Malec One-shots

His fault

Magnus could barely let himself into his flat. He was shaking, and he dropped the key. He angrily hit the door, wincing at the pain where he’d been stabbed. Finally, after three tries, he got in. He threw his jacket down, slumping onto the sofa. Damn this. He knew better. He was eight hundred years old. He was better than this. He always had an air of mystery about him. Always kept something from his lovers – his immortality was that wall. It always kept them separate.

So why? Why had he thrown that away over some temporary mushy feelings? He was Magnus Bane. Magnus had love, but he also had the upper hand. So…why? Why was he wrapped so tightly around that boy’s little finger? Why was he playing his fool? Why had he given up his life for that lying, cheating little brat?

He curled up in a ball, angrily crying out. He was so angry at Alec, at himself for letting Alec lead him on. For losing his life for him. He struck out at his head angrily, and a row of books came flying off their shelf. No. He covered his ears as other things fell off. His magic was out of control. No. No. No. Stop it Magnus. Stop it. His parent’s yells were echoing in his ears. Telling him to stop it. He kept playing back his mother’s death, his father’s death. He felt the lashes across his back, and it made him more distressed.

He couldn’t do this. It wasn’t fair. Alec was to blame for this. He was to blame for getting Magnus so worked up, so pained. It was his fault he was losing control. It was his fault he was this freakish.

But…Magnus couldn’t do anything to that boy. He was now shockingly mortal, and had no time to mourn the death of their relationship. He had to… to think clearly. Stop trashing his apartment. He just had to do something, anything to make it stop; and then he could figure this out.