Chapter Twenty-One: Alec

The only saving grace in this miserable situation is that there has been nobody present to watch me slowly fall apart. With Izzy away for a shoot I can fully take advantage of my situation and sulk without fear of interruption or interrogation. I can yell at the refrigerator without enduring a sideways glance, can dissolve in the shower without worrying about hogging the hot water, and can stare at the picture of Magnus on my cell phone for hours on end without anyone questioning my sanity.

Looking at the picture is the only thing that keeps me calm. I lose myself in it, managing to convince myself for whatever fleeting time the world allows me – sometimes a few seconds, others an hour or more – that this Magnus, the sweet, peaceful Magnus, is the one living on the other side of the city. Burning the sight of Magnus, hair falling across his face, mouth slightly open, face completely relaxed, into my mind is the only weapon I have against my most recent memory of him. The only thing that keeps me from imagining what he was doing before I arrived at his house yesterday. What he was doing after I left. What he's probably doing right now.

Thinking about these things is exactly what I can't do. For thinking of a small, pale hand running up Magnus's thigh, or purple-tipped hair falling across his chest, or kiss-bruised lips trailing down his neck, is enough to drive me mad. But thinking is all I seem to do. Thinking of whether Magnus touches Josh as gently as he did me, or if he's happy that he doesn't have to. If they slowly kiss and whisper "I love you's" or if they're fast and furious, knocking books and pens and frames off the desk because the few feet to the bed is too far. If they stay in to cuddle and watch a movie, or go out to flaunt their love to the world. I honestly don't know which is worse: thinking that Josh is everything I was or that he's everything I didn't have the strength to be.

I should really delete the picture. Delete the picture and find something to do with my life other than sit here, thinking about Magnus and Josh. Something productive.

I bring the picture up for the four millionth time, and hover my thumb over the little garbage can at the bottom of the screen. All I have to do is touch it and the picture will be gone. It should be easy; I mean, first he cheated on me, then he insulted me, then he rubbed both in my face. I understand that running out on him was a shitty thing to do, but how serious could his sentiment have been if it took him less than a day to fill the void with someone else? How much could he have cared about the night we spent together if he could just run out and do the same thing with someone else before the sheets were cold?

Still, just because something should be easy, or logical, or right doesn't mean that it is. I throw the phone on my bed and head down to the kitchen; I figure if recovery has got to start somewhere, it should be with less stressful decisions, like which kind of ice cream to eat.

Just as I've finished digging my way through Isabelle's crap and down to the vanilla, the doorbell rings. The sound is completely unexpected and I drop the ice cream right on my toe. So smooth. I want to ignore the guest, but when you grow up in a military family you learn never to ignore someone ringing your bell. Your stomach flip-flops with every unexpected caller, because you never know if today is going to be the day. At least Isabelle got to find out about me from our parents; if something happened to them we wouldn't have the same luxury.

When I open the door, I feel a strange mix of emotions: there's relief, but paired with overwhelming rage and the distinct urge to destroy.

"Josh," I say as calmly as I can. "I usually never hit people who can't defend themselves, but I find myself really wanting to make an exception right now."

Josh doesn't look scared. In fact, he looks a little sad. I think that's what stops me from lunging forward and ringing his skinny little neck. He doesn't look any happier than I feel. "You can't hurt me Alec," he whispers. "Not any more than I'm already hurt." He looks me over, taking in the unwashed hair and ratty pajama pants. "And I can almost guarantee you that hitting me is not going to get rid of whatever you're feeling right now."

"I wouldn't bet on that," I say, taking a step toward him. "Plus, maybe a little trial and error would be good for my soul."

Josh doesn't back down. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled paper. He unfurls is, smoothing out the edges, and my heart speeds up. I feel a little dizzy, and reach out to grab the door.

It's the postcard from yesterday. "Why do you have that?"

"So you did bring it to Magnus's." It's not a question. He smiles. "I knew it. I knew it yesterday when you showed up at Magnus's house."

The mention of Magnus's house reawakens the rage that has been simmering beneath the surface. I step forward and grab the postcard out of Josh's hands. The sudden movement finally causes him to flinch.

"Josh, I'm going to give you three seconds to turn your skinny blonde ass around and get away from my house."

Instead of heeding my warning, Josh just looks up at me, his eyes clouded with confusion. "I don't get it Alec," he says, sounding a little angry himself now. "If you're in love with Magnus, what the hell were you doing with Jace?"

"Jace?" I repeat, dumbfounded. "What makes you think I want anything to do with Jace?"

"I know he was here," Josh replies. "So don't you act so goddamn high and mighty. Maybe I should be the one threatening to kick the crap out of you, for breaking my best friend's heart."

Though the thought of Josh attempting to hit me would probably make me laugh at any other time, right now I'm just aching for him to try. If he throws the first punch, it would significantly lessen the guilt I would feel for hitting him. He stays firmly rooted where he is, however, so I settle for sneering. "Breaking his heart? I'm pretty sure that broken hearted guys don't spend the night fucking their pathetic best friends."

Josh flushes, but moves closer. "God, you and Magnus are such dicks! Jesus, you're both too busy wallowing in self-pity to open your eyes." He takes a deep breath and his voices rises higher. "I'm sure it's easy for both of you to shit all over me, but if either of you put half as much energy into talking for five seconds, I would not have to deal with ALL. THIS. SHIT!"

He lets out a huge moan of frustration and rubs his temples. I'm too busy trying to understand what he's saying to formulate a response.

The silence works to his advantage. Hands on his hips, arms crossed, he glares at me. "Alec, did you or did you not kiss Jace after leaving Magnus's house?"

"NO!" I explode. "I did not kiss Jace. He showed up here and confessed his feelings for me and kissed me and you know what I did? Pushed him away and told him I loved Magnus. Fat lot of good that did me. Why do – "

Josh clamps his hand over my mouth. "Don't talk until I tell you to," he orders. "Now, why didn't you explain any of this when you showed up at Magnus's apartment?"

"Explain?" I explode. "You were there, Josh, why do you think I didn't explain anything?"

Josh groans again, and pulls on the pieces of hair that are hanging down over his eyes. "Arghhhh. I don't know? You could have called Magnus an ass – told him that you turned down Jace for him."

I cross my arms. "No way. Magnus made his decision; I was not about to look like some whiny ass, begging him to love me as much as I loved him."

"BUT YOU WOULDN'T EVEN TELL HIM YOU LOVED HIM!" Josh screams.

"Well it's a bloody good thing I didn't," I yell right back. "Since he ended up fucking you less than 24 hours after he told me."

"Alec, you idiot. I didn't fuck Magnus. I didn't even kiss Magnus until he pulled that stupid stunt to make you jealous. Magnus ran after you that morning and saw you kissing Jace. He said that you had plenty of time to pull away, but you just let it happen. Then he went home, got sloshed and called me at two in the freaking morning because he had run out of booze and couldn't find his shoes to go get more. When you showed up that morning he thought you were there to dump him. I was pissed at you for hurting Magnus, so I went along with it, even though I thought it was a terrible idea. I promised Magnus I wouldn't interfere, but I knew I was right when I found that postcard."

I have no idea how to reply. I just stand there for a few minutes, mouth flopped open, waiting to wake up. Because this has to be a dream.

Now that Josh has stopped yelling, he seems to have deflated. He walks over beside me, and hauls me down on the steps. We just sit there in silence, Josh giving me time to absorb all this information.

"Why did you come?" I finally manage. "You love him too."

"Of course I love him." Josh smiles, and he looks so sad it almost breaks my heart all over again. "This is what you do when you love someone – make them happy, no matter what the cost." He twists so that he's facing me, and draws his knees up to his chest. "I could have watched Magnus fall apart and been there to pick up the pieces, hoping that by the end of the ordeal he would appreciate all I had done for him. I could have come on to him while he was drunk and lonely. I could have fed his anger at you until it turned into some kind of twisted hatred. But I could never make Magnus stop loving you. You're what he wants, Alec. With you gone there's some piece of him that's irreparably damaged, and while Magnus is broken I'm broken too."

A tear runs down his face, and Josh ignores it. I reach out and brush it away, surprising myself with the gesture. "When I saw your postcard," he says, cheeks flushing a little, "I hesitated. I knew that if I crumpled it up that would be the end of you and Magnus. And for one horrible second I wanted to let it happen. But I didn't, because I do love him."

"But how do you know he still loves me?" I whisper, unwilling to get my hopes up.

"Remember the painting in Magnus's living room?" Josh asks. "The Van Gogh?"

Thinking of Magnus's painting sends another painful jolt through my chest; it reminds me of our first date. I shake my head, and Josh continues.

"Well, Camille had pictures of you and Magnus kissing. She threatened to expose you if Magnus didn't give her the painting, and he did. He gave it to her yesterday, after he found out about Jace. If that's not a sign that he still loves you, then I don't know what is."

My body is being attacked by a maelstrom of emotions: sadness, guilt, sympathy, relief, and overwhelming joy. I don't know what I'm feeling or what I'm supposed to be feeling or what I want to feel. Mostly, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the idea that Magnus still wants me. Magnus still loves me.

Figuring that this is already the most fucked up day of my life, I lean over and envelope Josh in a hug. "You deserve him so much more than I do," I whisper.

I can feel Josh's tears falling on my neck and he quivers in my arms. "I'm inclined to agree with you," he replies. "But it's you that he wants. It's always been you."