i decided that lucie's dress is orange, which makes it complementary to the blue background just like cordelia's hair on chog cover was complementary to the green background, also i decided that on chain of thorns cover there will be grace (because y'know.... that long flowy hair isn't on james's head)
WHICH MEANS that the third cover will based on the last couple of complementary colours, yellow and purple
WHICH MEANS i drew this random thing and now i want to see chain of thorns cover
bonus: chain of gold is written in gold and chain of iron is written in silver WHICH MEANS i decided that chain of thorns will be written in black
"adora can't act to save her life" that's right because did you see her in the first five minutes of 'save the cat'? she can act only to save catra's life
ok i was supposed to study and instead i wrote this. that’s fine.
also, english isn’t my first language so please please!! let me know if i made mistakes
word count: 2258
“Lightwood!” shouted Alastair. “Behind you!”
Thomas quickly turned around, killing the demon behind him with the broadsword, drenched in ichore, between his hands. Without a word he turned again to face the other monster.
Alastair often forgot how fast Lightwood could be. “By the Angel…” muttered under his breath, while, without looking away from Thomas’ broad shoulders, he killed another demon with his spear. I get distracted too easily, he thought. These patrols with Lightwood will get me killed one day.
He turned his back to the other boy, walking slightly toward him. He hit a demon close to him, failing to kill it when, once again, he saw a shadow moving quickly, too quickly, from the corner of the alley toward Thomas.
Without thinking Alastair turned his back to the wounded demon. His spear left swiftly his fingers and hit the head of the new creature, not before he felt a piercing pain in his right leg and collapsed to the ground screaming.
Thomas killed the demon he was fighting with, turned around and threw his bolas around the wounded monster’s talons, pulling it away from Alastair. He killed it with a single blow of his sword.
“Alastair! Why did you give your back to that thing?” shouted Thomas, hurrying toward the other Shadowhunter. “By the Angel…” said, looking at the bleeding wound.
“There was… a… demon…” tried to say Alastair.
Thomas took his stele and quickly traced many iratze on the leg. “This isn’t working. We have to go to the Institute. Can you get up?”
Alastair grasped Thomas’ hand and tried to raise on his healthy leg. The moment he tried to use the other leg he had to stifle another scream. The pain was spreading quickly on the whole leg and it made his head spin. “I can’t… put my… weight… on it…”
“I’ll help you” said Thomas, holding him on the shoulders.
Alastair moaned and held with all his strength on Thomas who tried to lift him by putting a hand on his waist. Alastair managed to limp a few steps but they were moving too slowly.
“This isn’t working” said Thomas, suddenly sliding a hand under Alastair’s legs and holding him close to his chest. Alastair held on to his shoulder, surprised, while Thomas ran toward their carriage.
He closed his eyes and put his forehead on the hollow between Thomas’ neck and chest. He thought that he had never been that close to him and that he wanted to get even closer, but that was probably the venom and the pain talking. It had become hard to focus and he let his thoughts wander.
Between a difficult breath and the other he remembered himself saying to someone I’ve loved you since Paris. He couldn’t remember who… Who was the person he had said that to? Suddenly his mind filled with the Louvre’s colours, the theaters, the streets of Paris and the Eiffel Tower gleaming in the night.
“We’re almost there” murmured Thomas, close to Alastair’s ear. The sound of his voice brought back visions of Paris and all of them were full of Thomas. Thomas in the Louvre, talking about arts. Thomas telling him about his tattoo. Thomas telling him about his year in Spain. Thomas that had been so far from him and was now so close, all muscles, breaths and heartbeat under his arms.
He now remembered the look he gave him at Cordelia and James’ engagement party. Alastair felt his heart sink, heaved by panic and sense of guilt and focused so hard on trying not to cry.
That was the last thing he could remember.
—
Alastair woke up in one of the beds in the Institute infirmary. The light coming from the windows told him it must have been morning. He rubbed his eyes, trying to drive away the drowsiness, and saw a spot of red hair close to him.
“Layla,” tried to say, his mouth dry.
Alastair heard a sudden sound coming from the other side of the room and saw Thomas getting up from the edge of another bed. Without uttering a word he walked toward Cordelia and delicately shook her shoulder, waking her up. Then he left the room.
“Alastair,” said Cordelia, noticing his brother finally awake, who was trying to sit. She left him no time to ask himself if he had just imagined Thomas. “You’re awake!” I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine now” replied Alastair, trying to reach a glass of water on the nightstand. “What happened? After I got here.”
“Thomas came here, screaming. He was asking for the Silent Brothers. Your wound wasn’t deep but the demon’s venom was making it much worse. The Silent Brothers came here very quickly, removed the venom and healed the wound. They gave you some herbs to sleep and they said you should be able to walk by this evening.” She paused. “You’ve been lucky. Thomas brought you here incredibly fast.” She gave him a kiss on his forehead. “You should rest now.”
When his sister was almost on the door he called her again. “Thomas… did he…? Did he stay here all night?”
“Of course. Sleep, Alastair.”
—
That very evening Alastair could walk easily and Cordelia brought him home. The Institute felt empty, except for Mr. Herondale and Mrs. Gray, who had wanted to make sure he was really healing, before letting him go.
Alastair couldn’t stop thinking that he didn’t meet anyone because everybody hated him. He felt his own chest choke under the familiar weight of his guilt. But if that was true and everybody hated him, how come Thomas had stayed with him the whole night?
The road home was very quiet. Alastair only hoped to have the chance to go to bed and read something to distract himself.
When they got home he and Cordelia parted on the front door and Alastair moved toward the stairs that led to his bedroom.
He suddenly stopped when he saw a person sitting on the first steps, his head in his hands. Thomas.
Thomas had heard him come. He had dark circles under the eyes that Alastair had never seen on his face. “Alastair,” he said. “Your… your mother let me in. I was waiting for you.”
Alastair didn’t say anything. He was too tired to try guessing what Thomas was doing on his stairs.
“I wanted to thank you, for last evening…”
“I should be the thankful one” Alastair interrupted him.
“I was talking about that demon behind my back.”
“It seems the bare minimum.”
“You got hurt trying to help me,” replied Thomas. “I understood later how you got that wound. You saved my life twice in less than two minutes. I owe you.”
“I’d say we’re even, now.”
There was a moment of silence. Alastair took some time to observe Thomas’ eyes moving around the room.
“Is there anything else?”
Why do I always seem so rude? I didn’t want to sound rude.
“Actually there is. When… when I brought you to the carriage you were muttering stuff. I thought it was the venom or the pain…”
Alastair felt himself go pale, remembering his own thoughts when he was so close to Thomas. Did he really speak out loud? “What did I say?”
“I’ve loved you since Paris.”
Those words coming out of Thomas' mouth made his heart beat faster but Alastair could remembered himself thinking it the night before. He remembered asking himself who that phrase was meant for, who was the one he told it to. He knew now it had been Charles. He bit his lip and looked away. He didn’t really want to have that conversation.
He tried to get over Thomas on the steps but Thomas got up and held his hand. Alastair froze, feeling his soft fingertip on the inside of his wrist. He knew he could feel his furious heartbeat.
“I’m not forcing you to answer that… I just want to make sure you’re fine.”
Why do you care?
Alastair got rid of Thomas’ hand. Now, standing on the first steps of the stair he could look him straight into his eyes. When was the last time I could look at him in the eyes?
“Thomas…” he tried to say. But how was he going to explain what Paris meant to him? When he had said to Charles I’ve loved you since Paris he had thought it was true. He had thought he was sure of his own feelings. It had taken him some time to understand that it wasn’t Charles he was in love with, but Paris. Paris because it was the city where he actually got to see Thomas for the first time. He had heard him talk about arts, he had heard him talk about himself and his hopes, while he fell in love with the city of lights and its possibilities.
“Alastair,” Thomas stopped him, holding his face between his hands. Alastair felt so tiny in front of his gaze and under his touch.
“In some way I was talking about you. About Paris.” said suddenly. “Not that it matters. You hate me. You’re right.”
Thomas sighed, letting his hands fall on the other’s neck. Alastair’s skin was burning, didn’t he notice? “I… I don’t hate you. I can’t bring myself to hate you. I was mad at you, I thought that… I thought you were a different kind of person. I was disappointed, I think. I had thought to see good in you and I feared I had been wrong. Now I know you’re much more.”
Thomas got on the first step, getting closer to Alastair who stepped higher.
“I was a horrible person. And there isn’t a day I don’t think about it and there isnt’ a day I don’t regret everything I’ve done. I don’t deserve your forgiveness because I helped you in a battle. It doesn’t change what I’ve done.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Thomas’ hands climbed back on his face and his fingers were close to his hair, stroking them. Every nerve in Alastair’s body shouted at him to forget everything and let Thomas touch him.
His eyes slid on Thomas’ face. He remembered what he had thought in his pain the evening before. He had thought Thomas was all muscles, breath and heartbeat because pain had made him close his eyes and that was all that he had seen.
But now he had his eyes wide open and he was seeing him like it was the first time, like it was Paris all over again. He let his eyes follow the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, the shape of his lips, the muscles hiding below his shirt, the shape of his lips.
Thomas got another step higher but now Alastair didn’t move away. He threw his head back, because now Thomas was taller than him, even if he was a step lower. He threw his head back to meet Thomas’ face looking down at him. The shape of his lips.
Without really knowing what was happening they got closer and closer and now they were kissing, gently and slowly.
Alastair lifted his hands on Thomas’ face while Thomas held him on his waist.
Suddenly Thomas turned him around, pushing his back against the wall while the kisses got less and less delicate and Alastair could hear him moaning against his lips and neck.
They kissed for a long time while Alastair kept thinking that it wasn’t enough. At the same time he knew his heart was close to bursting out of his chest and still it wasn’t enough.
Thomas started to stroke Alastair’s cheekbones while they slowly got away from each other. His fingers are better than kisses, thought Alastair.
They looked at each other for a moment before Alastair suddenly asked: “Why did you stay in the infirmary the whole night?”
“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”
“Cordelia was there.”
Thomas hesitated. “I know. But after she got there I couldn’t find the strength to leave. I kept thinking you were in that bed because of me…”
“I was in that bed thanks to you. There’s a difference.”
“I knew I wasn’t going to sleep and I really didn’t want you to wake up when Cordelia was sleeping...” he kept going, moving his fingers.
“You didn’t have to worry that much,” said Alastair softly, thinking of him, beside him the whole night.
“I think I should probably go, you have to rest” said Thomas, suddenly embarrassed, moving away from him.
Alastair lost his balance and hit his wounded leg on the steps. He cursed under his breath.
“By the Angel, I’m such an idiot.” Once again he lifted Alastair very quickly and held him close. “Your room is upstairs?”
Alastair didn’t trust himself to speak and simply nodded while the other brought him like the night before and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. When they got to his bedroom Thomas left him on his bed and walked toward the door.
“Wait” said Alastair softly. “Stay here.”
“I thought we agreed you needed rest.”
“I thought we agreed I can rest even if you’re here.”
Thomas turned and Alastair could see a tiny smile on his lips.
“I guess you’re right” said, sitting on the bed and holding tightly his hand.
That night they slept in a hug after they had kissed again and again.
The kisses weren’t enough to lighten the weight of guilt on Alastair’s chest, but they were enough to make him sleep peacefully. He knew he was far from forgiveness but he felt, between Thomas’ arms, that he was getting closer.
