The magazines and newspapers are laid out across the table. I try to ignore the words and headlines, but it's as if they're all I can see.

Interior Design mogul Magnus Bane has been targeted for being homosexual.

Longtime boyfriend of Alexander Lightwood, Magnus Bane, has received backlash for his sexuality.

In response to his new interior design line, designer Magnus Bane has been the victim of a homosexual hate crime.

Magnus Bane and Alexander Lightwood are facing the stark reality of being homosexual in the spotlight. What's next?

What's next? The question haunts me, clings to my skin and I shiver under the weight of it. I don't know what's next. Not for my business. Not for Alec's. Not for our relationship, or anything else. I thought getting away from New York City would be good. I thought it would be an escape. I just never thought that I'd be running straight into the jaws of sharks who want to tear me apart. I didn't think so many people were filled with such hate.

Alexander walks into the room, sighing as he looks at the articles laid out in front of me. Walking over, he shuffles them all into a neat pile before throwing them in the recycling.

"Enough of that. I don't care what the stupid headlines say," he complains, pouring himself a coffee.

"You don't? They involve you, too." I comment, passing a hand over my face. I didn't sleep at all the past couple of days. My building is almost ready to reopen, but for what? What do I have to go back to?

"So? It's mindless media that has no right to be making a profit off of us. If I had it my way, I'd sue all of their asses." He grumbles, lifting the mug to his lips, a hard set to his tired eyes.

"I'm sorry about all of this." It hurts to say those words- I never want to have to apologize to him, it's always been my goal to never upset him again. He looks at me dubiously, brows scrunched together as he sets his coffee mug on the countertop.

"Why on earth are you sorry, Mags?" Strikingly, his voice is soft and curious. He reaches out and takes my hand. I shrug, finding I can't meet his gaze.

"Because it shouldn't even involve you. If people want to hate me for my sexuality, it's whatever. But I don't want you involved. I hate that you're getting dragged into this, and I'm sorry." Pulling me to his chest, Alec shakes his head.

"You're ridiculous sometimes, Mags. Whatever happens to you, happens to me, too. Because we're partners. That's how it works. And I don't want you to feel bad because some people are assholes. That's not your fault." I nod into his shoulder, unable to find the will to argue. The guilt sits heavy on my chest all the same, and I let it stay because I know I should feel guilty. Whether it's for dragging him into this, or for being gay, or being myself, I don't know. I just feel like I have a lot to apologize for.

"Come on, let's go finish up our plans for my shows in France next week." He suggests, pulling back and clasping my hand in his own again. Grateful for the distraction, I nod, following him into the living room. Halfway there, his phone rings. "Hold on," he tells me, looking down at the caller ID with a grim expression before picking up. "Hello?" I can faintly hear the person on the other line and find my own face settling into a darker look at the sound of Maryse's voice.

"The news reported a story about Magnus' building getting broken into. What happened?" She demands, voice taut and strict. Alexander sighs, giving me an apologetic look, but I smile softly in return, trying to tell him I understand.

"It's nothing we can't handle, mom," he assures calmly, leaning against the back of the couch with an annoyed expression.

"Are you so sure? What about your career, Alexander? You need to think about the repercussions of this. If he's a sinking ship, I'll be damned if he takes my son down with him." The words burn a little inside my rib cage, a dull fire that I wasn't aware I'd become so accustomed to. But it's there, almost always now, flaring up when words like that hit me. His eyes darken minutely, but I notice. I notice everything about that boy.

"My boyfriend and I are none of your concern. And if you're calling to scold me or 'warn' me, I'm not interested. As far as I'm concerned, you don't have any pull over me anymore. So grow up and get over my decisions and life, or get out of it." My brows raise in shock at his words. I guess the build-up of everything over the past while is finally catching up to him. I'm shocked though that it's coming out at Maryse. In the past, Alec wouldn't even look her in the eye. Now, though, he's a new person, bold and beautiful in his existence. Wild, unapologetic and free.

It's silent on the other end of the call and Alec hangs up, exhaling deeply before looking at me.

"I'm-" He cuts me off, raising his hand and giving me a small smile.

"Don't apologize for that, either, Mags. She needed to hear it sometime." I nod and smile pathetically, reaching out for his hand. Even with his hand clasping mine, I feel like a letdown. I can't shake this feeling that everything's about to give. 

***

It happens when I go back to my office for the first time. It's been four days since the vandalism, and the building is finally put back together. Catarina offers me a small smile as I walk in, and I force one back before walking into the second part of the store.

The room looks normal. Even better than before. But the smell of fresh paint still clings to the walls like the feeling of insecurity clings to my bones. I shudder slightly and feel the burn that has settled infinitely in my lungs flare up into a full-blown fire. The scent overwhelms me, even if, rationally, I know it's not that strong. 

Swallowing thickly, I try to focus on breathing. The simple rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. The air gets caught in my lungs - too thick, too hot- and I feel as if I'm choking. Grasping the doorframe, I clench my jaw, shutting my eyes too tightly and trying to force myself to calm down. 

I think it's called a panic attack. But I've never had one. I didn't think I ever would. 

Even with my eyes closed, the words that had been so deliberately painted onto the walls burn my eyelids. I can't force them out of my mind, can't begin to move on when the pain and inner resentment is still so fresh. 

"Magnus? What's going on? Are you alright?" Catarina's voice, layered heavily with concern, can't break through the wall of anxiety and fear surrounding me. She sounds far away, even though her hand on my arm reminds me she's right beside me. Sinking to the floor, I pull my knees up to my chest, burying my face in them as the hot tears wash over my cheeks, bleeding into my dress pants. 

She's talking again, but it's not to me. Through my hazy, crazed mind, I assume she must be on the phone. I don't care enough to lift my head, still forcing small, tight breaths, still trying to remain grounded when I feel as if I have no control. 

My entire body is vibrating, high speed, electric. Nausea rolls in my stomach, hot and threatening, and I swallow again to force the bile down. 

Time passes, I'm sure, even if I can't place how long, and soon enough, the one voice I don't want to hear, yet am so desperate for, breaks through. 

"Baby, Mags, what's happening? Look at me," his hands take mine, slowly, carefully, as if I'll shatter at the wrong move. His thumbs rub small circles on the backs of my hands and I try to memorize the way it feels. Blinking the remaining tears out of my eyes, I peek up at him. 

His hairs a mess, as if he just woke up, which would make sense. I let him sleep in this morning. I didn't think I could face him. I guess I was right. Last night, despite his best efforts, it felt as though there were miles between us, not just inches. His body, it's warmth, comfort and familiarity called out to me, but as my own personal punishment, I forced myself away. I don't deserve him. He doesn't deserve to be burdened by me and my issues. Maryse is right. I won't sink him. Not if I can avoid it. 

He's expecting me to speak, his eyes wandering over my face, dripping with uncertainty and concern. I shake my head, just barely, but it's enough. Gently, he pulls me toward him until my face is lost in his t-shirt, his scent washing over me, my own drug, the one thing that can calm me. My body slowly stops shaking, but I feel the quiver in my bones, deep inside my heart and soul, stuck there, unrelenting. 

"It's going to be okay, love. I've got you," he assures me. I can't tell him that those words are exactly what I'm worried about. Even if, when we were kids, he was the one who was afraid, it was different. We're adults now, grown-ups with responsibilities and reputations. We're supposed to be different, mature and ready to face the world. But I feel as though I can't even face myself, let alone him, his perfection, certainty and adoration. It sickens me that he thinks I'm worth it. That he's so blind he can't see how wrong he is. 

I'm not worth it. That's blatantly clear now. I don't deserve Alexander. I don't deserve him at all. 

He helps me up sometime later and Catarina promises she can handle today on her own. I don't argue, instead letting Alec guide me back to the parkade and into his car. I don't even care that we're leaving mine here. I don't care about much of anything except for myself, breaking down, each part of me splintering off like old wood. 

The drive is silent, but his hands are tight on the steering wheel. I wonder what his mind says. I wonder if he's realizing it, too. Just how destructive I've become. 

"Come on, babe. Let's head inside. I'll make us some tea and we can cuddle," he offers when he parks the car back at home. I nod slowly, unbuckling my seatbelt and slowly getting out of the car. I follow him inside, but it feels as though I'm just going through the motions, no investment, nothing left. 

He follows through, ushering me to go change into something comfortable as he busies himself with the kettle. I don't want to, partially because I'm terrified to be alone, but I make myself hurry, shrugging out of my suit and into a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I quickly look away. My eyes are rimmed red, aching dully from crying, and my hair is a tousled wreck. Dark bags cover the spaces beneath my eyes, stark reminders of a lack of sleep and self-care. Even my body looks different- worn and ragged, broken somehow. 

Alec meets me in our bedroom, setting two steaming mugs of tea on the nightstand as he pulls back the covers, offering me a gentle smile. I slide beneath them, sinking back into the pillows and contemplating what's next. What's next for all of this? Us? 

His arm winds around my waist and I let myself fall into him. Just this one more time. To remember how fucking lucky I've been. And how, somehow, I let it die.