An hour passed. Alec was aware of the passage of time because he checked the clock on his phone every few minutes until it blinked 11:00.

It was late, at least by his own standards. Without a call to tear him from bed, Alec should be happily unconscious and dreaming.

Instead, he lay awake, fully dressed beneath the blanket, thinking about Magnus. What was he doing now? Who was he talking to?

Did he miss him? Was he thinking about him at all, or did he file Alec away in some other private part of his mind while enjoying his party, reunited with his Downworlder friends?

Alec didn't like acknowledging that that might be the case. Even when he was in the heat of a battle, Magnus was never very far from his mind. Oh, he knew better. That kind of distraction could severely cost him in the moment, but he couldn't help it. His shadowhunter duties called Alec away from the warlock often enough, but typically when he wasn't fighting demons, or expressly invited to hang with the others, he spent every waking (and sleeping) moment he had with Magnus. So it seemed only natural when they had to spend a few hours apart, that he'd carry with it residual thoughts and memories of their time together.

He'd think back on a recent argument they had. On something funny Magnus had said (and there was an endless supply of these to pull from). Their last kiss – and Alec found himself blushing at the most inopportune times when he reflected on these.

Even now, when he should be sleeping, he couldn't get the warlock off his mind. Magnus was a constant. Magnus had become…well, everything.

Sighing, Alec shifted restlessly, rolling onto his back and staring up at the outline of the ceiling. He wanted to close his eyes. But he was tired of staring at the colorful shapes behind his eyelids, not able to relax, to shut off his mind.

He tapped his fingertips against his stomach for a while, listening to the hollow sound. Drum drum drum, all four fingers, no thumb.

Irritated, he shifted onto his left side, staring at the opposite wall. Then he realized he'd dropped his cell phone – which required rolling back over and grabbing it, checking the screen. Nothing changed.

Alec frowned in the darkness. What did he expect?

You had your chance. He asked you I don't know how many times, and you refused. Don't expect sympathy now.

Alec frown deepened, lining his brow.

11:24. He checked the clock, yawned. He was tired. But still no closer to sleep.

By 11:30, he threw the covers off and went to the bathroom. The fluorescent light stung his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the mirror: pale eyes, bloodshot in the corners, a red mark on one cheek (probably from a fold in the blanket or something), his hair unkempt from rolling around in bed.

If only he could see you now.