It's been just over one week since I came home. And it's probably been the worst week of my life. The anxiety claws at my chest more often than not, and without Alec's soothing voice and touch, there's nothing to keep it at bay.

What's worse is he's right in front of me. As we sit here on a tense Thursday night, poking at our dinner in silence, I want to reach out to him. I want to confide in him but I feel as if I don't have the right. We've barely spoken and the distance just keeps growing- so far and so fast that I can't keep up. It's like I'm drowning- all the time.

Alexander's phone starts ringing and I drop my fork, jumping slightly. Sparing me a glance, he stands and grabs it, sliding the screen and answering as he enters the kitchen. I wait in the dense quiet, staring down at my plate and scrunching my brows together. My chest feels tight and I quickly stand, backing away from the table and clenching my eyes shut.

It used to make sense. When these first started, I understood. I was freaking out over the negative press coverage we were receiving. But now, it comes with barely any warning before I'm a trembling mess.

Making my way to the window, I throw it open, leaning out until the hot June air circles me, palms sweaty and knuckles white as I grip the window sill.

Sinking to my knees, I lean my forehead on the sill, trying to focus my breathing so that my chest doesn't hurt.

I need to get it together before Alec comes back and sees me like this. He doesn't need to pity me, especially not when he can't even look me in the eyes. He says he's not angry or disappointed in me, but it's clear.

I'm not even sure if he's in love with me anymore.

The thought sends me spiralling again and I catch a brutal sob in the back of my throat before it comes out, swallowing the feeling quickly and letting a few tears escape.

"Sorry, it was my mana- Magnus? What's going on?" Alec's footsteps echo off of the wood floor as he jogs over and I feel his hand fall between my shoulder blades as he collapses beside me on his knees.

I shake my head, clenching my eyes shut even tighter and sucking in a desperate breath. His other hand releases one of mine from the window sill and I fall back onto my behind, distancing myself from him and tugging my hand away, burying my face in my palms.

"Mags, hey, look at me, you've gotta tell me what's going on. I...I don't know what to do here-"

"I'm fine-" I manage to push out, the words muffled and shaky. I'm pushing so hard on my eyes to stop the tears that they ache and colours flash behind my closed lids.

Alec's hands unwind mine, tugging me against him and I lose myself there, pretending for a second that it's okay, that he's in love with me, as broken and scared as I've become, he loves me, still. It helps, in a way, clutching his shirt in my fists and breathing in his scent. It floods my senses- these sensations that I've felt so deprived of. For a second, I feel whole.

"Mags, Baby," the words cut through my chest like razors and I struggle to fight off an unattractive sob. "Talk to me, has this been going on since the first time?" I want to tell him no, that I'm so much stronger than this, but I can't lie anymore. I can't keep living like this, so isolated from him, from everything, even myself that these waves crash over me and I'm left breathless and broken. I nod into his chest, shutting my eyes again and trying to gain control over my aching chest.

"Okay, okay, we're going to be okay here, right?" He sounds worried now, my own panic seeming to seep through his skin where we touch. I try to nod again, but it feels like a lie.

"Are we?" I manage, voice raw and vulnerable.

"Of course we are, we always make it through alright. It's what we do." He assures, one hand rubbing my back soothingly, the other carding my messy hair. Dinner sits forgotten on the table and the sounds of Brooklyn night time wash in through the open window.

"Do you still love me?" I don't know why I ask. I don't think I even want to know, but before I can think better of it, the words are out, hanging in the air between us. But they don't hang for long.

"Are you kidding me? Mags, look at me," he urges. Hesitantly, I raise my head from its place just above his heart, eyes meeting his. They're wide and disbelieving. "I love you, with every little bit of me. And I'm sorry if I've been acting like I don't. I never want to make you question that, for any reason. You deserve to feel loved, and I'm sorry I haven't been doing that." His hands move, cupping my face, his calloused thumbs wiping away the tears clinging to my cheeks.

"Really?" My chest is loosening with every second, the panic ebbing away as I focus on the swirling in his eyes.

"Really. Things have been...so crazy lately, for both of us. I just got lost trying to balance it all. But you, Magnus, you always come first. I forgot that. But I won't forget it again." The warm assuredness of his voice further soothes me and I feel a small smile break onto my lips. His mouth mirrors my own, a lopsided grin opening and I feel so relieved that he said it. That he still loves me.

"What did your manager want?" I ask now that I've calmed down. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

"He wanted me to extend my tour, do France for a week, and then travel up into Germany and the UK. I told him that now really isn't the time- but he was so adamant. He said I needed 'good press' after everything." His dark eyes roll once again and I furrow my brows, frowning.

"He's right, you know." I offer, wiping my eyes and leaning back a bit to look at him.

"No, I can't just go on extended tour right now. We need to focus on each other, not my career."

"But you won't have a career to go back to if you ignore it," I remind him, reaching up to smooth my hand across his cheek, tracing the line of his sharp jaw in the dim light of the living room.

"I don't want to be away from you," Alexander confesses, leaning into my hand and turning to place a warm kiss on the inside of my wrist, his hand reaching up to encircle it.

"Neither do I. But it's just a few weeks, right?" He sighs, nodding and ghosting his lips across my palm. "Besides, I have a lot of work to catch up on, I've been neglecting it. We do need some good press. But it'll take some hard work." I suggest, leaning forward until our foreheads are touching.

"But that's three weeks- at least- away from each other. We're so rocky right now- what if it's a bad idea?" His worry is clear on his face, eyes boring into my own, fear coursing through his veins. Despite my dishevelled look, I manage to smile.

"We're not rocky. We're solid like we always are. Three weeks isn't going to break us." I sound so sure, even to myself, and I'm kind of proud of that. It's true, though. I know it. Three weeks is nothing.

"And your panic attacks? What about those?" Alec reminds me gently, combing his fingers through my hair gently.

"I'll go talk to a therapist or something. We'll be okay." He nods and smiles softly. And we just sit there, enamoured by each other for a little while until the world feels alright because heaven knows we deserve a moment of peace after everything.

A couple of hours later, we've cleaned up dinner and gotten ready for bed. I sink under the sheets, and into his arms, no distance breaking us apart anymore. For the first time in at least two weeks, it all feels alright again, and I feel invincible with him beside me. And I remind myself, even when we're apart, that I'm just as invincible then because he loves me. He loves me, even when it's hard to see why.

***

I close the deal with the law firm the next day. Sighing contently into my cup of coffee, I open my laptop on my desk. Alec's at home, probably back in bed after we shared breakfast together, and it feels like we have a somewhat normal routine going on. It's nice to feel at ease, even if it's this simple. Clicking on the keyboard, I look up therapists in Brooklyn. So many pop up that it's a little overwhelming. Taking a sip of coffee, I ground myself, breathing deeply and methodically going through my options.

After around an hour of research, I come across one who seems somewhat promising- a young woman, only a year or so into her practice. Maia Roberts. Sighing and feeling the nerves eating away at my confidence, I pick up my phone and dial the number to her office.

I make an appointment for the next afternoon, filling a cancellation, and the nerves don't go away. I never saw myself as the type to go to therapy, but if it'll help get to the bottom of this anxiety, I'm willing to give it a shot. For myself, and partially for Alexander. If I'm not breaking down all the time, I feel we'll have a lot less to apologize for. Finishing my work up for the day, I stand, shrugging back into my suit jacket and grabbing my briefcase as I slip into the elevator.

"See you on Monday, Cat," I wave and offer her a smile that she returns before I head out into the bright sunlight, blinking at it as I slide my sunglasses on and head to my car. The drive back home is long, dealing with the early evening rush hour, and I feel relieved when I finally park and make my way up to the apartment.

Stepping inside, I'm enveloped with the scent of Thai food. Humming in appreciation, I see Alec peek his head out from the kitchen.

"You're home," He smiles and wipes his hands on a plaid cloth in his hand, making his way over. His lips taste like comfort and love and I smile into them, pulling him closer.

"You cooked?" I ask, peeking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of whatever he's putting together.

"Well, I tried to. And when that failed, I ordered in from your favourite Thai place." Laughter breaks through my lips and I shake my head, pressing my lips to his jaw endearingly and smiling against his blushing skin.

"You're the best." I change into army green joggers and a loose fitting v neck before we settle together on the couch with our dinner, two glasses of wine on the coffee table. Alec flicks on the television, some cooking show on the screen that neither of us pays much attention to.

"So I made an appointment today." I tell him, stuffing some noodles into my mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

"Did you? How was that?" I watch as he takes a sip of wine before smiling at me.

"Good, I think. Her names Maia Roberts. She's fairly young and seems to have a really great reputation. I'm a little nervous, though," it's so cathartic to be honest with him again. To feel like I can talk to him about what I'm so afraid of instead of hiding it.

"That makes sense. This is all really new. I'm sure everything will be great, Mags," I nod and grin at him, taking another bite of food. "I agreed to my manager's proposal today. We're going to do two and a half weeks and skip the UK this time. We compromised." I nod and smile proudly at him.

"Good, it'll be nice for you to get back on track." He nods as well and sets his wine glass down.

"I also convinced him to fly you out for one of the shows." I laugh and shake my head, happiness rushing through me.

"Now that's what I like to hear. France or Germany?" I take a sip of my own wine, glancing at him over the rim.

"Germany. I know how much you love Berlin in the summer." It's the little things like this that remind me how much I love this man, and just how much he loves me. I think, sometimes, that he knows me far better than he lets on. But that's alright, too. I like the fact that he knows me better than I know myself sometimes. It makes it easier when I get lost.

"I am a sucker for Berlin."

We wash dishes together, the mundane domesticity of it all absolutely adored by me. It's perfection if there ever was such a thing, and I don't think France, or Italy, or Berlin could beat these moments. Nothing ever could.