A/N: 7k! Wow you guys, amazing. Thank you all so much! So I think after this one and another I have in mind, I might do a couple seasonal chapters and then probably call it, but for now, please enjoy this chapter! If you guys can get the reads up to 8k by Halloween, you can expect a special chapter.
This is the night that Alec gets kicked out of his house. Prepare for some feels.
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(Alec POV)
I guess somehow I always knew.
I know that sounds cliche, but honestly, what else is there to say about it? I didn't wake up one morning feeling like a new person, or realize out of the blue that I like boys, it was just...there. Always. Like an integral piece of me, like a heart, or legs, being gay has just always existed for me.
I just never thought that saying it out loud would be so completely terrifying.
So many people say that family makes up your first and closest friends. The people you trust to love you despite your flaws, to love every single part of you.
In my case, that's not completely true. Don't get me wrong, being a Lightwood has its perks, and having wonderful siblings like Jace, Izzy and Max makes life a million times better, but the problems lie with my parents.
My father is a sheep dressed in wolves clothing. He acts as if he runs the show, as if he answers to no one but himself.
The real wolf?
That's my mother. Maryse Lightwood is the epitome of intimidation. There isn't a single thing that woman can't do in heels, and that includes running a household, a business, and stomping on anyone who doesn't follow her rules.
I've been beneath those thousand dollar heels before.
Trying to work up the nerve to go downstairs and face my parents, I smooth my hands down the front of my black dress shirt once more. Even when we're just at home, it's important we look lavish, that's just part of being a Lightwood. When you have money, you wear it. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I futilely try to tame my mess of hair before giving up and making my way to the bedroom door.
I can hear the television playing down in the lounge. I can hear Jace and Izzy rehearsing the alphabet with Max, and I can hear my mother correcting him with a sharp tongue when his 3 year old mouth says the letters wrong. Being a Lightwood starts young, and mistakes aren't welcome.
Balling my hands into fists to try and stop the shaking, I walk down the long staircase, noting how it feels longer than ever before, how I wish more than anything that the wooden steps would just open up and swallow me whole.
No such luck.
I can see my mother's head of inky black hair over the back of the sofa, intricately tied up on top of her head. My father has one arm around her, eyes on the television playing the news.
Izzy sits cross legged on the living room floor, flashcards with brightly painted coloured letters on them in between her freshly manicured fingertips. Lounging with Max in his lap and his back pressed against the armchair is Jace, blonde hair blinding even in the dim lamplight.
It's funny how the adopted one is more a Lightwood then I think I've ever felt, but it doesn't matter. He's the best friend and brother I could ever ask for, one of the only people I trust won't care about my sexuality. I don't think anything could ever come between us, especially not something so minute.
I don't think there's a "right" way to do this, to "come out", and I wish that I was a part of one of those families where I could just go out on dates with boys and my parents wouldn't bat a lash. But even Jace and Izzy have to pass their dates through our parents. If they don't fit the right criteria, they're out of the running. Marrying into the Lightwood family is probably just as hard as being born into it.
My legs feel like they're moving without me as I make my way over to my parents. It's starting to get dark outside, twilight hanging in the sky. Stopping at the side of the couch, I see my dads head turn slightly to look at me.
"Hey, Alec, what's up?" He asks, shifting slightly to face me better. Swallowing back the sick I feel rising in my throat, I wring my hands together nervously. My mother turns to me as well and stands, walking over and cupping my face in her hands worriedly. Well, sort of worried. That's the thing with her, all emotions are buried beneath a layer of pride and indifference. She's not the kind of mom that often gives hugs and makes cookies. She's the type that puts you in your place and makes sure you remember it.
"Alec, you look pale, is everything alright?" I feel her press the back of her hand to my forehead to check for fever and for a moment I think it'll be okay. She loves me, she has to. So does my dad. They're my parents, they love me. They have to.
"I have something to tell you." I trip over the words like mistakes but I swallow the stumble and look into her eyes. She raises a brow and briefly smooths her thumb across my cheekbone in such a maternal, warm way that I feel safe and loved.
"Of course, anything." I watch as my dad stands up and stays a couple feet behind her, watching me curiously. I notice that Max is no longer fumbling over the alphabet and Izzy and Jace aren't asking him too.
I've always hated being in the spotlight and I'm dead centre right now.
"I'm gay." It sounds to me like saying anything. It doesn't sound new, or wrong, or strange. I feel like I've just told my mom and dad that I'm a guy, or that I have eyes.
But it's the way she drops her hands from my face like I've burned her that tells me I'm wrong.
My father looks passive in the background, a thin veil of fear visible in his eyes, but he says and does nothing. Izzy and Jace form neat statues on the living room floor, but I don't miss the way Jace's expression shifts into one of confusion and question.
I feel like an outsider, like a mistake.
My skin feels all wrong and disgusting and all I want to do is run away from everything, this situation, my parents, this house, myself.
When I glance back at my mother, there's fire in her eyes and rage in her chest. She shakes her head once, twice, three times, as if denying it will make the words clinging to the air around us disappear.
To the rest of New York, it's a normal, calm Friday night. But in this room, I'm suffocating.
The silence feels like it lasts forever. I can faintly notice Jace standing in the background, picking Max up into his arms and turning towards the stairs, the same look of confusion and distance in his eyes. It kills me.
And then the silence shatters. Suddenly, my mother's hands are back. They're on my shoulders, shaking me, on my wrists, gripping them too tight and I want to ask her to stop but I choke on the words. Her voice snaps out like a reflex, calling me names I don't think I've ever heard, things I would never call someone.
Mistake. Disappointment. Wreck. Disgusting. Abomination. Disgrace.
Each word buries itself into my head and heart, breaking down parts of me I didn't even know were there.
Suddenly, after what feels like years, she releases my sore wrists and storms over to the door. My father hasn't moved an inch from his place several feet away. Sadness paints his blank expression but I know that he won't stand up for me. Being on the wrong end of Maryse Lightwood's wrath is not envious, and I almost can't blame him for standing back, but I won't deny that it hurts.
I can feel the cold wind rushing into the house as she rips the door open.
"Get out of this house." Her voice is colder than the bitter January air and I swallow thickly, turning and looking at my mother in disbelief.
"Maryse," my father cautions, but she lifts a hand and shakes her head.
"You will not live under my roof as a disgrace, Alexander! You make this choice right now. Are you going to keep this charade up and leave or are you going to pretend this never happened and let us all carry on with our lives?" My mother's hands grasp my wrists tighter than before, but I can't back down. My father's eyes are far away, his body tense, indecision rolling off of him. Who I am, who I could be, who I always was is on the line, and this time, I won't let myself down.
It feels fake, somehow, like she'll start laughing and hug me and tell me how stupid I was to believe her. But that doesn't happen. Instead, she gestures to the open door, eyes staring at me impatiently, waiting.
Izzy runs forward, tears streaming down her face. She looks in shock as she throws her arms around me, body shaking as she sobs into my shoulder. Instantly, I wrap myself around her, fearing the length of time until I'll see her again. I don't get to hold her long enough.
"What about his things, Maryse?" My father comments with concern. I'm sick to my stomach, but I look back at him anyways.
"Once he figures out where he's going, we'll send him the necessities. Other than that, I don't care." So that's it. My own mother is disowning me, keeping my possessions and leaving me out in the cold. I guess I don't move fast enough, because with a feral growl, she comes toward me, high heels snapping on the hardwood as if they'll break right through.
She winds her hand tightly around my upper arm, ripping me from Izzy's hold and pulling me toward the front door.
The snow glimmers faintly in the moonlight, looking soft as powder. She pushes sharply between my shoulder blades, knocking me off of the doorstep and onto the barely swept pathway, beneath the falling snow.
I feel the crack of my arm hitting the concrete awkwardly beneath me, the sickening sensation threatening to make me pass out. But I push through it, focussing instead on the insane cold surrounding me, the way the soft looking snow cuts into my skin like icy daggers. The click of the door locking signals the end.
I'm not sure how long I lay there. But eventually, I drag myself up from the ground, wet, miserable and frozen. My cell phone and wallet are tucked in the pocket of my black jeans, the thin fabric of my black dress shirt doing nothing to shield me from the cold.
I start walking. There's no destination in mind, maybe a hospital. I'm sure my arms broken, but then again, I don't want to waste what money I was able to get away with on medical bills. It'll heal on its own.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and with my good hand, I pull it out, seeing that Simon, a friend of mine, is calling me.
"Hello?" I croak into the phone, dragging me feet beneath me as I continue to move forward.
Simon starts rambling instantly. "Izzy called me, she told me what happened, where are you? Are you okay? Oh my god, where are you, Alec?" He sounds worried and terrified. I close my eyes briefly to centre myself before answering.
"Just a few blocks from my house."
"I'll be there soon. Hold tight."
I walk slower now, knowing that Simon is on his way. I don't want to inconvenience him, but I need to think about my survival for a second. And at this rate, I won't last long.
His familiar headlights come up the street like a beacon and my shoulders fall in relief as he pulls up beside me.
Throwing open the passenger door, he leans across the console and looks at me incredulously.
"Holy, Alec. What happened to you," He whispers, barely audible over the humming of the engine and the soft music drifting from the radio. "Get in here."
Once I've slid into the seat, I'm shaking. Simon wraps a blanket around my shoulders and hands me another one that I bundle myself up in. He turns the heater on full and begins slowly driving on the snow covered streets back towards his house.
Normally, Simon is full of words. His mouth is constantly open, talking about anything and everything. Now, he's silent.
I don't break that silence, either. I'm aching and freezing and scared. I know I owe him more of an explanation, but I don't have one. I can't make myself say it, or else it might be real.
We pull up to his house, a house I've been in a million times since I was younger. I've known Simon a long time, we grew up together. He slides out of the car and runs over to my side, helping me out and into the house.
Mrs. Lewis is waiting with hot chocolate, blankets and the fireplace rumbling in the living room. Simon disappears to get me dry clothes and she combs my soaked hair back with soft hands.
"You poor thing. Let's take a look at you." I let her sit me at the table and look me over. "You're bruising already, sweetie." She mumbles, drifting fingers over my blue wrists. I have small cuts from the ice littering my skin. When she looks at my arm, she gasps. "I think it's broken, come on, let's get you to the hospital."
I zone out once Mrs. Lewis has ushered us into the car, and a few hours and a cast later, we're back in the warm living room with hot cocoa and some random sitcom playing in the background.
I can faintly hair Simon's sister talking on the phone in her room, and it makes me ache for Izzy and her warmth.
"Alec?" Simon mumbles, nudging me gently. I raise my head to look at him.
"You're more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you need, Alec. You've always been part of the family." Mrs. Lewis smiles warmly and rubs my upper arm in comfort.
Even if I've lost everything, if I've gone from being a prestigious, wealthy young adult to being nothing, something tells me it'll all work out somehow.
The worlds a dark place sometimes, but it's people like this, people with warm hearts and open arms that change it.
And I can only hope there are more of them out there, willing to shed a little light on this dark place and make something a little bit special out of it all.
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A/N: Sad chapter! But I wanted to give you a bit of background. I'm considering doing the same with Magnus, let me know if you'd like to see that!