Magnus
I'm laying in bed. It's the full moon. I've always liked to watch it. But I'm not, not this time. I'm doing what I've done these past three weeks. I pretend to be asleep while Alexander takes his time in the shower. I know he's crying in there every evening. Just as I know that he's masturbating in it every morning. He washes himself multiple times a day, he says he feels sticky but it's not like that. Because he confides in me when the thinks I sleep. Every night after crying in the shower. I believe he knows that I'm at least partly awake. But I also know that it makes it easier for him if I don't say a word. If I act like I don't know. We share everything concerning the missions during the day. The fear, the worries the plans about his father or Ghost like they call him. The one who has Deckert Shaw as his right hand.
The door opens with a silent creaking sound, like every night. Naked feet make small sounds as he walks to the bed. The towel makes a thumping sound as he lets it fall in frond of the bedside table. I pick it up every morning while he makes the bed. The blankets are lifted and soon his body lays next to mine, like every night. And just like every night, he takes my hand, kisses my fingertips one by one and lays it back.
"My father" he starts. It's a mix of whispers and speaking.
"My father was a good man at some point in his life...at least I believed it" his voice is raspy, caught in nostalgia.
"He used to be daddy who makes me touch the clouds on the swing in our farmhouse. Isabelle loved him so much. And he did too. Once she was born, he made me his little soldiers. A boy who'd protect her sister. I learned self defense at six, once Isabelle was barely four. I was supposed to defend her from bullies. But everybody loved Isabelle. She could kick ass by the age of fife. And Robert loved her really much. Especially because she combined femininity with asskicks. I tried to be the overprotective brother I was raised to be and succeeded" Alexander chuckles dryly to himself.
"I was barely fifteen when I broke a guy's nose for disrespecting Isabelle, I think that was the last time Robert was proud of me. My marks had no value. To him. I still thought he loved me. That I was safe with him." And like every night he interrupts himself and I feel him shift, just before a mop of wet hair gets placed against my chest. I know that now it's the bad coming. It has been like this for every night.
"That was until I discovered I liked boys. And I told him about it. He called me so many bad names. But I could stand that. What I couldn't is when he told me that I was like poison to Isabelle...that I would endanger her future, her safety, just because I was a disgusting piece of shit who liked it up the ass. I never bottomed because of that. Even when I desperately needed the cash for the drugs. I stole, I lied, I fucked hopeless lonely men. Even a girl or two. But I didn't want to bottom. I still can't really. I mean always bottom. I guess I'd at most like to switch very rarely. But I never took it up there. I still want to prove him wrong. Even though I know there's nothing wrong about men who prefer to bottom. I've heard it feels good if you prepare and lube it all properly. Better than any orgasm that comes only from your cock. But I've never forgotten his words. I'm afraid. That I'll feel like I'm disgusting because I bottomed for a man. Even toys for that shitscare me. I know you're ready to bottom for me and I'd never shame you for this. But when it's me...I just don't feel like I can do it. It's like all of you who have the guts to do it are so precious and I'm not part of that. And I know I shouldn't let his words control me. But I can't forget them. I thought about bottoming for you. And the only thing I can think of is discomfort... because you deserve better than an insecure bottom who'll probably cry and you won't understand why.
And now we have found Robert. We know where he's hiding. And we'll kill him. He'll be our last death hopefully. And maybe one day I'll feel like the blood in my hands is really washed off. I don't know.
All I know is that I'm afraid of what he'll tell me when I see him again. After all that he did. Because I can't help that his words hit home. I'm afraid he'll say something about you. Something that makes you feel like I do. Or even that he tells you something about me. Something that will make you hate me even more. I know you hate me and you don't trust me. But you know I won't kill you. So you sleep here so I can get a few hours of sleep. I never thanked you for that. I can't when you look at me. When you hear me. Because every single time I look into your eyes I see what I've done to you. Your eyes used to have this playful shine in them, paired with a hint of arrogance. I thought it was cute. Especially when you consider that I'm a killer and you dared to disrespect me. But now I see grief. I see you mourning our relationship. And I'm afraid that once you're done mourning it that you'll leave. I'm selfish. I know. But I don't want you to leave Magnus" I hear a silent sniffle. Then his body presses more against mine.
"I love you, Magnus. I hope you have beautiful dreams. Because I don't want to be in your nightmares. I hear you say my name when you sleep. It's always a whisper. But every time it gives me the strength to face you every morning. To face your grieving...and your hatred. Tomorrow we'll go after Robert, and then I'll ask you on a date. A real date. In some restaurant with overpriced candles and flowers. Something really cliché from these movies you love. And maybe I'll see you smile again. Aku cinta kamu." With the last three words he's ended every night. And every night I hold back the tears. I've caught him training with Siri how to say them. He didn't see me. But t effort he put into it despite the fact the world is on fire made me hopeful. That maybe we have a future. But that we'll only know tomorrow. When we face the Ghost that is R. Lightwood.