Torn Up / Magnus Nielsen Fluff
Request: Can I request one with Magnus Nielsen where the reader comforts him knowing how the disappearance of Mikkel is tearing him up though he acts differently in public?
My first Magnus! Thank you for sending in love! <3 Also warning there is some strong language!
Climbing up the last few crumbling brick steps, your hands outreached against the slightly crumbling white walls of the building’s stairwell, you nearly trip as you follow the sounds of soft sobs, and what also sounds like someone repeatedly punching their knuckles against cracking bricks. Sighing to yourself, you make a mental reminder to thank Charlotte Doppler for letting you know he had seen Magnus run up the school stairwell about ten minutes before the parent/ head teacher meeting was due to start.
The sound of his deep voice seemed to cry in the cold night air. It was like he gravity was pulling your orbit towards this cold, lonely star, anchoring onto his dimming light as you finally fumbled up the last step and leaned gently against the splintered door frame. A sigh tumbles out of your lips as you spots Magnus sitting on the edge of the roof, shivering lightly in nothing but a red tartan shirt, his blonde hair dishevelled as if tossed about by an invisible wind. He’s gazing up at the moon with a faraway isolation swirling in the specks of his eyes, a sense of forsaken resignation in his countenance, in the slight slump of his shoulders, as his fingers fumble at a heavily crinkled picture of him and Mikkel, one you had taken at his last birthday.
‘I thought I might find you here. Your mother was looking for you too, you know. Nearly scared the wits out of us.’
Magnus was silent for a minute, unsure and unable to find the right words to say to the girl who was a kindred spirit, the girl he had spent every English lesson. The girl he had been in love since he could remember. You fold your arms over your fleecy striped shirt, watching with slight alarm as Magnus only bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut with a nearly unnoticeable grimace before slowly shaking his head. Rubbing the tip of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb, he uses his other hand to rub his forehead right between his eyes, hoping and praying you don’t realise he’s only doing so to cover the teardrops that swell in the creases like shining dew drops, dripping their way down his flushed cheeks.
‘I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry y/n,’ Magnus manages to strangle out, coughing and swallowing heavily as he shakes out his shoulders. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I just needed somewhere to be alone for a minute.’
‘And why exactly is that?’
‘Why exactly is what?’
‘Be alone? Without me?’
You amble over, two thin fingers coming up to gently swipe the stray curls of his locks away from his concerned eyes as one leg flies through the air to straddle the wall next to his denim thigh, your chest facing towards him as Magnus’ lips tremble lightly underneath the blinking garden light above the fire escape, unable to meet your eyes.
‘It’s been a hard couple of weeks, y/n. Hell, a hard couple of years. And I’m not sure I can do it anymore.’
‘Hey, don’t say that. You have me, and your sister, and your mum-’
‘Don’t say that! Mum still blames me for Mikkel’s disappearance, and fuck, fuck, I still blame myself too!’, Magnus snaps, reaching up to wipe away hastily the tears that tumble down his cheeks clumsily in rain pours.
‘We just need to get out of this shithole town, Magnus. You and me.’
Tapping one boot against the floor, the curls of his hair beginning to fall over his swirling eyes as he finally releases the breath he had been holding in, he wraps one slender arm around your waist, his fingers splayed over the small dip of your back as he rubs your skin gently. You lean up to press dozens of fervent wet kisses against his forehead, the dip of his cheek, the tip of his nose and ears before his chin finally lands on the top of your head, the moonlight bathing the two of you in a calming glow. His shirt is itchy against your cheek as he pulls you tighter against his erratic heart, his chest radiating a comforting heat as you grasp onto the coarse material, bunching it familiarly underneath your fingertips as the two of you just stay there, locked together like Lego, just revelling in the comfort the two of you bring each other.
