y o u t u b e. - [fierrochase]

chapter ten

we have a ton of things here about their backstories so enjoy just a bit of angst and by a bit I MEAN A LOT

IM SORRY ;-; i've been quite sad these past few days, probs bc i don't take meds anymore idk

also, trigger warning. i'm sorry. it's part of the plot—if you get triggered easily, i advice you don't read much of this chapter. it's quite detailed.

;

Magnus Chase wasn't the greatest tinge of normal in this world. He always wakes up either too early, or too goddamn late. He eats twice a day, or four times, not three like the standard meals you must take. He wasn't a fan of being too perfect or having the symmetry of his room, or having to deal with decorations. He dreaded the color blue, which wasn't something you'd usually hate because 1.) the sky is blue, the sky is a great part of Magnus' existence. And 2.) because it was everywhere. Magnus even hated to deal with color, usually he'd just go with black, gray, white or green—if he felt colorful enough.

And Magnus Chase, as you all thought he was, was a very awkward person when it came to things about him. Okay, maybe he wasn't awkward around the thought of talking about his life and making the chachings ching when he tear himself down just to entertain (like me) people that watch him. For example, recreating that time when he was hiking with his mum and he almost fell off the mountain side because of a sock not being tucked in his shoe properly. Sure, it didn't leave him with a mental note to not give a shit about what was wrong with everything.

And apart from being a clumsy piece of awkward shit, Magnus Chase was also very deep in that hole called anxiety. Yes, isn't that precious? No. It isn't. It never is. And Magnus hates it so goddamn much.

Oh, not when he's sleeping at night and he ends up waking up with sweat running down his body and he's filled with the thoughts of how imperfect he was. No, he was used to that. The thought of being flawed did wake him up sometimes, from a dream or just a sudden reminder from his brain that keeps on telling him that there was something else to think about. He was very used to the voices whispering behind his ears telling him what he can and cannot be—or just some occasional haters telling him he looked like shit.

Which he was, he wasn't complaining. He was literally shit, and there was nothing else he could do about that simple fact about him. But then again, no. He didn't hate his anxiety when it reminded him of how much of a shitpick he was. Or when it shook him awake with the thought of just drowning in his medicine that slowly tasted like poison every time.

No, he didn't hate his anxiety for something he was accustomed of.

But he did hate his anxiety today.

When he was face to face with Alex Fierro and all he could think about was the fact that if ever something bad happens with all the shipping and shit like that, Alex would drift away from him. People will start assuming they're dating, and Alex wouldn't surely be on board with that. After all, they just met. They can't even guess their way out of some questions about each other. They are puzzle pieces that are scattered, without anything connecting them—just some angles and rows that needed to fit within each other.

No, they weren't connected yet. They weren't something you could see as each other or as the other—no. They weren't a thing by themselves, just a ship called out by the many riches of the internet. And no, Magnus wasn't going to talk to Alex about that at all. Not when he thought Alex felt awkward about this kind of stuff. He knew she'd not be okay with it. It would ruin their blossoming friendship.

Or at least, that's what Magnus thinks.

Meanwhile, Alex was falling apart. Her mind had told her thousands of times that—shit. That that bet with Sam wasn't something she should take seriously, not when Magnus was a precious human being who she adored so much but couldn't play. She couldn't do it, okay?

She was a ticking time bomb, a grenade unpinned. She was the twisting gears of a malfunctioning machine—she was a catastrophe. And she didn't want Magnus to see her, not as she really was. Not because she would be a ruined image in his eyes, but because she couldn't make him view her without accidentally dragging Magnus into the chaos that is her own mind and thoughts switching responsibilities to make her sanity break bit to bit.

Alex Fierro is not someone to fall in love and keep that love in tact. She wasn't someone who held onto the sensation of feeling her heart palpitate at the thought of one person. She wasn't someone who took things seriously. Not when she wasn't took seriously. Not when she was mislead and played with and told that her feelings were irrelevant—that she was irrelevant. She would always remember those voices rippling through her mind that damn it, she was useless, she was a tool dragged from procreation. She was nothing.

And she hated that. The recollection of that night when she finally talked to her parents—which weren't really her parents. Just a guy her real mother fucked and left with, and a woman who she was forced to call a mother. She remembered being finally open with them, telling them that this body, this horrid body she had got assigned into by who knows what force of science—that this covenant of her thoughts and life and free will was not her body at all.

She expected the worst, and the worst did greet her. She was kicked out of that household—not a home, not a place where she felt comfortable. There was no home for her now, now that her own goddamn body wasn't even a home for her. Not when her own body was against her. Not when she was drowning in dysphoria each day and having to deal with things she didn't want to deal with. Not when she was undergoing a lot of pressure from her own train of thoughts.

Ever since she was thrown out of that household, there was no longer a tether to her conscious self for what you call feelings. It was something foreign for Alex Fierro now. Something she never felt in a while, something she had thrown away for herself.

Then came Magnus, who made her feel again. Who ignited flames of whatever deep inside her—not in a sexual way, but that blast of fire deep within you when you feel that kind of attraction to someone. When you won't know whether you are really connected, or not. You just feel that gut feeling where tendrils of who knows what connect and pull you closer. Alex never felt this way before for someone, not when everyone around her wasn't permanent. Heck, even her sister was temporary—she had a family now, someone to call her own. And Alex didn't want to be someone she'd worry about, too. Sam deserved her happiness.

Magnus Chase. That guy. That guy made Alex feel this desire to shape her own future with him in it. He made her think of things she never thought she could think of—she made her feel happy in the best ways.

So the thought of being shipped with Magnus was something she definitely wanted. Not because of the bet, but because it reassures her that they can be. That what they have can be what she wanted them to be. But of course, she was still a rabbit hole of regrets and bad decisions. She didn't want to pull Magnus into that hole of horrendous imaginings. She didn't want to hurt Magnus.

She didn't want the guilt running up and down her spine to remain there. She didn't want all this to be broken as soon as she gets it in tact. She didn't want anything to broken, again. She didn't want to ruin everything again in her life.

For once, Alex Fierro wanted to fall in love. Not with Magnus, but with the feeling of loving him. The feeling of having that sensation within you that you feel tugging on your stomach. That feeling she finally has when she looks at Magnus and she swore—the flowers in her eyes bloomed.

She wanted to fall in love, permanently.

And she didn't know if Magnus was the right one to fall for.

But she wanted to.

=