Even A High Warlock Can Feel Low

 A/N: This is my first request, I'm so nervous. Magnus' name is mentioned over a hundred times, I am so sorry. 

Warnings for self-harm, self-depreciation, and mentions of blood.

Alec has been faced with many strange sights when entering the loft...

There was the time when Izzy had been working on her prom dress and she had, with Magnus' permission, draped lace over every available surface. There'd also been the time where Chairman had assembled a gang and they'd wrecked absolute havoc, leaving paw prints and scratch marks everywhere. He'd even once walked in to see Catarina and Dot having a heated argument in what he'd later learnt was Latin slang, the two of them talking so loud the windows had been quaking. Not to mention that unfortunate instance where Magnus had been hexed to leave mini cacti in his path and he'd been pacing while constructing a potion, resulting in an impromptu garden dotted with the occasional hazardous ingredient.

...But he's never walked into absolute silence before.

Neither he nor Magnus are fans of silence as they both agree it's counter-intuitive and unnecessarily stressful so there's always something going on in the loft, even if it's just a random vinyl playing softly. Alec is therefore immediately on alert when he opens the door and hears the worrying sound of nothing.

There's a brief moment when his stomach twists and his heart freezes and his blood hardens but then he's gritting his teeth and pulling the shards of his anxiety together because his love for Magnus outweighs any kind of panic he might feel like crumpling into or explosively releasing. His mind whirls faster but it whirls with a single goal: he has to find Magnus.

"Magnus?" he calls hesitantly, shutting the door behind him with one hand on his stele in case he needs to quickly a rune to defend himself.

"Mags?" he says it louder this time, moving through the apartment, mentally ticking off each room as he finds it empty. Or at least, empty of his warlock. Their rooms are full because they're both sentimental and always find some sort of souvenir from wherever they go and Alec can usually stare at them, reminiscing, for hours on end but, right now, he can't think about anything other than the location of his favourite high warlock.

"Magnus!" Alec all but bellows as he reaches their bedroom, knowing there's nowhere left for him to look and hoping, hoping harder than he's ever hoped before.

He doesn't know if he wants to go in because he can't decide whether he wants Magnus to be inside or not. His absence would be a preferable explanation for the silence but he doesn't want to have lost Magnus either. He can't lose Magnus; losing Magnus would be akin to losing himself. Taking a breath, he pushes the door open with his foot.

Metal.

He can smell metal.

But it's not metal.

It's the kind of metallic scent that can only be smelt when someone is bleeding but simply allowing the blood to flow – or encouraging it – rather than attempting to stop it. It's the kind of metallic scent usually found on a battlefield or in the training area. It's the kind of metallic scent that doesn't belong in the place you identify as home.

"Magnus?!" Alec drops his stele.

He can hear it now, the rapid mumbling his mind had blocked out when trying to ascertain the origin of the metallic smell. It's a harsh mumble, clearly not meant to be overheard, jagged and broken. Alec can hear the pain in his favourite voice and it breaks his heart. He stills, his muscles refusing to move as his brain tries to catch up with his emotions, his ears begging him to go and stop the words, the horrible words, the words that shouldn't be allowed to exist and sadly, the words Magnus seems to be muttering over and over and over and over again.