, he screamed out in frustration, gripping and tugging at his raven hair. Blades were thrown over to the wall with sheer force, there was no stopping him. Blood flowed out of his blistered hands, burns were red and itchy, and Alec didn't bother with an iratze. His final weapon was his beloved bow. The string was pulled back so tight, arrow in place, and they pierced the grey walls.
After a few hours of agony and anger, Alec's head had draped itself onto the blank mattress, the pillow he normally used ripped to shreds. The thin comforter was left underneath him, he had not bothered to change out of his gear, and in his hands lay the two images and his blue scarf, sealed in the safety of Alec's heart.
