Alexander looks like an enigma under the daunting spotlight, his stark black tuxedo reflecting the light slightly as if he is glowing. His hair is mildly dishevelled, an intricate mess that I could just sink my hands into.

The strain beneath his carefully composed face is evident to me, if only because I've seen it a million times, as his lithe, long fingers dance across the keys, filling the crowded hall with a stream of music, capturing the attention of the thousands seated here.

Front row, 12 seats from the left, is my seat. No matter the venue, they're all mainly the same, and this place gives me the best view of my boyfriend, in all his spectacular, mysterious glory as he sheds himself on stage and creates energetic emotion with his music.

5 seats to my right, a woman dabs at her eyes, her vibrant red bottom lip trembling slightly. I don't blame her, I still get teary when I listen to him play. Even after 2 years of schooling before he got picked up to tour, of listening to him learn and grow, of watching his talent flourish and surpass whatever expectations he'd had for himself. The music, the raw, powerful commotion he breathes into silent stadiums still makes me weak.

The ensemble joins back in eventually, and Alec is damp with sweat from the exertion as his hands drift across the keys, less frantic, less pressured now. When the concert comes to a close, I applaud, standing with the rest of the crowd and smiling vibrantly up at the love of my life as he bows humbly before exiting stage left.

I skirt my way around the masses of people talking about the concert, about Alec, and smile at security as I sidle past them into the back area.

It's dark as I wind my way to his room, rapping the door twice before walking in.

He's loosening his tie, one hand pushing his unruly curls back as he turns to me.

"How was it?" As if it could ever be anything less than perfection, yet he asks, every single time. I chuckle, dragging my knuckles gently down his cheek.

"Amazing, as always," I reply, leaning in to nuzzle the warm place beneath his jaw. I feel him relax, his arms winding around me, warmth spreading through me. It's crazy to think, seeing how worked up he gets, that the boy is happiest when the spotlight is pinning him to the stage.

"Are we ready to head home?" I ask, pulling back slightly to glance at my watch. Alec stiffens minutely and I cock a brow, glancing at him.

"Not...exactly." He replies slowly. Confusion washes over me before Alec pulls me to his side, turning me to face the door.

"You did well, darling," Maryse states, cascading through the door like a waterfall of ink, her black, floor-length gown swishing around her shimmering high heels. Robert follows behind her, clad in a black tuxedo.

"Mother," Alec greets tersely as I move away from his side, watching as he embraces her in a quick hug. "I wasn't aware you two were coming tonight, you should've told me." It's a warning, a scolding beneath his smooth tongue, but if Maryse hears it, she chooses to ignore it, stepping back and tightening his tie before looping her arm through Robert's.

"Oh, it was a whim," she begins, and I see right through the lie before it's even past her dark red lips. Nothing Maryse Lightwood ever does is on a 'whim'. "We had to take Max to a weekend event, and we heard you were performing so we decided to come."

"How...nice of you," Alec slowly states, reaching up and loosening his tie once more, earning a resigned glare from his mother.

"Maryse, lovely to see you, and you as well Robert. I hope traffic was nice to you," I step forward, hoping to release the tension that's suffocating us and place a kiss on Maryse's hand before shaking Roberts'. When we'd graduated, Alec and I had fled to Brooklyn, about 20 minutes from New York City where we'd grown up. Apparently, 20 minutes wasn't far enough.

"It was no trouble. So, it's still early, dinner?" Maryse suggests, clasping her hands together. Shooting a glance in Alec's direction, I can instantly see the hesitance and reluctance in his eyes. Yet we both know we can't say no. It's been months since we've been home to visit, and an unhappy Maryse can last a lifetime.

"Of course, there's a lovely place a few blocks from here. Shall we?" I force a smile I don't feel and gesture to the door to exit the dressing room, watching as Alexander's parents turn to leave before I turn back to him.

"Behave tonight, it's only one evening," I ask, fixing his tie once more and combing his hair with my fingers. He stifles a groan and rolls his eyes, nodding impatiently. Placing a quick kiss on his lips, we turn and leave the safety of the small room and into the clutches of the wolf in a black gown.

***

The restaurant has a sultry, high-class atmosphere to it, the scent of roses and Chardonnay wash over us upon entering. I suggested the place since I'm on good terms with the chef/owner, meaning I'll get a table, and a good one, reservation or not.

I run an interior design business, and this place may have been one of my first projects.

We approach the maître d and I take the lead.

"Well, good evening my lovely lady, how are you doing tonight?" Taking Tessa's hand in my own, I brush my lips across her knuckles briefly. Her cheeks flush beneath her dark curls as she rolls her eyes.

"Forever the charmer, Magnus. Usual table?" She asks, grabbing some menus for us. I simply nod and grin as she guides us up a swirling staircase to the upper level of the restaurant. Tessa would be the owner, Jem's wife, a gentle, endearing woman.

Alec and my usual table sits near the glass wall that overlooks Brooklyn in all of its glory. False stars are beginning to light up the darkening sky as the towering buildings come to life.

"Do you know the people who own this place?" Robert asks me, opening his leather-bound menu. Humming, I nod in response.

"Yes, I actually was contacted by them a couple of years ago when I first started my business," I explain lightly, flipping the page of my menu.

"You designed this place?" Maryse asks, raising a perfectly shaped brow.

"He did, and several others. He has a real affinity for beauty," Alexander chimes in proudly, sending me a stealthy wink. I take a calculated sip of my water to hide the laugh that threatens to spill out.

"Hmm," Maryse responds vaguely. The action makes me ball my fist beneath the table, but I only smile, if only for Alec's sake. The things you do for Love, I tell you.

"So how has touring been going?" Robert asks, swirling his tumbler around until the large cubes swish through the amber liquid, clinking against the sides of the glass.

"Well, I just got back last week actually, from a few shows in Europe," Alexander explains, drawing a careful sip of red wine from his glass. Maryse has a scornful look on her face, dark eyes calculating, a predator planning her next move.

"It must be difficult," she finally chimes in, voice clear and tainted with false sympathy. I want to ask her to elaborate, but I know I won't appreciate the answer. Alec beats me to it.

"What must be difficult?" His tone is clipped in a way that tells me he understands the implications. Both of us, maybe even Robert, know we're playing into her trap.

"Being apart so often. It must put some sort of strain on your relationship." There it is. At first, Maryse had been passive about Alec being gay. Not supportive, but definitely not outright in objection. It seemed as if a switch was flicked the moment we became adults. Lifting her glass to her mouth, Maryse barely lets the wine slip past her lips.

"Magnus often comes with me, actually. Unless he's contracted for a job. It's rare we spend much time apart." He tells the truth, surprisingly. It's true that we're rarely apart. We manoeuvre around complex, busy schedules with the understanding that we will come first in each other's lives.

We made the mistake of being careless once before. We won't do it again.

"Still, it's not as if either of you are tied down to the relationship, I mean, I see no rings..." the waitress saves the day, a gentle smile crossing her face as she takes her place next to our table. I silently thank her.

We place our orders and the table falls into tense silence as the waitress glides back towards the stairs. No one is seated near us, the majority of the guests downstairs in the main dining hall. I almost wish I'd demanded a table downstairs if only to keep the conversation light and to reduce the chances of a scene.

Alec's face is still strained, I'm assuming from the previous comment about marriage. It's not as if we haven't spoken about it. But the timing hasn't been right, and we're both in such busy places in our life, a wedding would most certainly fall on the back burner. It's a logic thing, not something to be attributed to our lack of commitment.

"Are you suggesting that Magnus or I would be unfaithful when we're apart?" Alec finally asks incredulously, his voice low and layered in disbelief. Both of us are well aware of his mother's chagrin surrounding our relationship, but to be so vocal about it is new.

"Well, in so many words, I suppose that's the point I'm trying to make. You're not even married, for heaven's sake. How can you know?" She suggests, folding her hands together on top of the stark white tablecloth. I want to scream, shout, cry, but nothing happens. For once, my words are limited, and none of them appropriate if I wish to remain the adult here. Besides, this is between Alec and his mother, and as much as her words sting, they're his to fight. His to overcome. Had it been my father sitting here, things would be different. But I need to let him say his piece before getting involved.

"I know because I don't need a stupid ring to tell me he'll be waiting for me. I get the job done. Because that's what I do. And then I come home to Magnus and everything feels right again." I reach beneath the table, finding his hand and folding my fingers around it reassuringly. The tension in his shoulders eases, but I can tell he's still uncomfortable with the situation.

"Very well." Maryse concedes as the food is set in front of us and we begin our meal. But within both Alec and myself, something has shifted. This conversation isn't over. It's an understanding that even now, even as adults who lead our own lives, our pasts can catch up with us. Our ghosts somehow have a key to our home and there's no way to lock them out anymore.

Dinner passes in over-exaggerated silence as everyone rushes to finish their meal, to escape the unwelcome atmosphere. I pay the bill, insisting it's our treat since they're in our home, and for once, Maryse doesn't argue.

"Well, it was great catching up," Alec lies as we stand outside, in front of our cars.

"It was, perhaps you could come visit sometime. You never come home anymore." Robert offers, smiling at the both of us. I know with every fibre of my being that he's the better half.

"Perhaps," Alec replies simply, kissing his mothers cheek and briefly embracing his father.

"Lovely to see you," I offer with as much sincerity as I can falsify before they settle into the car and disappear into the late evening traffic.

Alexander deflates beside me, sinking into my side and I welcome him, scooping him against me and rubbing circles on his sharp hip.

"You did so well," I assure, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"She makes it so difficult," sighing, he hands me the keys and slides into the passenger seat, leaning his head against the window.

"Let's get you home," I suggest, starting the engine and sliding out into traffic.

"You've never had a better idea."