Alec’s more sentimental than he lets on. he thinks it's probably in the job description, the way he remembers feelings in abstract phrases and moments in quarter notes.
.
the sun is blinding and Alec has a hangover and there's definitely sand in places sand shouldn't even be able to get to and sure there's a part of Alec that's angry-- at the wandering sand, the blinding sun that makes him swear he can still smell the vodka seeping from his pores, at the stranger still in his bed but--
over it all he's pissed at himself. more than that, he's tired and more than a little sad and despite the disgusting cologne clinging to him, he feels lonelier than ever.
smaller than the grain of sand clinging to his ankle.
he wonders sometimes in long nights away from home, when the stage lights blind him but do nothing to shield him from a roaring crowd-- would he change things? if he could, would he go back to when his dad was someone to look up to and not something better left ground beneath his heel? would he reverse course and never show his passion project to Mr. Carstairs, the kind music teacher who saw more than he let on? God, would he prefer to be Mr. Lightwood, attorney at law, and not Alec, grammy award winning singer-songwriter?
right now Alec doesn't have an answer.
the beach is quiet and he's glad to be alone. like this, it's easier to pretend that loneliness is a choice and there's no Jace or izzy to shake him out of his wallowing.
there are worse places for a pity party, Alec supposes with a wry grin. watching the sun rise over a beach in Bali isn't a bad place to be, even if Alec wants to crawl out of his skin.
he doesn't know how much longer he can do this. he's only 23 but sometimes it feels like he's given everything to a career that wants nothing more than to chew him up and spit him right back out.
there has to be more to this life, his life. by God he has what most can only dream for and he's sitting here feeling sorry for himself.
it's shameful. he should be ashamed of himself.
still. Alec looks back over his shoulder, at the curtains blowing through the open doors of the bungalow he'd rented for the week. he can't see the man inside but he doesn't need to, doesn't want to.
he doesn't even know the man's name. he doesn't want to know that either.
Alec feels empty. there's something missing and he can just about put his finger on it but there's a bigger piece of him that's afraid of being right than is smug at having the answer.
because Alec knows what he's missing but he's goddamned if he can find a solution. he's starting to think that this is all that's left for him-- anonymous fucks in locales he can barely speak the language of, pouring himself onto stage night after night hoping the crowd can give him his sense of self back, building his armor piece by piece until no one knows that Alec lightwood is wondering if this whole fame thing isn't too much to handle after all.
this is all that's left for him. choices that lead to the same damn place, a maze of paint by numbers but the picture never changes and it paints Alec as both a bit of a fool but a bigger bastard because he refuses to let anyone see that he's more than a bit fucked up.
he's only 23 but he feels ancient. not for the first time he wonders if there's someone out there who could smooth down his edges. he wonders if he can be that for someone else.
as he squints into the dawn of another day, stinking of vodka and muddied regret, Alec scoffs.
he's Alec lightwood after all. happily ever after was never in the cards for him, not from the moment he signed that record deal and decided to chase success even if it dragged him straight to hell and to hell with anything that got in his way.
his phone vibrates, shakes Alec from his morose thoughts. fishing the damn thing takes until the final ring but Alec manages to answer in time.
"what's up, lyd?"
Lydia laughs and Alec can picture his manager halfway across the world, working hard at her desk no matter that it's almost midnight.
"I know you're probably enjoying some well deserved time off after your tour wrapped but boy do I have a proposition for you."
Alec perks up, listens attentively as he takes in the scene around him. yeah, he's in paradise but he's already feeling the familiar itch to leave.
work's as good an excuse as any. Alec figures he can distract himself and puts all his chips into working himself to the bone so he doesn't gave to think about these feelings that have started to dig their claws into him.
he's Alec lightwood after all. he knows what people want from him and who is he to disappoint.
he gives and he lets them take and through it all he wonders what'll be left of him at the end.
