Work Text:
It was a little too early when the alarm clock went off.
The morning light filtered into the bedroom through the blue curtains fluttering against the bedroom window, landing on the duvet and the figure spread on top of it. Magnus groaned and blinked the harsh sun out of his eyes, glancing around the room.
His eyes fell on the clock hanging on the opposite wall.
7:31
Ugh.
Magnus never understood people who woke up early. His own son, Max, enjoyed waking up at Lilith knows what hour, which annoyed Magnus considering how strongly he opposed such action. In fact, he had once tried to explain to his son how waking up at 4:45am might bother some of the other, more sane people living in the house and could he please for the love of God be a little quieter in the early mornings, to which max easily responded: “If the sun is up there is no reason why I shouldn’t be, bapak.”
On a usual Sunday Magnus firmly believed in sleeping in until 9 at the very least, and even then, he preferred having a slow morning of breakfast in bed and Taylor Swift playing somewhere in the background. Unfortunately, today was not that Sunday.
With some effort, Magnus made it out of bed and padded across the room to the bathroom. He shrugged off his silk robe and glanced at himself in the mirror.
Surprisingly he didn’t look as bad as he thought he would. Sleep lidded eyes and messed up hair were to be expected after collapsing in bed haphazardly late at night, and of course his makeup, which he had forgotten to take off, had been smudged so that he looked more like a racoon and less like the glamourous warlock he had been the night before.
Magnus fixed up the makeup, then the hair, then splashed some water on his face in hopes of waking himself up and relieving some of the heaviness that still lingered. Now when he looked in the mirror there was no evidence of the pain the wrapped itself neatly around magnus’ heart.
Once again, Magnus found himself glancing at the time. The golden wristwatch that had been a gift decades ago by Rafael read 8:26. He sighed.
At exactly 8:45 he forcefully pulled himself together and headed out to the New York shadow market.
“Magnus” a voice called from behind him as he turned onto Canal Street.
Magnus turned and smiled.
“Catarina.” he paused and waited for her to catch up. “What are you doing here?”
“I came for the shadow market, like you, I suppose, but it’s lucky I bumped into you, I was planning to come over later to see how you’re holding up.”
She gave him a sad smile. “How are you doing magnus?”
The thing around magnus’ heart tightened.
“What exactly are you looking for in the shadow market Cat?” he asked quickly. “Maybe we could go together?”
Fortunately, Catarina accepted the subject change. “I need new ingredients for a complex healing potion. A warlock in Melbourne got injured from an accident with a bunch of mundanes.” her expression had turned bitter. “Her fins were horribly damaged; she might not be able to make a full recovery.”
Catarina, Magnus knew, had been working tirelessly the past month in helping the downworlders in Melbourne who were facing many troubles with the recent earthquake that had shaken up the country. The mess and chaos had left the downworlders in disarray and needing help that the shadowhunters couldn’t or wouldn’t give.
When Magnus looked at Catarina now, he noticed the deep shadows under her eyes and the exhaustion etched on every crevice of her face. He remembered, decades ago, when Cat had been in the hospital for over 60 hours during the covid pandemic and was on the verge of collapse when Ragnor and Magnus eventually found her. Since then, the two of them had promised each other to be there for Catarina whether that was to support her or, more likely then not, bully her into taking a break.
“Let me help you find the ingredients you need,” Magnus said, feeling guilty for letting his friend suffer alone. “It has been far too long since the two of us have last spent time together, and frankly, I miss it.”
With that he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the New York shadow market.
“5 dollars for a protection charm that will last hours!”
“Step inside and let me tell you your fortune.”
“A one of a kind, well made potion that will completely erase your problems for only 12 dollars!”
At that Magnus turned slightly, his eye catching on the potion the werewolf was waving.
“You can’t be thinking of buying that,” Catarina snorted as she caught him staring at the glittering liquid. “Any potion that’s being sold by a werewolf is almost certainly a fake. Only trust warlocks and Seelies with your potions, that’s the rule if you don’t want to get scammed.”
Magnus grinned at her and continued past the vendors and through the groups of buyers. The shadow market never disappointed, it didn’t matter whether he was looking to buy, to sell, to see, to meet, the shadow market always provided to downworlders who came searching, and this time was not an exception. The busyness and glamour of the place was exactly the kind of distraction Magnus needed today.
The two of them continued zigzagging through the carts and trollies, stopping occasionally to pick up an ingredient for a client or a book on the topic magnus was currently researching.
“Should I be worried?” Catarina asked, as Magnus finished paying for the book Theories of Time, a Warlock’s Perspective.
“Just a project I’ve been working on recently.” He said, tucking the book into his bag where it nestled next to the 2 other books he had already bought today, and waved back at the young boy at the counter who was waving back enthusiastically.
Catarina raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve been thinking about portals.” he elaborated, “The way that you can teleport between 2 places on one plain, imagine it like tearing a hole on the X axis. But what if you could tear a hole on the Y axis, meaning time? What if I could apply the same logic used to create portals to create something that transports you through time?
“it’s just theoretical work for now but,” Magnus gave a tired shrug, “it might end up being something.”
“That’s a dangerous line of thought.” she gave him a serious look. “It better stay theoretical work, or else it could lead to a lot of dark magic.” Like necromancy, was what she wasn’t saying.
“Yes, well…” he let his thoughts trail off.
Catarinas gaze softened. “I know this day is hard for you, and I mean it when I say I am here for you should you need me. But you must not resort to dark magic Magnus. We made a promise to each other, me, you and Ragnor, and I intend to keep it even today.” She paused. “Especially today.”
I wouldn’t, magnus wanted to say, I would never endanger those around me like that. He knew it was easy enough to walk around as a high and mighty warlock, punishing those who even looked at dark magic the wrong way. But when the temptation to use the powers that were gifted to him just to see… No, he would keep those thoughts locked away and hidden deep inside his mind. It was not worth the pain, not worth the horrors that it would inflict on his family and friends. One hard day was simply the price you had to pay for hundreds of happy ones.
Eventually, Magnus and Catarina parted ways a few blocks down from magnus’ loft , hands full with a days’ worth of the market’s wares. Magnus trudged back to the lonely Brooklyn apartment, looking up at the grey clouds that were darkening what was once a blue sky. He had made it only halfway when it started to pour. Hard. Children in the distant parks were being pulled away from wet slides and called inside. People walking home from work opened umbrellas to protect themselves from the brutal downpour. And magnus stood there. Frozen, exhausted, the rain weaving through his hair and snaking down his face into his eyes.
It's not fair, magnus thought bitterly. It’s not fair how easy it was to switch from having a good time with your friend to crying silently in the rain. He didn’t realize, didn’t know how a smell, a word, a feeling can send you spiraling. How loneliness can creep into your bones and pain can take over your heart and yet it is still a day like any other. Nothing changed, nothing happened, no one really knows. Just you, your close friends, and the one lady, running back to her family with a newspaper over her head, who saw you frozen on the side of the street, disguising your tears as raindrops.
Magnus gasped as the thing that had been sitting on his heart all day, grew like ivy until it was tightening in his throat and leaking out of his eyes in tears. He stumbled the rest of his way to the apartment, trying to breathe through the sudden overwhelming agony that had lanced through him.
As soon as he reached the loft he collapsed, drained and tired, as though he had just run a marathon. He wished he could say he was used to the feeling, but he was always surprised by the waves of exhaustion that came after grief.
The floor was wet now, Magnus noted, and so was the coach, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. Heavy weights had fastened themselves to magnus’ limbs, keeping him in place. His phone was on the table buzzing quietly from messages sent by caring friends, raindrops could still be heard hitting the ground outside softly, the fan overhead creating a constant whirring. between the noise and the ringing still in his ears, magnus drifted to sleep.
Bzzzzzzzz
Bzzzzzzzz
Bzzzzzzzz
Magnus startled and violently sat up nearly toppling off the coach in the process. He stumbled to his phone and glanced at the caller.
Max❤️ called 1 minute ago.
shit.
He quickly looked at the time.
17:04
Shit. He was late.
He scrambled into the bedroom, using magic to erase all signs of the meltdown he had had just a few hours ago. He ran into the closet, grabbed the first thing saw- a soft burgundy jacket- and tried summoning a portal to Idris while one hand was tugging boots onto his feet and the other trying to dial max back.
“Bapak?” Max’s voice came through the phone.
“Here, here.” Magnus said hastily. “Sorry, darling. I’m summoning a portal now; I’ll be there in two.”
Magnus could hear the eye roll over the phone. “Bapak, this is really not a time for one of your fashion freak outs.”
“Not a fashion freakout Max, just lost track of time. See you in a sec, bye.” He hung up before Max could retort and stepped through the portal. The green grass and bright sun that greeted him was a stark contrast to the gloomy Brooklyn pavement. Raising his head, he saw Max leaving through the old brick doors of the academy talking to what Magnus assumed was one of his many students.
“No, Lizzie,” Max was explaining to her, “you can’t just walk into the Hotel Dumort and ask a vampire to help you on the presentation, you have to actually put in effort and-” Max cut off his sentence as he caught sight of Magnus.
“Sorry Liz. Would love to help you figure this out, but gotta get going. If you have reasonable questions about your project, you’re welcome to fire message me.” With that he sauntered away, leaving poor Lizzie hovering near the academy, and joined magnus where he was standing at the edge of the academy grounds.
“Didn’t want to say hello to Ragnor?” Max teased.
He shrugged. “I already know what he is going to say.”
Max’s face sobered. “Yeah, I get what you mean. All I’ve been hearing today is Max, are you ok? And Max, do you want to talk about it? I don’t know. I mean, I know they mean well, but yeah, it’s exhausting.”
Magnus’ heart ached with understanding, so he said the words he’s been longing to hear all day.
“Max, do you want a hug?”
Max smiled at him and gave a small nod. Magnus looped his arm around Max and pulled him close and Max leaned his head so that his horns gently poked magnus’ cheek. They held each other tightly like that as if holding all the pieces that were threatening to fall apart until Max pulled out of the embrace gently.
“I guess we should head out now.” He said softly.
Magnus let out a hum of agreement and together they started heading out towards the hills that lay at the edge of Idris. Max had his hands stuffed in the pockets of a red sweater, his all-star sneakers scraped against the ground, turning rocks and dirt over.
“How has teaching in the academy been? Has Ragnor been good to you?” Magnus asked, trying to make conversation.
“It’s been good.” Max replied. “I’ve been teaching the Nephilim some of the Downworlder history. The amount of clueless Nephilim I’ve met is embarrassing, plus I… I think it’s something he would like, you know? Me teaching younger Nephilim how to be kind and fair and good to each other and to downworlders as a whole. Right?” Max met his eyes.
Magnus didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Yes of course, my darling. And I am proud of you too Max, truly I am. “
Max smiled. “I know bapak. I know you are.”
Finally, they reached the ledge on the hill that overlooked the entirety of Idris. As per their tradition they sat down on the ledge, feet dangling over the spread of green, the Demon Towers twinkling in the distance.
The two of them- two people Alec had loved and been loved by- sat together and remembered. Sat together and held one another tightly, like Alec would have wanted.
They sat on that ledge and saw the Alicante Alexander had built. The Alicante Alexander had fought for. The Alicante Alexander had eventually died for.
It was hard to mourn and grieve and cry for a whole day. In magnus’ opinion that was a day too many. But it was easy, so easy to remember his alexander, to sit by max and talk and talk and talk, the words flowing and pouring out of his mouth like a wave crashing down. It was a mess of joy and grief and tears.
Today was just a day. But for magnus, it was day to mourn, a day to remember, a day to cry, a day to comfort and be comforted, a day for his Alexander.
“Bapak.”
“Yes?”
“I miss him.”
“Me too.”