He feels like his throat is constricted, like his muscles are frozen, like his blood’s stopped in its tracks in its effort to get back to his heart. He wants to say something, but it’s like nothing in his brain is functioning, like his tongue doesn’t remember how to form words.
“Magnus?” Alec asks gently.
Magnus clutches hard at Alec’s hands until he can feel Alec’s bones creak, but he can’t – he just can’t. This can’t be real. This was never meant to be real. Not that he doesn’t want it to be… god, he wants it, desperately. But this isn’t what he expected, isn’t what he was meant for, not according to his father and his history and the wicked gleam of his eyes that betray his heritage. He remembers centuries of heartbreak and tears over lovers in their graves and lovers saying goodbye and lovers saying don’t make this harder than it needs to be, yet somehow –
Somehow now, Magnus has been blessed with Alexander Gideon Lightwood, who smiles and laughs and pledges his love with honest ease, like it’s not a miracle that he loves Magnus, like it’s not a miracle that he’s stayed and that he still wants to stay, and –
“Magnus? I’m sorry, I thought –”
“Yes,” Magnus gasps out, finally, the word spilling from his lungs as he inhales his first breath since Alec asked him. “My god, Alexander, I – yes, I’ll marry you.”
The worried frown on Alec’s face clears then, the corners of Alec’s eyes crinkling as a happy crescent spreads across the width of his face until his joy is as obvious on his face as the ring in his hand that he’s offering to Magnus. And when he slips that ring onto Magnus’ finger, when he bends his neck to offer to Magnus their first kiss as fiances, Magnus kisses him back, loops his arms around Alec’s neck, and thinks–
Well. Once again, he finds he can’t really think at all.
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