On the walk home from their date, Alec warred with himself the whole way about how much he wanted Magnus. How right it felt. While the logical side of him kept pushing back. His lack of experience, Magnus’s extensive history, Downworlder and Shadowhunter, their ages, the war with Valentine and their timing. All of his thoughts seemed to yell at him, swirling around his brain. It was making him anxious and unsure, making him doubt himself and what the hell was he doing?
But then Magnus’s hand brushed his as they walked down the somewhat quiet, chilly street in silence. He could feel Magnus’s concern in the way he tilted his head toward him, eyebrows drawn, eyes still kind. Alec knew his internal struggle radiating off of him like a dark cloud. Alec glanced at Magnus. His dark eyes were shining in the glow of the street lamps, his elegant walk making him seem as though he was about to break into a dance. Magnus smiled at him, warm and reassuring as Alec fought with himself. Then Magnus shifted closer, their hands brushing again, their arms touching and Alec really looked at him. At his smile, full of kindness and acceptance and understanding, comfort and trust. Warmth bloomed in Alec’s gut, all the way up through his chest. God he wanted him. He wanted a chance to see what this feeling meant. He wanted to spend every second of every day talking with him and arguing with him and learning about him. He wanted to take his hand and run his thumb along the back of his warm skin. He wanted to kiss him and hold him and be able to say for certain just how well they fit together like he imagined they would.
But is that all this was, just physical? Alec’s brain cut through that warm feeling like ice. The mountain of reasons why they shouldn’t be together reared its ugly head again, like a mantra: inexperience, different backgrounds, different centuries, terrible, terrible timing. Alec looked away, pushed his hands into his pockets. We’re so different. We’re so different. We’re so different. How could this possibly work? The constant, unrelenting cycle of thoughts in his head was making him lightheaded. He couldn’t shut them up. His anxiety level creeped higher and higher, choking him. He wanted to stop. He wanted to stop worrying. Wanted to stop thinking. Shut his brain up and tell his thoughts to take the night off. But it was so overwhelming. His head started to pound as they rounded the corner onto Magnus’s street. Alec looked up at the loft. The dim lights from inside spilling out onto Magnus’s balcony. The pounding in his head got steadily worse. He couldn’t do this.
“Are you coming up Alexander?” Magnus asked, already holding the door open. Alec took a deep, steadying breath.
The pounding in his head was drowning out everything else. Except the pounding of his heart.
