The Memories of You
"I am really not that lonely," said Magnus to the coffee mug on the kitchen counter. It was Alec's coffee mug, a simple white and indigo ceramic cup that Alec had claimed for himself when he first started coming around to Magnus' apartment all those months ago, the one that Magnus did not let anyone else use. "So, what if you left four weeks ago?" Or, was it five? Magnus thought but did not ask out loud for fear that the memory of Alec – the one that seemed to be at home in every room in the apartment, the one that glanced at him from the corners of the terrace and made him jump in anticipation every time he heard someone out in the hallway – might begin to think that Magnus was losing touch with reality. "As long as I remember you, you are not really gone," he added and turned to the coffee maker on the counter, the one he bought when Alec told him that he was uncomfortable drinking the coffee that Magnus magically stole. Since Alec left, Magnus had been trying to use the machine because he missed the aroma of freshly made coffee, but so far all he had been able to produce was a concoction that resembled and tasted like tar.
More and more often since Alec left, Magnus had found himself conversing with the things that Alec left behind. In addition to this morning's conversation with Alec's coffee mug, he had had very challenging discussions about the state of affairs in the world with Alec's toothbrush in the bathroom and debated music with one of Alec's t-shirt hanging in the closet. He knew, of course, that anyone listening to his chatter would think that he was losing his marbles. It was just that his memories of Alec had become relentless companions, companions that spoke loudly in their silence. The memories were intrusive and unavoidable presences that seemed to occupy more space in his house than Alec, with his quiet, shy and unassuming manner, ever had.
He was about to ask Alec's coffee mug what it thought of the unusually wet weather they were having when the buzzer rang alerting him that someone was downstairs wanting to see him. He pushed the bottom that released the door without bothering to check who it was. There was only one person who would so unceremoniously interrupt his coffee so early in the morning.
"I came to see if you are still talking to the furniture Magnus," Catarina said when Magnus opened his front door a few seconds later. On her way in she handed him a paper bag, Ess-a-Bagel printed on its sides, and the aroma of freshly baked bread emanating from its interior. Catarina had started coming over every couple of days since Magnus called her to tell her that Alec had left, showing up at his door with take-out after work, even though she was usually exhausted after a twelve-hour shift; offering to stay to watch TV or to go to a movie, even though she preferred the theatre and the opera; or inviting him for a walk at the park or for a drink, even though she wasn't much of a walker or a drinker.
"I don't talk to the furniture," Magnus replied, in a tone of indignation that sounded insincere even to his ears. "And why are you here? I thought you were on the day shift."
"That was last week," she replied and looked at Magnus with undisguised concern; "this week I am on the night shift. I told you that when I called yesterday, don't you remember?"
"Of course, I remember," Magnus replied even though, for some reason, he wasn't completely certain he did. "Anyway, to what do I owe this honor?"
"I thought we could have breakfast before I go home and sleep the day away, and I wanted to know how you were holding up," she replied as she made her way to the kitchen, grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and using a simple spell made coffee materialize out of thin air. Catarina refused to drink what she called the "experiment" that Magnus made in Alec's coffee maker arguing that she was exposed to enough biological hazards at the hospital; she didn't need to be poisoned by Magnus. Magnus sat across from her, took a bagel from the brown bag Catarina had handed him and began to break small pieces out of it and put them in his mouth, pretending more than actually eating it.
As she put sugar in her coffee and spread cream cheese and jam on her bagel, Catarina talked about her shift at the emergency room. Magnus listened in silence, glad for both the company and her friend's lack of expectations that he participates in the conversation. When he looked at Catarina, he saw just how tired she was. His friend was strong, probably the strongest person he knew, and she liked her job at the hospital, but night shifts were hard on her and it was obvious that she was sleep deprived. She needs a vacation, he thought and wondered whether Alec would mind if he took Catarina to Paris, or perhaps even Peru for a few days. But then he remembered that Alec was gone, that he was free to go wherever he wanted, and suddenly felt no desire to go anywhere. What is wrong with you? He asked himself not for the first time as his gaze drifted towards the window, Catarina's chatter becoming no more than background noise. Getting away, changing scenery, had always been his way of dealing with painful breakups. He had left London soon after his epic breakup with Camille and there had been Peru all those centuries ago. Travelling had always been a good remedy for heartbreak, but now he felt no desire to go anywhere.
Perhaps the reason was that the more Magnus thought of an adventure that could take his mind off Alec, the more he realized that there was nothing left in the world, safe for perhaps going out in space, that he had not already tried, no places left to see, no adventures left to go on. He had lived so long, seen so much, met so many people, done so many things that when he searched for something new to do, to look forward to, he could not think of anything. Life had become terribly predictable, unsurprising, unappealing, and wandering the world no longer exited him. In the last few weeks, in fact, he had found himself more than once thinking that he had lived too long, and that life no longer held any promises. He knew, of course, that it was dangerous for an immortal to feel this way but, hard as he tried, he could not snap out of it.
"How are you really doing Magnus?" Catarina asked from across the kitchen counter after a moment of silence in which she observed Magnus with the attention she usually reserved for her moribund patients. Magnus, who had been silently looking out the window with a lost expression, turned to look at her and, for a moment, Catarina thought that he had forgotten that she was there.
"I am fine," he replied as he had answered the hundreds of times his friend had asked the same question in the last few weeks. Except for asking how he was doing, she never asked directly about Alec and waited for Magnus to talk if and when he was ready. But Magnus knew that Catarina – his one friend that never seemed to concern herself about anyone other than her patients, the one with the tough exterior and the sharp remarks – was seriously worried about him.
"Magnus, why don't you call the Nephilim boy once and for all and stop moping around the house?" Catarina suddenly and pointedly asked, breaking their unspoken agreement not to talk about Alec. "You are miserable, and I am getting tired of seeing you sulk and do nothing about it."
"I do not mope or sulk," Magnus replied barely feigning outrage, "and as I told you, Alec is in Idris where there are no phones. Besides, he did something unforgivable."
"First of all, Magnus, the lack of phones has never stopped you before. Come on, you are an all-powerful warlock and you were born before telephones even existed! If you wanted to get in touch with Alec, or portal to Idris, you could do it no matter what kind of mundane obstacles, angelic wards or demonic magic tried to stop you. Second of all, you know very well that Alec kissing that other Shadowhunter barely counts as a mistake and that you forgave him even before he took a step out of this apartment. You know, and I know, that was not the reason you asked him to leave." Catarina gave Magnus one of her schoolmaster stares, a stare with the power of freezing a boiling volcano.
"And what, I pray, do you think is the reason I asked him to leave?" Magnus asked, trying once again for outrage, but coming out more wounded than angry.
"You got cold feet!" she replied, her voice gaining in intensity with every syllable. "You realized that what you feel for the boy is more powerful and profound than anything you have ever felt before for anyone. That terrified you, so you did what you always do: find a reason to run away. I know you Magnus. Please don't do this to yourself, or to the Nephilim boy, neither of you deserves it. Alec loves you and you love him. Do you know how rare it is to find someone who loves you as much as you love them? Why are your throwing that love away?"
Magnus realized that this was the longest speech Catarina had ever given him about Alec. In fact, since he first started going out with the Shadowhunter, except for a few sarcastic remarks about Magnus' getting involved with a Nephilim, his friend had remained rather silent on the matter of his recent love life. This was also the first time that she had expressed any positive thoughts on his relationship with Alec. And, there was a wistful tone to her voice, a tone that reminded Magnus that Catarina had loved in the past and that she had not always been loved back or accepted for who she was.
"You don't understand," he replied, giving up on sounding outrageous and letting sadness color his words. "Alec wanted to move in, he wanted to build a life with me, but he was having issues with my immortality, with the fact that I have shared other lives before. I saw the signs, Catarina. I wanted him to move in. I wanted it with all my heart, but what if he realizes in a few months or years that he cannot do it? What if one day he regrets being with someone like me, someone who is half demon?
"Let me get this straight," Catarina interrupted him. "You wanted him to move in, but instead you pushed him away. And, you didn't want to lose him, so instead you left him. I thought you were contrarian, Magnus, but this one takes the cake!" she added throwing her hands up in the air in a gesture of evident frustration.
"He went off and kissed someone else!" Magnus added, fully aware that he was grasping at straws. "I promised myself after Camille that I would not put up with infidelity."
"Is that really the reason Magnus?"
Magnus looked down at the bagel on the counter, the one he had been systemically destroying with his fingers. "Did you know that I am Alec's first relationship, first everything, Catarina?" he asked with a sigh after a long moment of silence. "That is scary. How do I know that he will not realize one day that he is missing out in life by committing himself to me?"
"So, to avoid potential heartbreak you put up your defenses and pushed him away," Catarina stated. "No wonder the poor boy went off the rails. What scares you so much?"
"I couldn't stop thinking that if he stayed, one day I would lose him. He would either leave or die one day. I don't think I can lose one more person I love, Catarina. I just can't. I don't know if…"
"In the centuries that we have been friends," Catarina interjected, her voice full of sadness, "I have learned that the loneliness and loss that are unavoidable conditions of immortality have always been hard for you. You don't do well when you lose people because underneath all that glitter, makeup and hairspray, you have a tender heart, and every time you fall in love, you give all of yourself. But the fear of loneliness and loss is no reason to avoid loving someone, Magnus, especially if they love you back. You know what happens when immortals like us begin to push people away, when we stop searching for connection, when we stop caring. I am worried about you, Magnus. You know what I am talking about; you are too young still to go there."
"I will be fine, Catarina," Magnus said, trying his best to reassure his friend. "You'll see; I will be back to my own self before you know it. Now, stop fretting, go home and get some sleep. Sleep deprivation is horrible for your complexion."
"I have work as an excuse; what is your excuse?" Catarina rebuked, trying, Magnus knew, to sound facetious.
They spoke of other things for a few more minutes until Catarina finished her coffee and then Magnus walked her to the door.
"Please listen to me, Magnus, and call Alec," she said again before she left. "You are lucky to have someone who loves you. Do not waste your time second guessing Alec's intentions. And call me if things get bad."
"I will call you if I start climbing the walls, I promise," Magnus said and, taking Catarina by surprise, hugged her.
Once Catarina was gone, Magnus went to sit by the window and watched her as she left his building and walked off down the street towards the subway. Catarina, as usual, saw right through him. The intensity of his feelings for Alec had frightened him; they have come on so fast that they had caught him by surprise. It was as if Alec had exerted some magic over him; as if Alec had awoken something deep inside Magnus that had been dormant all his life; as if in his usual quiet and stealthy way, Alec had managed to jump over all the walls he had erected around his heart. By the time Magnus realized what was happening, Alec had already staked a claim on his heart, his life and his soul. In fact, Magnus had been hopelessly in love even before Alec had kissed him for the first time. And how not to be? Since that night that he stood at his front door, looking like the dear in the headlights and unable to think of an excuse for being there, Alec had slowly but with surprising determination managed to disarm and surprise Magnus at every turn.
Magnus had been with many people, men and women, downworlders and mundanes. He had been the initiator or had taken the driver seat in many of those relationships. But he had never been with a Nephilim, and certainly not with one so innocent, someone still discovering who they were. With Alec, he had felt compelled to be gentle, to not push too hard or fast. Slowing things down had surprisingly allowed him to enjoy the pleasure of slowly discovering the taste and feel of Alec's lips, the scent of Alec that was particularly strong in the hollow of his collarbone, the playful and rather tentative way in which Alec planted kisses up and down his neck. Each gentle touch of Alec's lips had awakened every nerve ending in Magnus' body.
Magnus had also rejoiced in the sensation of Alec's hair between his fingers, and the way in which thousands of goosebumps rose on Alec's skin when Magnus kissed and whispered little sweet things in his ear. New love was wonderful, full of discoveries, of new touches, tastes and aromas, and Magnus had endeavoured to enjoy each new sensation without expectations or haste, and in the process, he had handed the wheel of their relationship over to Alec.
Taking things slow had been more pleasurable that Magnus ever imagined. It was like stepping to the edge of an abyss and feel the anticipation one feels just before jumping; it was like seeing and smelling a particularly exquisite morsel of food but stopping just before taking a bite. It was delayed gratification taken to such an extreme that it, itself, became pure pleasure. When Alec went home every night, Magnus remained with his heart in suspense, and he spent the time until their next meeting in a constant state of aroused anticipation.
Alec had been, from the start, easy to love: gentle, curious and generous. As he gained confidence in his relationship with Magnus, he had become more audacious, taking more risks, testing, at times, his own limits. Despite their differences in age and experience, he could not help being protective of Magnus, always making sure not to do anything that Magnus did not like, always asking if Magnus was okay. That quality had softened even more Magnus' heart, for he could not remember the last time someone had treated him with such tenderness. He was a powerful warlock and most people expected things from him: services to which they felt entitled and for which they seldomly felt compelled to be thankful. Rarely, had he been at the receiving end of the kind generosity, tenderness and care that Alec so freely and naturally offered him. And now Magnus had sent Alec away and it was as if the ground under his feet had crumbled and there was nothing stopping him from plummeting into the abyss. Without Alec, Magnus felt adrift.
"You need to get out of this apartment," Catarina had told him the first time she found him talking to the empty room. Magnus had reassured her that he was fine, and that he had been going out, and in truth, he had. A couple of days after Alec left for Idris, he had called some old friends and gone out with them for drinks, dancing and even to a show. He had repeated to himself the mantra that he had used many times before: that he was immortal, and immortals should not get bogged down by the comings and goings of those who have fleeting and short lives; that this was not his first heartbreak and would likely not be his last, and that the sooner he got over it, the better for everybody.
Yet, Magnus couldn't shake the memories of Alec even when he was out. They sat with him at the bar; they moved with other shadows on the dance floor; and reached to take a morsel from Magnus' plate the way Alec always did. And, every time Magnus returned to his apartment, the memories of Alec were waiting for him, smiling at him from the sofa, lying on the side of the bed that Alec always occupied, whispering to him in his sleep. Memories of Alec were everywhere in his apartment, just out of sight of visitors. They were relentless, distracting him when Magnus tried to work and meddling in his conversations with clients. They invaded every corner of his life taking the joy out of doings the things he had always enjoyed doing. So, Magnus had decided that he wasn't jet ready to be out or to move on, that there was no use trying to outrun the memories. Instead, he surrendered to their tyranny and resigned himself to live with them until they too decided to leave as Alec had done.
Even now, as soon as Catarina left, the memories of Alec came out of their hiding places and began once again to occupy every nook and cranny of the apartment. There was Alec standing by the window smiling at something Magnus had said, the morning light forming a halo around him that made him look even more like an angel. There was Alec in the kitchen washing dishes or searching for something in the fridge, and on the sofa leaning against him, the way he had done during so many evenings spent together.
There was Alec walking through his front door, silent and with determined steps, taking Magnus' hand and kissing him for the first time, that first unforgettable kiss, that kiss that burned like fire at the same time that it caressed his soul with the touch of an angel's wings. And then, there was Alec that night a few weeks later when they had been kissing on the couch, Magnus' hands tightly fisted in Alec's shirt holding on as if Alec was a life raft and he was adrift in the ocean. Alec had stood up suddenly and had extended his hand towards Magnus. "Take me to bed, Magnus," he had said, and the surprise had been such that Magnus had to exert an inordinate amount of self-control to stop the glamor under which he concealed his warlock mark from burning away. "Are you sure?" Magnus had asked. "There is no rush; we can take things slow."
"I want you Magnus with all my heart, body and soul," Alec had replied, "I have never been with anyone before, and I may not know how to be with you, but I am willing to learn if you are willing to teach me."
The words had burned down the last of the wards Magnus had erected to protect himself. For Alec was putting himself in Magnus' hands, and in the process showing such trust, generosity and openheartedness, that Magnus knew he would do everything in his power and more to never betray the trust that Alec was placing on him.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to or with which you are uncomfortable, Alexander," Magnus had said, taking the hand Alec proffered. "There is no need to rush into things."
It had been Alec the one to guide Magnus by the hand towards the bedroom. "I trust you, Magnus," he had said, "and you can trust me; I will not do anything to hurt you."
That night, Alec had slowly but with determination and increasing passion peeled Magnus' clothes off, planting gentle kisses, savouring him, running soft fingers along his skin as he disrobed Magnus not only of his clothes but also of the last remnants of his defenses. Alec's touches had been light but also full of heat, and he had mapped the geography of Magnus' body as if Magnus was a newly discovered and virgin land and Alec its first explorer.
Magnus had done the same in return, and as he touched Alec's skin for the first time – the curves and plains of his bare chest and back, the hard and strong muscles of his legs and arms – he had felt that he was the luckiest man alive. That night, Alec and Magnus had made magic together, each offering himself to the other without reservation or inhibition, each taking and giving without expectation or greediness. Until then, Magnus had thought that relationships, specially relationships between men required certain amount of negotiation, a moment in which power, control and surrender were asserted or decided. But with Alec, nothing of the sort was necessary. For from the very beginning, theirs had been a relationship between equals, in which each gave themselves to the other with a generosity and reciprocity that increased the pleasure exponentially.
When hours later, Magnus had finally collapsed on top of Alec, his breath coming out in loud and ragged gasps, his body trembling uncontrollably, his mind clouded, he had felt that Alec had just taken him to the very gates of heaven. "Are you okay Magnus?" Alec had asked between ragged breaths of his own as he wrapped his arms protectively around Magnus, his body also trembling from the aftershocks of their shared climax. "Did I hurt you?"
Magnus had looked at Alec with surprise and seeing the shine and the look of concern in his eyes, had felt an uncontained desire to pour his heart out, to tell Alec that even though he had had sex thousands of times, he had never truly made love before until that night. He wanted to tell Alec that after hundreds of years of searching, he had finally found a home in his arms. But not wanting to burden Alec with confessions that he might think were too premature, he had simply kissed him.
After that first time, they had spent many nights and even days in bed getting to know one another, talking, laughing and, of course, making love with increasing hunger, longing and desire, and each one of those unforgettable moments were now replying all around Magnus as if time, past and present, had melted into one.
So stubborn and relentless were Magnus' memories of Alec that they had a will of their own. Lately, they were no longer content with invading his house just by themselves. They also invited other memories and, suddenly, the room was full of people, ghosts from times gone by, figures dressed in Victorian clothes, in intricate Georgian fashion, and in the low waisted dresses and bobbed hairstyles of the 1920s, sometimes speaking all at once, evoking memories Magnus had not recalled in decades and centuries.
In the late 1920s, Magnus spent some time in Spain, and there he met and became friends with Salvador Dali, the painter. On one long evening of shared wine, Magnus and Dali talked "hypothetically" about what it would mean to be immortal, about the weight of carrying an ever-growing baggage of memories of times, places and people long gone. Sometime later, Dali painted his most famous work – the Persistence of Memory, and years later, through a friend he had in the art world, Magnus managed to arrange for the painting to be brought to New York. Every once in a while, Magnus visited the painting now at the Museum of Modern Art and every time he saw it, he thought that no one had ever captured what it meant for an immortal to remember the way Dali had.
Now as the memories of Alec invited others to join them, the present became full of the past, the future disappeared, and time melted away like the watches in his friend Salvador's painting. Seconds became decades full of memories, and hours a millennium of times gone by, of lost loves and lives, of places left behind. Magnus who had promised himself centuries ago that no matter how much loss he experienced, he would always look towards the future, that he would never let the sorrows of the past weight him down, began, because of the memories of Alec, to live in a place full of the past, floating in a sea of remembrance, unaware of time or space, frozen, immobile, petrified like a tree which roots had dug deep underground.
After three days of calling Magnus without an answer, of finding his door locked and warded every time she came by, in a state of anxiety, Catarina decided to use a spell to break through the wards around Magnus' apartment and enter. She hoped to find it empty, perhaps a note on the table letting her know that Magnus had finally decided to take her advice and go after Alec. However, her hopes were quickly crushed. As soon as she opened the door, she knew that her concerns had been warranted. For there was Magnus, sitting by the window, wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the last time she saw him, his eyes milky, his blind gaze lost in the distance, a dark magic shroud covering him like the web of a sinister spider, keeping him suspended in time and space. As she had feared the last time she saw him, her friend had surrendered to the malady that afflicted so many warlocks when they felt they have nothing left to live for. Magnus was rapidly petrifying, his mind meandering somewhere she couldn't reach him, and Catarina feared that it might be too late, that he might be gone to a place from which there was no return.
Sorry it took me this long to post this. I was travelling.