All I Want For Christmas Is You - a Magnus/Alec fanfiction

Chapter 12 - December 12th - Alec

December 12th - Alec

The bell tolls of midnight punctuate our words as the new day takes over the old one, caught briefly in suspension of not quite yesterday and not quite tomorrow.

"You go."

"No, you go."

"No, you go."

"Fine!" Magnus says. "We'll both go."

As we fall quiet again - Magnus perhaps hoping the same as me; that maybe we just heard wrong - my heart drops. From the next room, there's a hiccuping gulping sound of a sob, attempted at being muffled. I glance at Magnus. I'm terrible with tears, terrible with trying to comfort or console. But I know that we have to go check Toby's okay. He's our responsibility after all. And he needs to know that, shadowhunter or not, he's allowed to be sad, or scared. He doesn't have to be this perfect model of bravery all the time. Magnus gets out of bed and I notice he's slept in his clothes from yesterday. They're rumpled from sleep and his collar is open at the top two buttonholes. His hair is messy, hair stuck up in peaks. His eyes lock on mine.

"Are you sure we should do this?" I ask. I don't know what to do for the best. The fact he's muffling his sobs makes me think he doesn't want anyone to hear, like we're invading his privacy even listening in. But then, he's upset. It seems cruel to do nothing.

"He's crying, Alec. We have to." He replies.

I sigh. "I know, I know. You're right."

And we leave the room.

In the room beside Magnus's is Toby, the door closed. We fall silent and, sure enough, there's a muffled sob from the other side of the door. My heart twists. My hand hovers, curled into a fist, up to the door. I glance at Magnus, who nods, and then I knock.

"Toby?" I ask softly.

He doesn't reply but the crying abruptly stops. We're embarrassing him. When he doesn't respond, Magnus tries.

"Can we come in, biscuit?"

Silence.

"Okay, we're coming in."

Magnus nudges me forward and I poke my head around the door.

"Hey, Toby." I say, and turn on the lamp on the table by the door. The lamplight illuminates the boy, laid with his face in his pillow, his narrow shoulders shuddering minutely.

"'You okay?" Magnus asks, following me into the room.

Toby mumbles something inaudible into his pillow. His shoulders shudder as he speaks and I glance at Magnus. I didn't hear whatever he just said, and neither did Magnus, clearly.

"What's that, biscuit?" Magnus asks, kneeling down beside the bed.

I follow suit, a fair deal more awkwardly, and pat the duvet over Toby's shoulder, sitting myself on his bed. He gulps against the pillowcase his face is buried in and I lay my hand flat on the bedclothes, smoothing the material in a way I hope is comforting.

"I miss my mom." Toby repeats thickly, and his shoulder heaves under my touch. "It'll be my first Christmas without her and I miss her so much. I...I don't understand. It's not fair. I just want my mom."

My heart contracts. My parents might have been away in Idris for 99% of the year during my childhood, but they always came home for Christmas. I can't imagine what it would be like with no family - no parents, no siblings, nobody - at Christmastime. Toby's ten, and doesn't have a soul in the world looking out for him. Or, at least, he didn't. But now he has us, and Izzy and Jace, and Clary and her family. But that doesn't make things much easier on him, I suppose.