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Fear of Abandonment

Downworlder Week - Day 6 - Favourite Ships

Magnor

Summary: Ragnor tries to deal with Magnus disappearing on one of his very long vacations

For @banefellsantiago <3

Dust puffed up around him as Ragnor sat down on the couch in the empty apartment. The whole place was thick with dust; Magnus hadn’t been here in a long time. The closet was still packed with clothes, the cupboards still stocked with food, but Magnus was gone.

Again.

Catarina busied herself with making tea as Ragnor sat at her modest kitchen table. There was a potted plant in the centre of the table so large that by all rights it should not be a potted plant. He had no doubt it was only magic keeping this thing alive. Catarina had no garden in which to grow the plants she loved so much, which led Ragnor to wonder how she explained all her indoor plants that should not be indoor plants to her mundane friends. She had a lot of them. Work friends mostly. Master of the double life, was Catarina Loss.

‘Are you going to sit there sulking all day, or give me a hand?’

Ragnor raised his gaze from the impossible plant to see Catarina eyeing him over the top of it. ‘You’re a warlock. You can use magic.’

Catarina rolled her eyes. ‘Sulking it is then. Why am I not surprised?’

Ragnor scowled.

Catarina placed a mug of scalding tea and a plate of biscuits in front of him and he raised a sardonic eyebrow at her. ‘You’re not my mother, you know.’

‘No, I am your host while you’re in this house. I understand you’re unfamiliar with the concept since you put minimal effort into making people feel welcome in your home, but I intend to do a good job.’

It was probably the wrong time for Ragnor to point out that he didn’t drink tea. That he never drank tea other than when he was at Catarina’s. That if she was a good host she would know that.

She seemed to sense that he was thinking something impolite, even if she didn’t know exactly what, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Ragnor picked up his cup and took a long, placatory sip. There was too much sugar in it, and he tried not to wince at the sweetness.

‘You’re always like this,’ Catarina said. There was a weariness in her voice. She pulled out a chair and sat down beside him with her own cup of tea. ‘Every time he goes away, you’re always like this.’

She didn’t say his name, but Ragnor knew she was talking about Magnus. He felt a strong urge to simply get up and leave, as he did every time Magnus was brought up in conversation. ‘Like what?’

‘You’ve always been grumpy,’ Catarina said. ‘But whenever Magnus goes away, you become downright unpleasant. It’s like you want everyone to hate you.’

‘I didn’t say anything!’

‘You were thinking it. I can tell by the way you were looking at me. You were assessing what might happen if you said it out loud. If it was worth it.’

‘And how do you know that?’

‘Because I know you, Ragnor.’

Ragnor had no response to this. He took another sip of tea, not bothering to mask his wince this time.

‘Too much sugar?’

‘Too much tea. If you really know me so well, you’d know that I hate tea.’

Catarina sighed heavily. ‘He’ll come back.’

‘It’s been over a year.’

‘He’s been gone longer than two years before. He’ll come back. He always does.’

Ragnor drank more tea so that he wouldn’t say what he wanted to say. That just because Magnus came back last time, and the time before that, didn’t mean he always would. Maybe one day he just got tired of being here, tired of the people around him, tired of Ragnor, and he left and never looked back. Or maybe he left with the intention of coming back but then he found something better. Someone better.

There were no guarantees.

‘I know that deep down you don’t really want to make everyone hate you,’ Catarina said. Her voice was quiet, as if she were standing by someone’s sickbed. ‘I think you believe you deserve to be hated so you push everyone away. But that’s not really what you want.’

‘What makes you think that?’

The corners of Catarina’s lips twitched into a smile. Just a small one. ‘You’re still drinking the tea, aren’t you?’

When Ragnor returned home, he kicked off his shoes, not caring where they landed. His mouth still tasted of the cloying over-sweetened tea. He had drank all of it, and he regretted every swallow.

He went straight over to the liquor cabinet in his living room, took down a bottle of whiskey and a glass, poured a small measure of amber liquid. He downed it in one swallow. It was just to get rid of the taste of the tea, that was all. He told himself that as he poured another glass and downed that too. He poured one more glass and then slumped down onto the couch opposite the large aquarium.

He scowled at the fish as he took a smaller sip this time. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Catarina had said; how easily she saw right through him.

If she knows me that well, can read me so easily, what else does she know?

He never dared to bring up the subject and Catarina never gave any hint that she knew how he truly felt. But still. She knew everything else, was it so unreasonable that she’d figured that out too?

I think you believe you deserve to be hated so you push everyone away.

And where exactly was she wrong? He had no answer to that.

Ragnor leaned over to the coffee table to snatch something up. He had taken it from Magnus’ apartment on the day he had discovered Magnus was gone. One of his rings. Not a favourite, if Magnus had not chosen to wear it when he left. He seemed to have taken very little with him. Still, it was probably enough to track him with. It would be easy to do. To close his fist around it, to let his magic engulf it, to think of Magnus and then reach out to him. He came close to doing it plenty of times, even coming so far as to start the spell. But he always stopped before he reached a conclusion, before finding out where Magnus had gone.

It’s an invasion of privacy, Ragnor told himself. Magnus didn’t tell me where he was going so I shouldn’t pry.

He only went on holiday, Ragnor told himself. He’ll laugh at me – think I’m clingy – if I had to go looking for him before he came home.

But those were lies. Those were things he told Catarina every time she suggested tracking Magnus if he was so miserable about him leaving, along with a derisive snort and a sarcastic comment about being the opposite of miserable that Magnus had left. Lies that Catarina most likely saw right through, like she always did.

There was no point lying to himself.

The truth was that he was scared he would go looking for Magnus and find only anger and disgust. I left to get away from you. Magnus might say. From your complaining and your self-pity. I left because your misery is infectious and I don’t want it to rub off on me. I can do better. I deserve better.

‘Yeah,’ Ragnor said softly to the empty room. ‘You do.’

He finished the rest of his whiskey and then went up to bed, the ring still clutched in his hand.

Bright light suddenly poured into the bedroom, bright enough to wake Ragnor up. He groaned without opening his eyes, pulling the blanket up over his head. His whole body ached and nausea gripped his stomach.

Someone tugged the blanket back and he groaned again, trying to shield his eyes with his arm.

‘Jesus, how much did you drink last night?’ Catarina asked. ‘You’ve been avoiding me.’

‘There’s a reason,’ Ragnor mumbled.

There was a depression in the mattress that meant Catarina had sat down on the edge of the bed.

‘Because you’re a misery guts, that’s the reason.’ She spoke with unusual brightness. It was far too early and Ragnor was far too hungover for that, but when she spoke again it got his attention. ‘I have news.’

‘News about what?’ Ragnor opened his eyes at last, wincing at the morning sunlight. Catarina had thrown open the heavy drapes and opened the window to air the room out. It probably needed it; the lingering stench of alcohol was overbearing. He wasn’t usually much of a heavy drinker, but he seemed to be drinking more and more over the two years since Magnus’ disappearance.

Catarina was looking over at him, an excited gleam in her eyes. In her hands was an envelope. Even in this state, Ragnor was able to recognise the handwriting; he would recognise it anywhere. Magnus’.

He sat up too quickly and his head swam. Catarina put a steadying hand on his shoulder, but for a moment he was sure he was going to vomit. The feeling passed after a couple of seconds and Catarina seemed sure he was going to be okay because she let go of him and held up the envelope.

‘I haven’t opened it yet. I thought we could read it together.’

What if it’s bad news? Ragnor thought. What’s if he’s in trouble?

Catarina smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes. ‘If he needed help, we would know. There are faster ways for him to get in touch with us.’

Ragnor simply nodded and then watched as Catarina split open the seal and pulled out a thin sheaf of paper. It was covered in small, cramped writing, and it was addressed only to Catarina. There was a brief greeting, asking how Catarina had been and if Ragnor was still as miserable as ever. You have no idea, he thought sourly. The rest was dedicated to details of Magnus’ adventures over the last two years, where he had been, who he had met, the trouble he had gotten up to. He ended it by saying he wasn’t sure when he was coming home, and then signed his name with a very dramatic flourishing signature.

‘There, see! He’s fine. And he said he’s coming home.’

‘He said he didn’t know when he was coming home.’

‘Which still implies that he intends to at some point,’ Catarina said with a dismissive shrug.

Ragnor’s nausea had returned, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with the hangover this time. He kept staring at the top of the letter, at Catarina’s name. Magnus had only bothered to write to Catarina, and had only mentioned Ragnor once, very briefly, in the whole letter.

‘I think I’ll go back to sleep for a while,’ Ragnor said. ‘Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up.’

Catarina folded the letter up and carefully returned it to the envelope. She left the envelope on the bedside table when she stood up and made for the door, but she paused and turned back before leaving.

‘I don’t think the hangover is what you’re concerned with, Ragnor. The real problem isn’t the kind of thing you can just sleep off.’ She left the room without explaining. She didn’t need to.

Ragnor lay back down, pulling the blanket around him. The room felt like it was spinning around him, but he kept his eyes fixed on Magnus’ letter beside the bed. Catarina had left it for him, but it wasn’t his. If he was supposed to have it, Magnus would have addressed it to him. Maybe Magnus really had gone to get away from him, that didn’t mean he was going to let Catarina suffer too.

He reached out to the bedside table, but instead of taking hold of the letter he pulled open one of the drawers and groped around inside until his fingers closed around something metal. He pulled it out, a delicate golden chain with a ring hung on the end. Magnus’ ring. Magnus’ fingers were much more slender than Ragnor’s and the ring didn’t fit him, so he had taken to wearing it around his neck instead. He was relieved he hadn’t still been wearing it while Catarina was there.

He slipped the chain over his head, careful not to catch it on his horns, and then closed his hand around the ring. It felt familiar in his hand by now, and gradually he drifted back off to sleep.

He almost ignored the ringing phone. He rarely answered it – most of the people he cared to talk to could get in touch with him using other methods if they really needed to – but the damn thing just kept ringing. With a grumble of annoyance, Ragnor seized the receiver.

‘This had better be important,’ he snapped.

‘Am I interrupting your very hectic social life, dear?’

Ragnor froze at the sound of that voice. ‘Magnus?’

‘Who were you expecting?’ As if he hadn’t vanished without a word for over two years. ‘I was wondering if you could maybe come round to help me unpack?’

You took almost nothing with you, how much have you brought back?

Why can’t you use magic for that?

‘Whatever.’

Ragnor hung up the phone and then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Magnus was back, and acting like he’d only been gone a few days. Two and a half years wasn’t really much to an old immortal, but it still depended on how those immortals felt during that time.

Ragnor’s hand went to the ring hanging around his neck, closed around it.

I should tell him. He probably doesn’t feel the same, but I’ll never know unless I tell him.

He took off the necklace and left it on his coffee table as he portaled away from his home to see Magnus.

Magnus had left with almost nothing and had returned with three suitcases full of new clothes and jewellery and books and other trinkets.

‘Did you see the letter I sent to Catarina?’ Magnus asked as he emptied one of these suitcases out onto his couch, creating a mountain of brightly coloured silks and satins.

‘She showed me.’

‘Good! I didn’t think there was any sense in writing to both of you, when I’d just be telling you the same thing.’

‘You could have at least addressed the letter to both of us.’

Magnus paused, looking thoughtful. ‘Actually, that never occurred to me. Good point.’

It was just a mistake, Ragnor thought. He didn’t intentionally forget you.

‘Anyway, did you miss me?’ Magnus’s eyes glittered as if he knew exactly what Ragnor was going to say to that.

Ragnor opened his mouth to respond. I love you. The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, words he had never dared to speak in decades, centuries even.

I love you.

But his ever-present self-loathing thoughts immediately kicked in. If you tell him that and he doesn’t feel the same, you’ll ruin everything. Your entire friendship. Maybe next time he won’t come back because you made everything too awkward.

‘I didn’t realise you needed this long to come up with your insults. You must have been out of practice while I was away,’ Magnus mused, a smile curling his lips. That smile was beautiful. Ragnor had missed it. Maybe if he just kissed him instead—

'You could have stayed away longer and I wouldn’t have noticed,’ Ragnor said with a shrug.

Magnus rolled his eyes but that smile was still there, it was exactly what he had expected. ‘Of course you would say that. Would it really kill you to tell me you loved me once in a while?’ He turned to sort through the mountain of clothing on his couch and the moment was gone.

Damn it.

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