#alecsbitchesnet

Alec will not make you pie

He doesn’t have any pie ingredients genius

He doesn’t even know how to fucking make it jfc

12. go out to see a movie

He almost backs out the moment he leaves his room, feet creaking on the hardwood of the hallway so loud Alec wonders if the whole world can hear it. It’s a deep breath that trembles down his throat and a rough tug at his long sleeves that has him moving forward again, shifting across the floor in worn socks that do nothing to stop the creaking of the wood.

He’s got his hand on the doorknob by the time he halts again. It feels like more than metal in his hand, like a promise and an acknowledgement both at once. He’s almost scared to turn it, like if he does he’s admitting to all the things he’s trying not to face.

The door clicks open with a creak.

“Jace?” he calls out cautiously, not stepping through but instead remaining rooted to the spot. There’s a boy on the bed who looks up at the wavering tones of hesitation, blond hair tousled from an imaginary wind.

He frowns at Alec, folds in flawed tan skin as his eyebrows draw deeper into uncertain gold eyes. “Yeah?” he questions roughly, watching his brother with something that could easily be perceived as quiet concern.

Alec swallows, thumb running along the ridges in his frayed sweater so hard he thinks they might be imprinted across his skin. Or maybe that’s not the imprints of his sweater he’s feeling, maybe it’s the imprints of sleepless nights and the demons he can’t carve out of himself no matter how hard he tries.

He swallows again, this time to dislodge the monster clinging to the walls of his throat.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests as casually as he can manage. It’s not enough, Jace is still looking at him like he can see all the demons hidden under the faded long sleeves he never takes off but when he’s trying to banish them. Still, Jace is his brother and his parabatai and his best friend and he knows Alec better than he sometimes knows himself.

So instead of saying anything about the claw marks he knows all too well mar the other’s body, Jace just tosses him a wayward half-smile and shrugs his shoulders non-nonchalantly.

“We learn best – and change – from hearing stories that strike a chord within us.” — John Kotter.