Jonathan waits at the apartment door and in silence we cover the distance to the cab. The driver looks as listless as I feel. Especially after the extremely strange conversation with Jonathan about his past love and best friend, I wish I had a headache as a suitable excuse. But Jonathan would never believe me. So I surrender to my fate and chisel a smile on my face. The ride is silent, Jonathan doesn't let me hold his hand and so I save the smile for the party. That I do not agree with this distance at all, I let my friend feel clearly. I know that it is not fair to him. An open and honest conversation is long overdue. However, an ice-cold shiver runs down my spine at the thought of it. He, too, is behaving anything but normally.

Far too often over the past two years, I have tried to figure out exactly what happened to us. Far too often, questions turned in circles and the answers to them scattered in all directions. Jonathan is not good at dealing with his emotions. One inappropriate word and the tears burst out of him like torrents. It is impossible to have a conversation at eye level. I have often tried to break through the dreariness of our lives. But I do not succeed. I have given up, resigned. But I was not ready to take the step of separation. It is not that I have no more feelings for the man at my side. But the great tingling and anticipation of each new day has not been felt for quite a while.

I have never felt so uncomfortable entering Jace and Clary's house as I do today. Jonathan kneads his hands nervously as Clary greets us joyfully. Searchingly, he looks around and heads straight for the kitchen without another word. I follow him and close the door to get a brief moment of breathing.
"Is this going to go on all night?", I ask, accepting the glass of bubbling water. Jonathan literally pounces on the beer in his hands and I wonder how much he'll drink tonight. I'm guessing quite a bit.
"What do you mean?"
"That you're ignoring me. You wanted me to come," I reply.
"Yes. Of course I want you to come," he says, and as soon as his lips touch the neck of the bottle, the malty drink flows greedily down his throat. Unlike me, Jonathan is very hard drinking. So I'm not surprised that the bottle is already half empty.

"Well then, you won't mind if I hold your hand while we enter the fray. Clary will have already announced us to Jace," I say, trying to get some of the old closeness back. I reach for his hand and intertwine our fingers together. Jonathan drains the rest of his drink in one go and changes the empty bottle for a full one. I help him, placing the bottle opener on the edge of the crown cap, and the hissing sound abruptly catapults me back to a bar from three years ago. Hazy clouds of smoke and the taste of English ale. Loud music from a folk band and sinful lips. A night with a man who has been a part of our relationship ever since.

"I'm acting like the last diva. I'm sorry baby. But I'm very nervous. Alec was my best friend. Next to Jace. It's complicated," he says and I nod in understanding.
"I mean, it's normal. But you're all three grown men. You're not teenagers anymore and you're in the middle of life. Jace works tirelessly to provide new fodder for the nerds of the world. Alec delights the world with his soccer talent. And you...", I interrupt the list, stand close to Jonathan and let my lips glide gossamer softly over the soft skin on his neck.
"... You're as beautiful as ever and hopefully you'll be back to your old self soon," I murmur. But instead of a satisfied growl, I get a sarcastic snort. What on earth in this fucking world is his problem? With raised eyebrows, I look at him, feeling like he's not really with me anymore.

"What is it now?", I ask, slightly annoyed.
"Do you think I've changed?" And here we go again. The second time that evening.
"Let's not discuss this now. This isn't the place for it," I counter placatingly. Jonathan wipes his face with the flat of his hand and smiles at me. To an outsider, it looks like everything is settled between us. But I know that's not the case. The smile does not reach his eyes. There were plenty of moments when I saw this. All of them remained unspoken until today, hovering over us accusingly.
"Let's go find Jace. I haven't even congratulated him yet."
"You haven't called him at all today?", I ask, irritated. This is out of character. They talk on the phone almost every day, and especially on a day like today, Jonathan usually can't wait to pick up the phone.

"No I didn't. I didn't have time. And he was certainly busy with Alec."
"That sounds kind of ambiguous now. But I like the raunchy implication. Jace is hot, no question," I say with a grin. My friend's face, on the other hand, is rigid and expressionless.
"Are you done?" he asks. The kitchen door opens swingingly and a tall man with blond hair and eyes already glassy from the alcohol stands in the doorway. With his arms folded in front of his chest and an accusing look on his face, he looks back and forth between Jonathan and me.
"What's keeping you? Why are you hiding in the kitchen?" asks Jace, and Jonathan's expression instantly brightens. This time the smile reaches his eyes as well, even turning into a joyful gleam. It was so clear that Jace would elicit this reaction. It happens more often than I would like. But today, I don't really care. Another constant dreariness in our lives. Jace is there and my friend is trapped in his own cosmos.

"All the best my friend," I hear Jonathan say as he wraps Jace in a tight hug. Both men press against each other's bodies and you'd think they were the poster gay couple for this event. Congratulations and thank-yous are exchanged. Whispered words and a friendly peck on the cheek of the birthday boy. I already know this spectacle. It is the same every year. And just like every year, I stand behind my friend and wait for my grand entrance. But today, an excited tickle spreads through my body. Clary didn't say a word about my appearance. Yet she certainly noticed. Jonathan had disappeared so quickly into the kitchen and I hurried to follow him. There was hardly time to wait for Clary's reaction.

Jace is open and never had a problem with Jonathan preferring men. Even though we are not the thickest of friends, Jace has always treated me with respect and never judged me. I continue to hope for that tolerance and tap my friend on the shoulder. I clear my throat as neither of them wants to break the hug voluntarily.
"All the best from me too Jace," I say, finally getting the attention I want.
"Thanks man." Jace's handshake is firm and the grip off-puttingly painful. I calmly inhale through my nose and am relieved when he releases the connection of our hands. His eyes slide over my face and with each new detail, his pupils dilate and black clearly dominates his irises. He is surprised. That's all I can make out in his expression. I feel a little like I'm at the airport and Jace's eyes are the scanner going over my body, trying to find the hidden metal.

As he does so, it lies open and free on my body, clearly visible to everyone.
"Wow. Magnus," he says, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Jace Herondale is speechless. I can't believe I'm still experiencing this.
"I thought I'd bring out the party Magnus and give him some space," I reply, chuckling. The look on his face is gold.
"You look good. Different. Unusual. I've never seen you like this," he stammers.
"Jonah does," I say, putting my arm around his waist. Jonathan stiffens. Of course, I don't miss his posture. It sucks, and this is the moment I decide to throw my principles overboard and switch from water to beer.

I release Jonathan from my all-devouring death grip and turn my attention to the selection of drinks provided. Beer. A numbing golden-yellow elixir that at least gives me a peaceful night's sleep.
"Is he there?", I hear Jonathan ask excitedly. His voice trembles slightly. I don't have to ask to know who they're talking about.
"Yes. He's happy to see you."
"Honestly. I'm nervous."
"Don't be. He's long over it and happy with his wife," Jace says reassuringly. Apparently there's been some bigger stuff between them. I just remembered that Jonathan didn't tell me why they never became a couple. And why Alec left before he graduated high school. If I interpret my friend's comments correctly, they shared first experiences and extremely intimate moments. Jonathan was no longer a virgin when I met him.

"Magnus, are you coming over?" asks Jonathan, and I turn around with a beer in my hand, smiling.
"Are you going to drink that?" he asks skeptically, pointing to the bottle in my hand.
"I was planning on it, yeah. Why? Am I not allowed to?" You can clearly tell that the blessing of our house is no longer quite so straight.
"Help yourself. You can drink what you want," Jace saves the situation before it can escalate. Jonathan grabs my hand and looks deep into my eyes. The green has always fascinated me and excitedly his gaze darts over my face and finally sticks to my lips.
"Thank you for coming with me," he whispers. Swallowed by a loud roar that blows over to us from the living area, I murmur a reply and follow Jonathan.

The sight that presents itself to me is a picture for the gods, but also slightly disturbing. Five men in football jerseys, some of them too small, stand at the window to the veranda and lie singing in each other's arms. No, singing is not the right word. They are bawling. Out of deepest conviction and now I know why my friend wears his old Chelsea jersey. A small part of his old team has gathered around Jace and together they belt out an anthem, the melody of which sends shivers down my spine. Jonathan lets go of my hand and pushes his way between Simon Lovelace and Jace to be close to his best friend. The looks they exchange are drenched in memories, close friendship, deep connection and brotherly love.

"Blue is the color, football is the gameWe're all together,and winning is our aimSo cheer us on through the sun and rain'cause Chelsea, Chelsea is our nameHere at the Bridge whether rain or fineWe can shine all the timeHome or away, come and see us playYou're welcome any day HEY...!Blue is the color, football is the gameWe're all together,and winning is our aimSo cheer us on through the sun and rain'cause Chelsea, Chelsea is our nameCome to the Shed and we'll welcome youWear your blue and see us throughSing loud and clear'til the game is doneSing Chelsea everyone...!HOO...!"

A man appears in front of Jace and I catch a glimpse of his profile as he greets my friend with a nod of his head. I feel like I'm going to lose the ground under my feet at any moment. Black hair, dark as the night we lost ourselves in. His back is still beautifully shaped and I can feel the muscles under his perfectly fitting football jersey with the number six and the curved letters of a name under my fingertips. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. Or maybe it's just a silly coincidence. The blue of his irises burns accusingly into my retina, and his sweet voice gently penetrates my ear.

"Blue is the color, football is the gameWe're all together,and winning is our aimSo cheer us on through the sun and rain'cause Chelsea, Chelsea is our nameBlue is the color, football is the gameWe're all together,and winning is our aimSo cheer us on through the sun and rain'cause Chelsea...Chelsea is our nameChelsea is our name...!"

I open my eyes and look into the face of the man who captured my imagination not two hours ago. In front of me, with one arm around Jace and the other around Matthew Fairchild stands the man from London who fucked my brains out one cold dark autumn night and returned to his wife the next morning.