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They say the hardest heartbreaks aren’t those that come suddenly but rather those who creep unsuspectingly until every sharp stab crumbles to dust.
He wasn’t completely sure when it had happened. Maybe it begun when Alexander’s first wrinkle appeared or a grey hair was there amongst the dark, a taunting reminder of the harsh realities of mortality.
Magnus should have been prepared for this for years.
But denial was greater than acceptance and it was easier.
Until it wasn’t.
Over the years, Alec had grown to be such a beautiful dancer. He wasn’t naturally graceful nor eased as Magnus, but he held himself with practiced poise that made very calculated step like a prowl. It was like a battle, only it wasn’t one of violence or death but rather a soft battle to show just how much he adored Magnus, his husband.
They always danced together. At their first anniversary. On Valentine’s Day. When they were down or when they were happy.
Magnus loved those moments. When it was just them, dancing under some flickering light with the love between them like a living thing.
His husband always led the dance, was always so confident. Alexander had started to learn the moment after their wedding and had kept it a secret for an entire year.
Then, on the first anniversary amongst many, Alec had taken him to a beach they had loved when they found it on their honeymoon and asked him to dance.
And it was exquisite.
The pull of arms as they pushed Magnus into him. His hands curving across his hips and the slow, cool confidence of a Shadowhunter reflecting outwardly as he eased his feet in a looping large circle amongst the sand.
Magnus had fallen so much more in love right there. He hadn’t even known it was possible.
The moonlight soothed the beach into a gentle vibrant blue. The noise of the waves crashing the sand, the slight murmur of the wind - it was so perfect.
And every year, they went back there, to their beach. And they danced until they were both exhausted.
Sooner than Magnus anticipated, Alexander couldn’t dance as much as he was used to. His breath was shallower, his steps stiffer. But the look of utter adoration never changed. Not when the skin spotted and wrinkled. And not when Magnus stayed so painfully young.
One day, when they were dancing - Magnus had realised with a startling horror of just how old his Alexander was.
His hair was bleached white and thin, fragile. Instead of standing tall, he hunched inwards as if an invisible weight pulled him down. And there was a depth in his burning gaze. A chilling reality of a man who had lost his child-like innocence. Like he understood the world now, more than he thought he could.
That was the moment Magnus’ felt the first stab of heartbreak. And by the silent tears in his husband’s eyes, he knew Alec saw it too.
His grip had tightened then, and he had clasped Magnus so much closer. Alec had never been good with words but his actions were always so vocal.
And then, right there, they told him of the fierce protectiveness Alexander had over him, Magnus. Of how afraid he was of drifting away, of leaving him.
So Magnus had tilted his head up and kissed him just as he had so many years ago. He kissed him with passion and love, so unwilling to let this go.
The next years were harder. His husband could barely dance anymore. His limbs were stiff, hardened. And every breath rattled out of him like it pained him.
Jace was gone. As was Clary and Simon. Isabelle was so close, bed ridden. They were all going, the evidence of the family Magnus had found slowly fading from the world.
But Alexander stayed on, as if he did it for Magnus alone.
He should of seen it coming.
It was their fifty eighth anniversary, and they were at the beach again - hidden from the world in their small corner of heaven.
But Alec was struggling to even twirl Magnus around. And every step he stumbled and winced.
So they had stopped and sat down, Alec huffing whilst Magnus stayed very still, not even slightly pained from the movements.
It shouldn’t have been like this.
They should of been growing old together.
It wasn’t fair.
But Magnus said none of it. Instead he turned to the man he loved and held his hand to the worn cheek, cold to the touch.
“It is okay, my love, my darling. It is okay.”
And Alec had cried, devastating and yet bittersweet mournful tears as he held Magnus’ hand still. He was shaking, every breath a stutter of pure agony.
“You’ve done so much for this world, for me. Rest now Alexander. Rest now.”
And they lay down together, sand softening their movements. Alec was trembling, wrinkled hands grasping at Magnus’ soft ones, like it was his final tether to the world.
He said nothing more. There was nothing more he could of said, at least, not out loud.
He wanted to say that Alexander was it for him. That his heart, immortal as it was, was all entirely his husband’s. That every part of him would sing for the Shadowhunter who taught him what love truly was. But it seemed almost selfish, like another way to force Alexander to cling on when he was clearly ready to move on.
“I love you Magnus. I love y- you so, s-so much.”
Magnus nodded and whispered it back and watched with such pain when his husband smiled a worn grin and closed his eyes, hands still clinging to Magnus.
The final stab to his heart was when Alec’s chest rose a single, final time then went still.
He didn’t move for a long time. He stayed there, staring at the man he loved, lips slightly pursed open like he was just sleeping.
Mortality was such a fragile thing, painful and short but magnifying in its simpleness. And Magnus had never felt so young and naive but old as he had right then.
For some reason, he thought they’d have forever.
Closing his eyes, Magnus curled into the cold body of his husband. There was no thud of a steady heartbeat, no involuntarily softening of his limbs that always responded to his touch.
When he opened them, he swore he saw a flicker of a body in his vision.
A transparent body of a young man, grinning down at him in his tender youthfulness.
Said figure leant down, all strength and muscles as he kissed Magnus’ head. He didn’t feel the touch, at least not physically. But in his heart, it healed a small crack.
His husband stood up then, his beautiful face so happy and unburdened. The sharp line of his deflect rune stood dark against the pale of his skin, the blues of his eyes bright.
There was no wrinkles. There was no sign of age. Here was Alexander Lightwood, the innocent Shadowhunter that hadn’t experienced his full life with Magnus yet. It was a painful thing to see, at just how breathtaking he looked, so bashful and smooth. So angelic in his death.
As if dying was how he reached his full potential.
As if Magnus had held him back from reaching this ethereal state.
He held out a hand, waiting for Magnus to rise. When Magnus reached for it, trembling in the turbulence of his emotions, Alexander was almost warm, not wholly there but not as ghost like as Magnus had imagined.
Alexander led him through a final dance, that painfully young face shining with unblemished adoration, all for him. Every swirl, every move forward felt like another step toward the end. But Magnus never stopped, letting himself sink into the dance and the beauty of his husband.
And then Alec had let go, kissing Magnus’ forehead again. His smile was small, private but adoring as it crinkled the corner of his eyes.
“It is time to let me go, my Magnus. We’ll dance together again someday, I promise. I will wait for you.”
And then the figure disappeared in a soft fade, leaving the world as peacefully as he came into it.
When the sun finally rose, buttery gold cascading across the sky, Magnus sat down to curl his hand again in Alec’s stiff and cold one yet again. It didn’t feel like him anymore. His husband’s touch was inviting, burning and living.
His husband was that innocently beautiful young man who had held him one last time.
The man below him was the empty shell where he once belonged.
And when he left that beautiful beach, husband in tow, he understood.
Alexander loved him, both in life and death. And with that, Magnus could be content. Not happy, maybe not ever again. But content.
Someday, it would not hurt. Someday he would wake up and not feel like his world was ending. And maybe his memories would be faded, fond but not consuming.
Perhaps, he would find love again.
But one day, he would see Alexander again. And when he did, they would dance together until the world forgot their names.