timeless treasures

“It’s not what you think,” Magnus says, his heart giving a painful squeeze. “A spell of mine went a little haywire, and it hit you. You’ve – you’ve forgotten me. I promise, Alexander, you do know me.”

Alec simply stares at him suspiciously. He lowers his hand and his gaze darts around the loft, fixing on little things, like the potted plant on the windowsill, or the coffee machine still gurgling away. It’s still early morning, the first rays of sunlight stirring the clouds into soft peaks, visible through the open window. Alec is bathed in a white glow, and even sleepy-eyed and bleeding, he looks beautiful. Magnus feels the same indescribable ache he’s always felt whenever he looks at Alec, but this time it hurts a little more, because when Alec looks at him, he doesn’t feel the same way.