I'm determined to get these chapters out now, because this is the second to last one... enjoy!


(Probably the biggest time skip ever…) Four months later:

If this were Love Actually, Alec would be here right now. Well, Magnus had to remind himself that it was only December 23rd—Alec still had time. Though, they weren't together anymore and time had thus far done nothing to dampen Magnus' feelings for Alec.

Magnus' life had stopped being a romantic comedy the moment that he stepped out of Texas and back into New York. Like waking up to some kind of sick reality, Magnus life went almost back to normal. He was less distant with his parents and less snippy with his friends, but it was still parties on the weekends with breakfast at the diner. School resumed with a despairing monotone and Magnus was almost convinced that Alec was nothing but some insane pipe dream.

If it hadn't been for the fact that they'd talked almost every single day since Magnus had left. If it hadn't been for the strings of text messages, late night phone calls and hour long skype sessions that they couldn't seem to stop. Alec was like an addiction and Magnus didn't ever want to stop using.

Being friends was harder than expected—Magnus felt silly for thinking that it wasn't going to be—but it would have been worse, he thought, had he never spoken to Alec again. There was something to be said about still seeing him, still knowing that he was there.

Groaning and blinking his eyes open, Magnus rolled over to glare at his alarm clock. It was strange, that even after all this time, he missed the feeling of waking up warm and tucked into Alec's arms.

It wasn't early in the afternoon, it wasn't even late in the morning.

According to the flashing red lights staring Magnus in the face, his alarm wasn't due to go off for another hour and a half—there wouldn't have been an alarm at all had Camille not wanted to go and do some last minute Christmas shopping. Realizing what had happened, Magnus pawed around on the table to try and find his phone, the alarm clock impersonator.

He had a smattering of messages, but none that were as important as the one that had woken him up.

They're insane Magnus. You wouldn't believe it.

Magnus could practically hear Alec's voice (clearly a sign that he was finally losing it) and he couldn't help but sigh. The text was accompanied by a photo of the Lightwoods all gathered around the breakfast table, which instead of being covered in breakfast, was piled to the cieling with gingerbread. Alec had insisted that his family celebrated Christmas with some kind of strange, frantic fever, but Magnus had waved him off, telling him that families always seem more strange and embarassing to the people who had to live with them.

Since that day, around a week previously on a skype call, Alec had been trying to prove Magnus wrong by sending him proof of their supposed insanity.

It was absolutely impossible for Magnus to keep the smile that threatened to creep onto his face at bay. He typed out a short reply, hoping that Alec would appreciate his comentary on the look on Jace's face, which was nothing short of worship.

As much as Magnus was delighted to hear from Alec, he was now awake and it didn't seem that there was going to be anything better to do than to get ready.

The moment that Magnus' feet touched the cold, hardwood floor, he changed his mind. A cup of tea was needed if Magnus was going to make it through the snow that was covering everything in sight.

He shuffled out into the hallway, almost colliding with his father.

"Oh, Magnus."

"Morning," Magnus said, stifling a yawn. His dad smiled, the kind that was easy and warm and had always made Magnus sad as a child because he longed to see it more. And now, somehow he was. It was like he'd bridged the gap between him and his parents—something so easily done that Magnus was beginning to wonder if he had been the problem all these years of distance.

"I didn't think you were meeting with Camille for a few more hours," Magnus' dad frowned, looking at his watch.

"I'm not," Magnus nodded, following his father down the stairs, "but my phone woke me up and I know that there's no point in trying to get back to sleep."

"You want a cup of tea?"

Magnus nodded gratefully and pressed an absent-minded kiss to his mother's cheek. He could feel the smile on her cheeks and he moved past her to lounge at the kitchen table.

His parents danced around the kitchen, knowing where the other was going and never colliding or missing a beat. His dad placed a hot cup of tea in front of him and Magnus sipped at it delicately, letting it warm his hands. He traced pictures onto the surface of the table.

For Magnus, it was a day off, but both of his parents had obligations—Christmas vacation didn't really exist in the adult world and Magnus thought that was a horrible crime—so it wasn't long before Magnus had bid them goodbye and was sitting at the table with the dregs of his tea. He flicked on the TV and watched half an hour of some trashy kid's show, pretending like it wasn't the slightest bit funny. Alec was the only person that Magnus had ever admitted to that he did actually enjoy some of the terrible cartoons.

Slightly more awake, he wandered back upstairs and started to get ready to see Camille.

He was only done with his eyeliner and his hair when she banged on the front door. Magnus opened it and went back upstairs, Camille following without question.

"I can't believe you're not ready yet," she teased, "I thought you said you were up early today."

"I was," Magnus insisted. "I have no idea how I managed to waste all my time."

She laughed and brushed a perfectly curled lock of hair from her eyes. "I have no idea how you managed to make your eyeliner that even. Your natural makeup skills are terribly annoying because mine are seriously lacking."

"Shush," Magnus said, "you know that's not true. You're perfect. You don't even need makeup." He rolled his eyes and started to root through his closet. Finding the perfect outfit that kept him warm but also looked good was hard.

"Don't forget that there's a party tonight. So lay out another outfit and we can come back later so you can get changed."

"Huh?"

"You forgot, didn't you?" Camille smiled and stretched out on his unmade bed, sighing. "There's going to be a Christmas party tonight. You have to be there, because everyone is going."

The trip to Texas had made Magnus hyperaware of the amount of parties that they attended, but that didn't stop him. He tried to be more controlled at times, tried to keep his head level and have a fun time without going insane—if only to keep his mother from worrying. That didn't mean it always happened, but Magnus liked to think that effort counted for something.


Magnus knew that it was silly to go shopping so close to Christmas, but he still wasn't ready for the hoards of people that were crammed into each store. He stuck close to Camille and tried to give a decent opinion on the different gifts she debated getting, but mostly couldn't take his mind off of the idea of just sitting down and getting a coffee.

Finally, after what must have been decades, Camille conceeded that they were in desperate need of a break.

Their favorite coffeeshop—a small one that was on a filthy side street and avoided by anyone that wasn't a native New Yorker or didn't have a death wish—smelled like coffee grounds, and its few patrons were bathed in warm light. They chose a table near the back, underneath the overly artsy Edith Piaf poster, the same table where they'd scratched their initials into the wood in tenth grade.

"I feel like we haven't been here in ages," Camille said, throwing her coat onto the back of a chair and letting her bags fan out around them.

"We haven't," Magnus nodded, "I don't like leaving the house when I'm worried about getting frost bite."

"How can you live in New York all this time and not be able to handle a tiny bit of snow? We didn't even get that much this year."

"Don't sound so happy about that, global warming is nothing to smile about."

"Well," Camille ran her fingers through her messy hair, "my non-waterproof boots are smiling."

Magnus snorted and got up to order. He didn't bother asking Camille what she wanted, because she always ordered the exact same thing. This was routine and Magnus didn't mind the familiarity. The boy behind the counter however, was not familiar.

"Hi," Magnus said hesitantly, "are you new?"

"Yeah? How did you know?"

"I come here a lot," Magnus admitted, knowing in his head that this boy was in fact cute, but also knowing that he was in fact, not Alec. "I'm going to get one small soy latte and one small caramel macciato with no foam."

Cute-but-definitely-not-Alec nodded, jotting down Magnus' orders on the side of the cups and grinning. "Anything to eat?"

Magnus eyed the glass cabinet, sucking on his lower lip. "I think," he started, pausing and continuing to analyze the pastries, "I'm going to get the pain au chocolat." This garnered him another nod from Cute-but-definitely-not-Alec. Magnus knew that he could have gone and sat down, but for some reason lingered at the counter watching Cute-but-definitely-not-Alec make the drinks.

"I'm Magnus by the way."

"Alex."

Well that was just some kind of sick karma wasn't it.

"Oh."

"What?"

"Short for Alexander?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh."

"What?"

"That's the name of my," Magnus paused. Alec didn't feel like an ex, but he wasn't Magnus' boyfriend, he was just Magnus' person. He wasn't gone but he wasn't there, it was relationship limbo. Alex raised an eyebrow but seemed to sense that Magnus was at a loss.

"Is that going to win me points or lose me points?"

His tone was flirtatious and Magnus knew deep down that he should feel something more than a dull ache that this wasn't the boy that he wanted to smile at him like that. Magnus sighed, tapping a finger against his chin. "I haven't decided yet," he replied honestly, "I think that only time will tell about that one."

"Well," Alex slid Magnus' drinks over the counter, "if you ever change your mind or things seem to be looking good for my chances, call me."

Magnus glanced down and felt his cheeks heat up. Alex had written his number on the edge of a napkin. Now, strangely self-concious and feeling all turning inside out, Magnus stumbled back to their table and shook his head at Camille. There was enough distance between the table and the counter—and enough indie music humming—for her to have not heard exactly what was said, but the look on her face said she could tell the kind of conversation it had been.

"He gave me his number," Magnus mumbled, flashing her a glimpse of the napkin. "And now I'm going to have to get back up to get that goddamn pain au chocolat that I wanted." He groaned.

"Poor Magnus," Camille snorted, "a cute boy wants to talk to you—"

"That's not the point."

Maybe she heard the actual annoyance and unhappiness in his voice, maybe she had followed his train of thought from the beginning.

"You're going to need to move on someday," Camille said softly, her eyes focussed on the coffee in front of her. She blew on it gently and Magnus saw her hands tighten on the paper cup. She knew that this meant leaving Alec behind, that calling this boy was admitting that they weren't going to magically reunite like the movies. Calling this boy was exchanging one Alex for the next and falling back into his old habit of throwing boyfriends away like used kleenex. Magnus had wanted this to be different, but he could feel in his gut that maybe it wasn't and he couldn't convince himself to make a choice about the number—either put it in his phone or throw it away—because none of them seemed like good options.

Magnus stuffed the napkin in his pocket, the number weighing heavily on his mind.


The party was in full swing by the time they arrived. People were flooding around the house, swarming it like cartoon flies. They moved in clusers of motion, swinging in and around the front door as if drawn in by the light. There were a few faces that Magnus knew, but they were tossed around in the sea that he didn't.

"Do you think it's a bad sign," Camille asked, her voice already a little unsteady from the pre-party drinking she'd insisted was necessary for her to enjoy herself tonight, "that moments like this I feel truly alive?"

Magnus knew what she meant in a way, to feel the music rumbling through your bones like a heartbeat, the siren song of alcohol burning in your veins. The entire experience could be wonderful if you were willing to surrender yourself to it. There was a chance that this wasn't a good thing, that this was a poison that Magnus was never going to be able to purge himself of, but how could something so wonderful be bad.

Well, Magnus noted the guy hunched over, heaving in the bushes, it wasn't all the glamour and the glory. This was a different party, for Magnus and his friends at least, because they didn't actually know a huge amount of people that lived in an honest to god house. But it was somehow still far more urban than the parties he'd attended in Texas. He could still see the lights of the city and hear the rush of cars.

"Probably," Will replied to Camille, though she seemed to have forgotten she'd asked a question. She was wearing a tight black dress, catching the eye of every passing guy. Magnus felt himself drift towards her. She wouldn't want the protection, but he would always give it, not wanting people to mistake her confidence for her consent. It didn't matter what she was wearing, Magnus didn't trust them.

"Let's get some drinks," Magnus said, taking Camille's clammy hand and submerging himself in the throng of people. They lost the rest of their friends within seconds, though Magnus knew they'd probably stick together.

The drinks table was the kind of mess that Magnus was expecting, so he searched for something that hadn't been opened. They were at a party with people he didn't know, but he knew enough not to expect anything that had been opened to be completely pure. There was a sealed bottle of vodka and Magnus plucked it out, raising it for Camille to see. She beamed at him.

Time seemed to pass in disjointed chunks after that, sipping the vodka and letting it scorch his throat, dancing with Camille as she laughed. He spent most of the time clinging to the bottle, not wanting to sacrifice the safe drink.

"I desperately have to take a piss," he whispered in her ear and she nodded, letting him amble back out through the house to find a bathroom. He caught a glimpse of her as he left, hair alight in the darkness and eyes flashing. Her skin was pale as satin in moonlight and Magnus couldn't help but smile—he was a fan of beautiful things, so sue him.

"God, I look like a mess," Magnus said aloud, staring at himself in the mirror. Away from the dim dancefloor, he could notice the way his eyeliner had smudged and the dazed look in his own eyes. He set the vodka and his phone on the side of the sink. He felt a little bit sweaty and grimy now that he wasn't in the thick of the party. The music had been muffled to a dull roar and the bathroom already smelled a little like vomit.

Magnus was washing his hands when he noticed his phone light up. There was one new message on his phone, one from Alec.

Is it bad that I still miss you?

Magnus' knees almost gave out. A combination of the alcohol, the phone number that was still stuffed into his jeans and the text made Magnus feel like his mind was going to cave in. It had been months and Magnus was still hung up over the same boy—had this been a year previously, Magnus probably would have scoffed at a text like this, but it took every single ounce of willpower that Magnus had not to reply.

Snatching both his phone and the bottle off the counter, Magnus slumped down onto the floor. He took a swig from the bottle and sighed, shaking his head.

"Don't be an idiot."

His own voice sounded weird, like he was on the edge of tears. Magnus didn't want to go back out and dance with Camille. Not now, he just wanted to wallow in self-pity for a while and then go home. He wanted to stay up all night texting Alec about snow and sugar cookies, not grind with a boy who was never going to remember his name.

Magnus wasn't sure how long he sat in the bathroom, staring at the white tile. Long enough, it seemed, for Camille to start to worry.

"Magnus?" Camille edged the bathroom door open slightly, peering around the corner. He started, having forgotten that the door didn't lock properly. Magnus was sure how he looked, hunched over on the floor, a bottle of vodka dangling from one hand and the other rubbing furiously at the tears that were spilling down his cheeks. She came to stand in front of him. There was a bit of drink spilled on the edge of her dress and Magnus could smell the sweat lingering on her skin underneath her perfume. "Oh babe." Camille said softly.

They didn't say anything for a moment, so Magnus just turned his phone screen so that she could see the text. The sight of it seemed to sober her up a little bit, though she swayed on her feet slightly.

"I should be over him by now," Magnus said, shaking his head. "It's been months, we've been friends for months. But every time I see his face, I can't help but want to be with him, I can't help but want to bathe in his voice whenever he picks up the phone. He sends me one text like that and I'm a puddle on the floor."

"Maybe that's love," Camille said softly, slidding down onto the floor next to him.

"Maybe?"

"Do you think you love him?"

"I know that I do," Magnus said, without a heartbeat of hesitation, "but I also know that I shouldn't." His words were slightly slurred, but he didn't feel really drunk anymore. To Magnus, being drunk had always been the sensation of flying, of unbearable lightness. But this was something else, it was heavy and hard, tugging down the edges of Magnus' mind and not letting him fly. It was pinning back his wings. "Oh god," Magnus groaned, "I'm sad-drinking aren't I? This is what people always do in TV when they get sad, they just drown their sorrows in booze."

Despite his protest, Magnus took another sip, wincing at the bitterness.

"I miss him," Magnus whispered, "I talk to him all the time. But I miss him all the time. The way that he laughs, the way that his hands cup my face, the way that he smiles when he doesn't think that anyone can see. I miss him."

"You love him."

"I know and what a terrible, terrible romance this is," Magnus sighed, running his nails down the side of the bottle that hung from his fingertips.

"Your life is basically a soap opera at this point," Camille said, reaching for the bottle herself. She didn't take a sip, but instead set it aside where neither of them could get it. "If it would cheer you up, this is the kind my mother would love."

Magnus snorted, shaking his head.

"I don't think I ever understood." Magnus said softly. Camille looked at him, but he didn't look back, his eyes fixed firmly on his knees. He pulled at the holes in his jeans, tugging on a loose thread. "I don't think I ever understood how my mother could give up everything she loved: her home, her family, her friends. How she could give all that up for the love of one person. But then I met Alec."

"Do you think that he's your happily ever after?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Magnus hiccuped, giving Camille a weightless glare. "People like me don't get happily ever after."

"Why the fuck not?" Camille said. She was slightly louder than normal, the alcohol no doubt. "You're nice, you're funny and you deserve it."

"I don't deserve him."

"What?"

"Alec." Magnus' voice faltered as he said Alec's name. "I don't deserve him. Not even slightly."

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

"God Cam, you should see the way that he looks at me, the way that he holds my hands like they're some kind of delicate thing that he shouldn't be allowed to touch. He tells me that I'm beautiful and that I make him happy and he says everything that I've always wanted a boy to say to me—"

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm not like that," Magnus' voice was soft, "I'm parties and loud music. I don't deserve the kind of boy that smiles like summer sunshine and breathes gentleness. I don't deserve the kind of boy that would love me day in and day out, because I've lived the kind of life that's made me hard to love."

"I think you're very lovable."

Magnus shook his head. "Not the way that he thinks. He thinks that everything, every broken piece of me, is worth keeping. He wants to love every shred of myself that I try to hide. What kind of person would be willing to do that?"

"The good kind," Camille smiled, "the kind that you keep."

"But that's the thing," Magnus burst, "I already lost him. I left, I said goodbye. I walked away from probably the only person I'm ever going to love like that and I don't know how to cope with that. I don't know how to lose the life I didn't even know that I wanted." He's started to cry again, when it only just felt like he'd stopped. "What about Peaches? And Adam Levine Junior?" He knew that he was mostly talking nonsense now, but the untameable unhappiness in his chest and the vodka was starting to hit him all at once.

"Who?"

Magnus shuffled around, digging into his pockets. He was hiccuping now, his mascara still running down his face in rivers. He moved to hand her the list of babynames, all the names that he and Alec could agree on, but as he did so, the napkin dropped onto the floor.

The small handwritten note of his phone number and his name.

The Alexander that Magnus didn't want.

"Oh god," Camille said, picking the napkin up from the floor, "are you going to call him?"

Magnus' face must have said it all because Camille did what she always did when he was on the brink of breaking, she suggested something completely bizarre. "We're going to talk about this in the bathtub," she said firmly, pitching to her feet. She hoisted herself into the tub and Magnus found himself following simply because he could.

"So," Camille nodded, "what's this about Peaches?"

"That's the name of one of our imaginary children—"

"Boy or girl?"

"Whatever the baby decides—"

"Magnus, boy or girl."

Huffing, Magnus shrugged, "probably a girl, don't you think?"

Camille nodded. "Sounds decent, lemme see the rest of the list."

MAGNUS AND ALEC'S (HYPOTHETICAL) FAMILY

1. Alec Junior

1. Austin

2. Magnus Junior

2. Apple

2. Peach Cobbler

2. Peaches

3. Isabelle Junior

4. Adam Levine Junior

5. Ragnor Junior

5. Will Junior

5. Kevin (?)

5. Josh

5. Damian

6. Camille Junior

7. Jace Junior

7. Jem Junior

7. James Junior

7. Jasper

"Why are some numbers repeated?"

"We had to agree on the name, so some of them were rewritten several times," Magnus shrugged.

"But you both agreed on Peaches?"

"Yes."

"I like number six."

"I thought you might."

"And Alec was okay with these?"

"He would give me anything, he's just kind of like that." He was. Magnus couldn't help but love the boy that would give him the world, couldn't help but think that there was no one like him, couldn't help but think that there would never be anyone like him again. No copycat Alexander was ever going to compare to the one that Magnus had left in Texas, no matter whether Magnus returned to him or not, there was no point in attempting to replace him.

"Magnus—"

Before either of them could say anything else, a very drunk girl hobbled into the bathroom, looked at them on the floor, opened her mouth as though to say something, turned and threw up in the toilet. Camille winced and leaned up enough to use a spare hair tie to pull her hair back—Camille carried hundreds of hairties for this very purpose.

The girl groaned and reached for some toilet paper to wipe her face. Her hand hit the empty roll and she looked for a moment like she might cry. "Do either of you have a tissue?" She asked, her voice scratchy and bordering on pitiful.

Magnus stared at the napkin in his hand and, after a moment of thought, handed it to her with a smile.


Only one chapter left and things are starting to get happier! Still no Alec, but less emotional turmoil so that's a plus.

xx