The auditorium is full, as I expected it to be. My burgundy suit looks black beneath the daunting half-light as I make my way down to my seat. In the distance, I can faintly hear the tuning of instruments; the tightening of already taut strings and the baritone notes of rich brass.

The hum of everyone's voices melt together around me as I sink into the red velvet seat, setting the folded program in my lap.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you Magnus Bane?" A woman asks me, her accent sharp and her voice hushed as to not disturb the soft atmosphere surrounding us. Her hair is dark, almost red in the soft lighting and piled up on top of her head. Dark, curious eyes meet mine and I figure she can't be much older than myself.

"Yes," I reply cautiously. "Can I help you?" I try to remain as polite as I can, though I often don't really like the attention when it's meant to be for Alec.

The strange young woman glances at her wristwatch and smiles at me persuasively. "Would you mind stepping outside with me before the performance begins? I would just love to ask you a few questions." Immediately I'm suspicious. I've done my interviews on the upcoming interior line, and I've given more than enough quotes.

"Questions about what?" I inquire hesitantly, clasping my hands in my lap.

"Well, it has been said that you've been experiencing some backlash as of late about your sexual orientation. I'd just die if I could get a quote on that from you." The pit that's been eating away at the inside of my chest grows. My throat closes in on itself and I can barely scoff because this, right here, is absolutely ludicrous.

"No, absolutely not," I state strictly, turning to look back at the stage as instrumentalists begin to file in, their stark black and white dress ware gleaming.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, I just saw something online and I'm an aspiring journalist, and this story-"

"Is mine. And none of the media's business. Now, please, I'd just like to watch my boyfriend play piano." Even to my own ears, I sound exhausted. Over it. Done with the conversations surrounding who I choose to share my life with. And even if it is a man, why does everyone care? Why should they?

The quiet bass of the brass section brings me back to reality. Alec isn't on stage yet, and I watch as the conductor tunes the orchestra seated before him. The journalist- whose name I didn't care to get- has gone back to her seat in defeat. I don't feel bad. If anything, she should. It's bad enough I get judged in my personal life, I don't need to add mass media to that list. The last thing I want to see is my face plastered on the front of some magazine with the words homosexual and hate splashed across my body. And in Italy, as well. It's followed me all the way to Italy.

A warm hush falls over the large auditorium as the conductor takes his place. It's as if no one dare breathe, lest pierce through the magic. Time almost ceases to exist as everyone inhales in anticipation.

When the first note strikes, everyone exhales, giving themselves to the music. The symphony unravels in front of me and I immerse myself in it, pushing away the thoughts assaulting my brain and living, breathing, losing myself in the majesty of it all.

As the music loses its intensity and falls into a soft background, Alec strides onto the stage, the spotlight pinning him to the shiny black seat in front of the piano. I watch as he stretches his arms out in front of him, hovering them over the keys.

And all at once, the world shifts. His hands move across the keys with purpose and passion. From where I sit, I can see his eyes close, a line forms between his brows as he exudes everything into this piece. It's raw, it's powerful and emotional, and I can feel a familiar dampness in my eyes.

His long fingers dash across the keys, brilliantly tearing up the melody and I shatter with it. I listen intently as he slowly pulls it back together, stitching his chords in with those of the orchestra, attempting, ferociously, to stitch me back together, too.

When the performance ends, the room erupts in applause, and I stand with them, blinking back my emotions until the organized chaos calms.

Once the crowd disperses, I begin to walk the opposite direction as them, finding my way to the back where he's waiting.

He gleams when he sees me, hair damp with sweat as he kisses me. I melt into him, I try desperately to ignore the pestering journalist, the unsettling emotions making me nauseous, the fear and self-loathing that are tearing me apart.

"What did you think?" He asks, turning away to grab a bottle of water.

"You were amazing." I almost choke on the words, feeling dizzy and claustrophobic. All I want to do is hide away from everything. Suddenly, his palms are against my jaw, tilting my head up to meet his concerned gaze.

"Mags, what's wrong?" He asks, stroking my jawbone. I swallow thickly and force a smile.

"Nothing. Just jet-lagged." I lie. I hate the way it settles on my tongue, inside my mouth, a sickly sweet coating that could make me sick. He furrows his brows together, worry etched across his features but I reach up, capturing his hands in mine and smile.

"Are we ready to go back to the hotel?" He asks me, squeezing my hands.

"What about the after party?" I reply, knowing our international shows normally end with a meet and greet with the highly esteemed.

"Not tonight. I'll tell them I'm feeling ill." Shrugging, he slides his jacket on, sinking his fingers into the spaces between mine.

"Are you sure?"

"You're right about the jet lag. I doubt I'll be much fun. Mel should be here shortly." I don't argue after that, honestly because I don't think I could handle it.

I don't talk much on the drive back to the hotel. Luckily, Alec and Mel don't question me about it. Once we're back in our room, I waste no time showering and curling up beneath the covers. I feel small, an out of place, mess of a human.

When I feel Alec curl up behind me, I want to tell him the truth, I want to be honest, but I don't want my struggles to be heavy on his shoulders like they are on mine. His arm winds itself around my waist, and I relax at the warmth of his chest against my back, trying to make myself believe that somehow, this will all be okay.

***

The last few shows and days in Italy have gone by smoothly. I haven't heard a single thing from any more 'aspiring journalists' and the havoc reigning inside of me seems to have quieted down.

I watch as Alec tidies himself up in the attached bathroom of his dressing room after a spectacular final show. International shows always make him nervous, but with the nerves comes an insatiable excitement. He thrives on strange faces, dialect and languages he can't quite decipher. Thrill radiates off of him when countless people pour their heart out to him with heavy accents and tear-stained cheeks. This is what he lives for- the raw, powerful emotion that music creates- that he creates.

"Are you ready? I'm sure the after party has just started," Alec walks toward me, fixing his cufflink. Reaching out, I fix it for him and smile.

"Ready." We make our way out of the auditorium from the back and into the car waiting with Mel behind the wheel.

"Great show tonight, Alec. You were on fire," Meliorn compliments, flashing my boyfriend a proud smile. Alexander chuckles and scratches the back of his neck shyly.

"Ah, thanks, Mel." Forever humble, Alec's always been the one to shy away from his accomplishments.

We pull up outside the venue, and already I can hear the soft music pouring out from the building. The gate opens before us and Meliorn drives around the fountain out front, sliding out of the car with us as a valet smiles and takes the keys, giving us a small ticket that Mel tucks into his pocket.

No one really knows where Meliorn came from. He's been a friend of Izzy for the past few years since he met her at a clothing store back in high school. He's always been vague, yet undeniably kind and generous. Though, no ones sure his lineage, or who his family is. All we really know is he's a good friend, reliable, loyal and loving, and that the man knows people everywhere.

My point is proven as we walk inside and he bids us goodbye to go speak to a seemingly close friend near the bar.

We've never seen the guy before. We don't ask questions. Honestly, it's best not to know.

Soon enough, eyes turn to us. The room quiets minutely as everyone takes in who has just entered. Alexander Lightwood. The person they just paid outrageous amounts of money to watch perform. Several members of the orchestra are also in attendance, as well as the conductor, people who Alec and I see only on occasions when his talents bring him to Italy.

These events, though long and often boring, are a warm, well-lit place where Alec and I can be together. It's something I've always taken for granted, but now, as his hand rests on my lower back and I don't feel the need to flinch away and protect myself, I recognize the sanctity and bliss of it all. Anyone who pays good money to come to the performances and even better money to attend these events knows our relationship. They're aware that we're together and don't shy away from it.

A woman with an air of importance to her comes our way, a glass of champagne in her hand, red lips and a navy gown that seems to be doused in sparkles. Her dark hair is intricately spiralled on top of her head. I recognize her immediately- she's the daughter of one of the Italian sponsors. 

"Ah, Alexander Lightwood. Your show, molto bene," she compliments with a thick Italian accent that spills into the air delicately. Alec reaches out, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it. 

"Grazie, Signora," he replies smoothly, the language melting off his tongue like silk. It sends shivers down my spine. They chat for a moment before she turns to me. 

"Ah, Magnus Bane," she greets, stepping forward and briefly embracing me. I lightly kiss both of her cheeks, welcoming her embrace before stepping back. I met Lia nearly a year ago, with Alec at his first Italian show. We spoke about interior design for ages, and she showed an interest in my ideas, actually one of the first people to believe I had a chance. 

"Lia, lovely to see you again. I trust you've been keeping well?" She smiles, her red lips parting to reveal two rows of perfectly white teeth. 

"Always, and you, your design line. It comes out soon?" She notes, swirling her champagne. A server walks over and offers Alec two sparkling glasses, which he takes, handing one to me. 

"In a month, yes," I answer, smiling. 

"You'll call me then, yes?" Lia demands, earning a chuckle from both Alec and I. The girl stands at least 3 inches below my own height, and that's in her deadly heels. She's about as intimidating as a robin, but I don't dare tell her that. 

"Of course, you can hold me to it." Soon after, Lia is drifting back into the crowd, her gown swirling behind her like a wave, catching the rays of the low light and reflecting the beams back across the room. 

"She's a sweet girl," I comment, taking a sip of the bubbly alcohol. Alec hums in response. The evening passes in a high-class blur. Alec takes compliments humbly, as he does, and they come like a storm. Everyone who is in this room knows of his talents, has seen them first hand, and is in awe of the things he can do. Hell, I'm still in awe of him and we've been together just over 4 years now. 

By the time the event is winding down, it's nearly 1:30 in the morning. My phone buzzes, and I glance down at the text from Meliorn, letting us know he has the car pulled up around front. 

"Is that Mel?" Alec asks, sleepiness seeping into his voice. I nod, reaching out for his hand. His fingers fit between mine as we make our way to the front doors. Several people who I've never seen before wish us a good night and praise Alec once more as we exit. Once we're safely in the backseat of the car and heading back to the hotel, Alexander rests his head in the hollow of my neck. I can tell he falls asleep when soft, quiet snores fill the air. It's moments just like this one, when the warm night surrounds us, and the lights of a city that doesn't know us glow softly, that I feel at peace. It's moments just like this when I remember that everything I'll ever have to go through will be worth it because, in the end, I'll have him.