#post 3a

Birthdays have never held much weight for Magnus - it’s difficult, to consider it anything special, with the life he's led.

Every year he marks the date that Ragnor had chosen for him, December eight (because Ragnor always insisted that it was important to mark it, as an event, for the barest hope that he won’t get swept away by the ceaseless passing of time, that he’ll have some sort of anchor to hold onto), but he doesn’t go out of his way to celebrate it. He’s not like Ragnor, he can’t celebrate time as though it’s a gift, and he most certainly doesn’t need the reminder, of all the tragedy his existence has brought others, of all that time has taken away from him.

It’s more than a little jarring, for his birthday to come around with so much meaning, now that his immortality is gone, and the friend who’d brought him the day along with it.

Magnus wakes up to an empty bed, which seems pretty on-par for how he already feels about the day. There’s a small, foolish part of him that hopes it won’t set the tone, but he doesn’t have a lot of faith in it - he can’t.

A lot of his decisions are made in that vein of thought, these days. He can’t afford to be careless, can’t take risks the same way that he used to, because there’s no safety net to catch him if he falls, no quick-fix for his mistakes.

It’s made him a lot more cynical - he’d thought he had already hit his peak, but it appears as though there’s another mountain after it, with nothing but clouds of pessimism before him.

There haven’t been many respective upsides to his new, mundane way of life; Alec, bless his beautiful heart is trying as best he can to help Magnus feel better, but there are some cold patches that not even his warmth can reach.

(Still. They say it is the thought that counts, and Alec’s dedication is almost as strong as his follow-through.)

There’s a slight rap on the door, a two-knuckled knock that allows Magnus a few seconds to pull himself up into a sitting position before Alec is poking his head around the corner, tousled hair in disarray, a hesitance to his gaze.

“Good morning,” Alec smiles, and it’s like the break of the sun’s rays through stormy dark clouds, splitting and warm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake.”

Magnus shrugs his left shoulder, running a hand through his tangled bed-hair. He misses the ease of the most simplest tasks the most, he’s discovered. The ability to fix even the slightest inconvenience with just a quick snap of his fingers-

“Surprise.” Magnus doesn’t force a smile, just lets it sit, distant but there .

He knows that he couldn’t get through this without Alec, and it’s that knowledge that makes the sacrifice worth it; he’d do it all over again, without question.

(He’d go to unthinkable lengths for Alec.)

“I thought the surprises were supposed to be up my sleeve.” Alec comments, crossing the room. “This is your day.”

“Can’t we share it?”

Alec shakes his head, fondness lighting him up like his atoms are made of affection. “Afraid not.”

He leans in, cupping Magnus’ cheek and kissing him, patient and soft, from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Happy birthday,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to Magnus’ cheek. “Thank you for being born.”

Magnus curls his hand around Alec’s wrist. “You say that as though I had a choice in the matter.”

“It doesn’t matter to me - just that it happened.” Alec drops another kiss, this time to Magnus’ temple, an aching tenderness to the touch. “I love you.”

Magnus rests his forehead against Alec’s. “If you really loved me, you’d get back into bed - that position can’t be too comfortable for a giant such as yourself.”

“I’m supposed to be cooking you breakfast.” Alec murmurs, his gaze hooded - he skips over the giant comment, and Magnus isn’t sure if he should feel grateful; it’s meant to poke fun, for Alec is quite clearly not a giant, nor even that much taller than Magnus, but it wasn’t carried by all that much humour.

“Then again, it was also supposed to be a surprise.” Alec admits, after a moment, his voice just above a whisper.

“Burning down my kitchen is a peculiar gift, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Alec hums, a slip of laughter escaping between his parted lips. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Breakfast is actually something I can cook pretty well, I used to do it for Izzy and Jace all the time. Training with an empty stomach never ends well.”

Magnus tips his head back, looping his arms around Alec’s neck. “Now you’ve spiked my curiosity. What did you have in mind?”

Alec grins, opening his eyes slowly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ah, now that I can still keep a surprise.” He kisses Magnus again, relaxed and measured, before pulling back. There’s something, more than just kindness in his gaze, more than just consideration to the tugged-up corner of his smile. “I know that birthdays have never been a highlight for you - they’re not my favourite events, either. But this is the first time I get to celebrate with you, and I … I want to make this a good day, if you’ll let me. But only if you’ll let me.”

Magnus’ heart aches for how much he loves this wonderful man before him; it’s impossible and undeniable, all the same. “Breakfast sounds lovely.”

Alec nods, and Magnus thinks that he would have agreed even if he wasn’t hungry - Alec needs something to do, a task to focus on, to pour all of his energy into, and even something as everyday as making breakfast appears to put more iron in his veins, strength and determination taking over from his worry.

He does that, a lot. Worry. About Magnus, especially, now that he’s magic-less. Mundane. Empty.

It’s sweet, if a little overbearing at times, but Magnus knows that is just Alec’s nature - he needs to feel useful, to help wherever he can. If making breakfast makes him feel like he’s doing something, then it’s hardly a chore for Magnus to indulge him; after all, ensuring that Alec is okay is pretty much all that Magnus has the energy to care about, these days.

There’s a stranger in the mirror.

His skin is pale, his cheeks sunken, his mouth a tight, thin line, a shadow in the background of his gaze, flickering and dark. There’s no cat-eye slit, no gold, no spark. Just a plain, normal brown. Nothing extraordinary, nothing special, nothing magic .

Magnus doesn’t recognise the man in the mirror, though they wear the same face, and move the same way. It’s been a month - or, maybe two, time is slippery these days - but he can’t seem to reconcile his new life with who he’s always been.

Alec seems certain that he’ll get his magic back, one day. Catarina insists that he’s mourning what he’s lost; both agree that he’s going through a period of inevitable grief. Yet, neither of them, in their infinite wisdom, have ever been as critical towards Magnus as he is.

Pity is easy. It’s maintaining faith, in himself, most of all, that’s the hardest - being a warlock is all he has ever known, and even with all of the trouble it’s brought him, all of the near-death experiences, the passing of his mother, the countless losses he’s endured … his magic is everything. Or, it was .

It is, he believes, the worst loss he’s ever experienced; in a way, a part of him has died, and he has to learn how to begin again, how to exist without this vital part of himself. It’s exhausting, in more ways than one, and Magnus is losing out on hope that he’ll ever return to any semblance of who he used to be.

He wants to, because living as a ghost is no life to live - he just, doesn’t have the same fire anymore. Not even his many years of experience have taught him how to deal with this new life he’s found himself in.

Celebrating his birthday feels like going through the motions of somebody else, somebody he’s expected to be, not who he truly is - but, then, Alec is putting so much energy and love into this that Magnus can’t find the strength to admit it.

If nothing else, this will at least be a good day, because Alec is here, and he’s smiling, and those are two of Magnus’ favourite things in the world.

“See? No smoke.”

Alec looks so immensely proud of himself, with his whisk-taker apron, an old gift from Isabelle he’d recently dug up, tied around his waist. It’s hard not to smile.

“I’m very impressed.” Magnus tugs his robe closer, part of him wishing it would serve as a binding to keep himself together as well. “So, what is on the menu?”

Alec nods towards the table, which is laden with immeasurable goods. “Croissants, both almond and chocolate, from Elsie’s; raspberry and white chocolate mini-muffins that I made yesterday; and blueberry pancakes with maple syrup. And coffee, of course.”

“Best not to forget the most important part,” Magnus acknowledges, in a distant voice, too swept up in pure awe.

Alec did all of this … for Magnus.

“Alexander, this is - too much.” Magnus’ hands tremble against his abdomen. “You didn’t have to go to all of this effort just for me.”

“I was in the mood for pancakes.” Alec winks, but his carefree attitude doesn’t last long, his grin fading into something more melancholy, but no less sincere. “I wanted to do this for you, Magnus. You deserve this - you deserve everything. I’m just trying to give you what I can.”

Magnus shakes his head, an undeniable lightness soaring within him. “You, my love, are all I need.”

Alec’s cheeks burn a fervent pink, but he doesn’t back down, either. “So, I went to all of this effort for nothing?”

Magnus glances at the spread of breakfast foods, ignoring the tiny pang in his chest. Relationships take effort, a tiny voice whispers in the echoes of his dark mind.

“Not at all.” Magnus summons a smile, and by some grace of the universe, it doesn’t fail him. “Alexander, this is wonderful, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

Alec shrugs, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s your birthday. This was the least that I could do.”

“You say that as though it isn’t a respectable feat,” Magnus nods towards the table. “For the organisation required, if nothing else. It means a lot to me, Alexander. Thank you.”

“Well,” Alec busies himself at the coffee machine, the low whir serving as background noise for his floundering. “I’m glad you - appreciate, it.”

Magnus walks towards Alec slowly, not wanting him to be spooked, yet also not being able to withstand the distance for much longer. He loops his arms around Alec’s waist, tucking his head against Alec’s neck, drawing what little strength he can from the surety of Alec’s shoulders and the warmth that radiates off him.

Alec gives Magnus the sense that he can take on the world, when he barely has the energy to even get out of bed. And then he makes breakfast .

“Hi,” Alec whispers, slipping Magnus’ ‘M’ mug onto the metal tray. “You’re very affectionate this morning, you haven’t even had any breakfast, yet.”

Magnus drops a kiss to the hinge of Alec’s jaw. “Did you lace it with a love potion or something?”

“As if I know anybody that would give me one of those,” Alec quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a tiny smirk. “I’m just trying to figure out what has gotten you so - cuddly.”

He doesn’t mention that Magnus used to be touchy, before, much more than this, that he’s always been the more tactile partner in this relationship - he doesn’t mention any of it, but he doesn’t have to.

Magnus is re-learning how to touch, without the buzz of energy under his skin, the zap on contact, the warmth that sparks when his magic recognises the person he’s touching - he’s learning how to push past the emptiness, how to keep it from dragging him under the weight of his own sadness.

This is a big step, and he hates that it’s such an accomplishment for him to hug his own boyfriend, but he’s also not going to ignore the fact that it is, for him, quite the milestone.

“I’ve missed you,” Magnus explains. “ This. Us, in this way. I know that I haven’t-“

Alec’s hand curls over Magnus where it rests against Alec’s hip. “You haven’t been through just an ordinary bad day, you’ve had your entire sense of being stripped away. You don’t owe me, or yourself, or anybody else anything , okay? You set the pace, and I’ll follow as closely as you want.”

“I always want you right beside me,” Magnus murmurs, burrowing his face against Alec’s cheek. “I'm just worried that I might be … holding you back. Holding us, back.”

Alec gently nudges Magnus’ shoulder, turning in his arms until they’re facing each other, his hands coming up to wrap around Magnus’ neck. Magnus, after a few hesitant and heavy seconds, rests his hands on Alec’s waist, his fingers bunched up in the fabric of his black t-shirt.

“Magnus.” Alec’s gaze skitters across Magnus’ face, his sincerity strong enough to drown in. “I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that - what you’re going through is awful, and I won’t pretend that I know what it’s like because I don’t , but I can promise that I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. This is an obstacle, probably the biggest one you’ve ever had to overcome, but still an obstacle - you’ll get through this, because you’re the strongest person I know, and far bigger than anything that wants to keep you down.”

Alec strokes his thumb against the curve of Magnus’ ear, his cuffs long since locked away with the rest of his jewelry. “All the same, it’s okay if it’s not easy. It’s okay if you don’t want to get out of bed, if you hate the world, if you want to invent a time machine just to go back before everything went wrong - that’s okay. It doesn’t mean that you’re going backwards, or going stale or anything like that.”

Alec’s smile turns wry, and a little deprecating. “It just makes you human. Sorry, it kinda sucks, sometimes.”

Magnus shrugs, his hands tightening their grasp. “It’s not all that bad, I suppose. I’ve got you by my side, after all. Things could be a lot worse.”

Admitting it aloud lets a slow realisation sink in; being human, as Alec put it, is his new normal, and things could really be a hell of a lot worse.