Random OneShots

Hear your voice

By: orionours on Ao3

Malec

~~~~~

Self-confidence. It was something Alec had probably never had, he wasn't born with it. Fear of judgement, the gaze of others... It wasn't for nothing that he'd spent years denying who he really was, and living in Jace's shadow. He had quickly become accustomed to being self-effacing, to being on the sidelines, and very quickly, this daily routine had become something reassuring to him.

Following the ethics, codes and rules dictated by the Enclave and his parents was what he had always more or less done. Living like this gave him a clear conscience. As if it was enough to make up for the sin of his existence. Loving men. There was nothing worse for a Nephilim than to find themselves in this situation.

It had taken him many years to accept, then to assume what he was. Even so, assuming was still a big word at the moment. He no longer counted the number of hours he had spent under his covers, alone while everyone else was asleep, cursing and convincing himself that he was a monster for feeling the way he feels about his parabatai. Locking himself up in work, living for others. It was the only thing he had found to compensate for this flaw. And he had succeeded. He had managed to convince himself that he was happy like that, that as long as those around him were doing well, flourishing, he would live happily. Until Magnus.

From the moment he had met him, the warlock had swept everything away. All the efforts he had made to live properly, hidden away from the world. In one simple encounter with his two magnificent feline orbs, everything had collapsed. Like a house of cards.

After his meeting at the Pandemonium, Alexander had never felt so bad. All those negative feelings he had buried deep inside, that sadness and longing to be nothing. It had all come up that night. Again he felt dirty, repulsive for having found this man magnificent, interesting, goddamn beautiful. He had then withdrawn a little more into himself without anyone suspecting anything. Everyone was far too busy dealing with Clary's case to pay any attention to him. Everyone except Magnus, again.

The warlock had quickly realized that approaching the Nephilim would be long and tumultuous. And yet, he had not given up, he had held on, until he broke. He was perfectly aware of this evil that was perpetually eating away at him. One look was enough for him to understand that the life Alexander Lightwood had built for himself was a web of lies. A web of lies that, with time, had become nothing but a cruel truth. No matter what he might say, the Shadowhunter was unhappy. He lived in hiding, constantly. Even on the rare occasions when he found himself in the light, Jace's larger, bigger, brighter light obscured it. And to be honest, Magnus had never understood why.

How could someone as beautiful, amazing, loyal and loving as Alexander, how could someone so pure in all that he was, live constantly in the shadows? Had no one noticed his kindness, his goodness of spirit? No one had paid any attention to his intelligence and good behaviour? It was beyond him. In more than four hundred years of existence, he had never met a person as fascinating as he was. And that night, the night they first met, he had promised himself. He would pull him into the light.

One thing led to another and after months of struggle, Alec finally gave in. He had finally surrendered into his arms, and Magnus understood that a heavy sword of Damocles was now hanging over his head. He loved him. More than he had ever loved in his long, endless life. If Alec were to leave him, he would be nothing. Even worse than the day Camille had walked out on him. He would embellish his daily life, make him slowly forget all the mistakes he had made in the past, sweeping away his debauched life with a simple smile. No, really, he couldn't see his life without him.

Yet something was bothering him. Even after these few months spent by his side as a couple, Alec remained restrained. Continually. As if he was afraid to say or do something wrong. He had no trouble seeing it, in the way he pursed his lips for long seconds before finally speaking, or that nasty habit he had of leaving his arm hanging down, before finally reaching for a cup of coffee, or the glass that was still in the cupboard. Little details that no one seemed to notice, and yet did not go unnoticed. At least not to his eyes.