daydream. // jalec + malec

warzone.

Alec couldn't recall how precisely he had ended up in Jace's room. He had been walking in a trance-like state of concealed panic ever since hearing the news that his Parabatai was missing, and after spending two long hours consoling his sister and discussing possible tactics of battle with Magnus he had stumbled to the familiar space at the very end of the long central hall, collapsing into his own bed and struggling to force his eyes closed. The attempt soon proved futile, however, for after ten minutes spent staring blindly at the ceiling Alec found himself pushing his legs into a standing position once more, taking steps that he barely even felt and ending up on the other side of the Institute, past a sleeping Isabelle and Magnus as he quietly read through leather-bound spell books in the newly reconstructed library.

     Taking a deep breath through lungs that felt as thick as sandpaper, Alec's fingers gripped the gold-plated latch, the one that had been originally carved in the appearance of an angel's wing but had long since lost its shape, the metal worn smooth by decades of careless handling.

     For the most part, everything had been left untouched--maybe, Alec thought, a sharp pang of terror beginning to creep into his chest, a little too untouched. The sheets on the bed remained perfectly folded, the curtains closed, his weapons belt still hanging haphazardly from a latch on the east wall. Absently, Alec ran his hand along the edge of the desk in the center of the room, gaze raking over its surface, taking in the cluttered stash of spare steles, witchlights, and a copy of an ancient spell book that Jace had recently began reading, the pages still folded and stained with smeared fingerprints. Almost on instinct, in an action that was completely out of his control, Alec's eyes came to rest on a color photograph that was hidden expertly behind a stack of Jace's endless supply of leather jackets, a momento that he would have missed completely had he not been looking for it. Every other part of Jace's room was that of a typical Shadowhunter, all pale colors and scattered swords and discarded gear, hints of black and gold covering the walls as if they had been painted with the essence of the blonde warrior's soul--but here, locked safely in a dark corner, masked from sight from everyone else who entered, lay the one sentimental item that Jace Wayland allowed himself to keep.

     It had been taken one summer prior, on a rare afternoon when the Shadowhunters had ventured out of the prison-like doors of the Institute and conducted a training session outside, in the blistering heat that Alec could now feel against his skin as clearly as if he had traveled back in time, as if he could still view, in person and in vivid untouched detail, the way the sun had created an ethereal halo in Jace's bronze hair as he smiled widely at the camera, his eyes shining with a ferocity that rivaled the city lights around him. With one arm around Clary's waist and a hand placed lightly on his Parabatai's shoulder--who in turn was staring at him as fondly as if he had singlehandedly strung all of the stars in the galaxy, brown eyes wide and sparkling with the sort of affection that no one else had ever been the recipient of--Jace stood on the bottom step that led to the Institute's entrance, a beaming Isabelle just behind the trio, an uncomfortable-looking Simon staring off into the woods next to her.

     Smiling fondly Alec clutched the photograph to his chest, closing his eyes and wishing, hoping against all possible hope, that it could bring him back, that the mere thought of Jace would cause him to reappear in front of him as if he had never been taken at all. With a deep, broken sigh Alec sat on the edge of Jace's bed, inhaling the intoxicating scent of cologne that clung to the fabric of his pillow like a ghost, his heart thudding uncomfortably against his ribcage, his breath catching in his throat.

     Alec was so caught up in reliving memories and wondering how things had gotten so terribly twisted that he didn't notice Magnus standing in the doorway until a gentle cough brought him back to reality, and hesitantly, almost as if he were ashamed of what his boyfriend may see written across his features as if they were an open book, lifted his head to meet the warlock's gaze that was, as usual, unwavering and inexplicably understanding. "How long have you been standing there for?" Alec whispered, all too aware of the fact that he was still holding Jace's photo so tightly his knuckles were white from where they grasped the frame. Sheepishly and reluctantly he set the item back down on the table, where it sounded with a definitive thud that roared like thunder as it came into contact with the tension in the air.