He always found endings disappointed. It didn't matter if they were tearjerkers or happily ever afters. Especially the happily ever after. He didn't believe in the reality of them.

Reality was, no one was happy forever. Happiness wasn't something was a constant state of being. Sadness, anger, envy, frustration. How could Cinderella live the rest of her life without those?

Even the disappointing endings were slightly bittersweet. What happened to the comic relief at the end of the film? Would he end up with the girl of his dreams or die alone, a drunkard and a failure?

The sad endings were quite possibly the worst, where no hope was to be found. He almost pointedly avoided those films but they were inevitable. For some awful reason, the Oscars preferred tear-jerkers.

He faithfully attended them all at the old movie theatre he called his second home.

It was an obscure place, the perfect first date for those more interested in ambiance than entertainment. It screamed regal 20's motion pictures, with velvety seats (no obnoxious cupholders) and their tall backs. Curtains adorned the sides of the screen, pulled back with golden tassels that would occasionally catch the light of the film projector, glimmering.

The class of the theatre enhanced the viewing experience. Only the classics were played, carefully selected by the hidden old man who owned the deed to the place. Magnus reviewed them for The New York Times, like a historian recalled and retold the stories of Greece, the Crusades, Napoleonic France, and WWII. He didn't want them to become forgotten. The classics inspired the shit movies of the present.

There were regulars and Magnus was just one of many. Mark was a kid too old for his age, and he always had a different date every week. And he always managed to make it past first base in the top row of the seats. Marie and Carl were British immigrants from the late 40's. Their hearing was shot but they still attended, watching the pictures and recalling the words.

Film students would awkwardly attend occasionally and a stray person might stumble upon Saturday Night Classics but it still had routine feel to it.

Until the black haired boy appeared, late to You Can't Take It With You.

The makings of a regular were intense interest with a relax posture, indicated interest and enjoyment.

How one could not be both interested and entertained by You Can't Take It With You was beyond Magnus (it was one of his biased favorites). And the man displayed both.

He was back the next week, this time on time to The Best Years of Our Lives, a lesser favorite of Magnus' but still a heart-warming tale about servicemen coming home from WWII.

The credits rolled a little after midnight and everyone stood and stretched as the brighter, but still dim, lights rose. Magnus stretched out grandly, smiling at Marie and Carl who were hobbling out of the theatre.

Mark and his date had packed up and disappeared about half way through, to everyone's relief. She was far too much of a giggler.

The film students trudged out as Magnus gathered his notes.

"Film student?" the black haired man asked.

"Film critic," Magnus corrected.

"For films that are decades old?"

"They're the only ones worth reviewing," Magnus quipped. The boy made an "ah" face and smiled. "Magnus Bane."

"Alexander Lightwood. Everyone calls me Alec though."

"So I'll call you Alexander then." Alexander's smile got a little brighter. "And why are you here?"

"Just to watch," Alexander said.

"That's half the fun," Magnus said.

"And the other half?"

"Nostalgia," Magnus said.

"Are you doing anything-- I mean tonight."

"It's after midnight," Magnus said. "I was planning on sleeping."

If he had stopped there, there would have been a boring ending. It would be abrupt. Pointless.

"But plans change," Magnus added.

"How do you feel about sushi?" Alexander asked.

Magnus disliked sushi, despite never trying it. It was a preconceived notion without any facts to back it up. But he liked Alexander, a sudden notion with no facts or experience to back his fondness up.

"Great," Magnus said.

.......

"It's amazing," Alexander said, pushing a Christmas roll towards the soy sauce pooled in the corner of his plate. "You can go to the same school for four years and never know everyone."

"There's like 25,000 people there," Magnus said. They'd just found out that they'd both graduated from NYU in same year. Different colleges though.

"Not quite," Alexander said.

"My apologies," Magnus said, holding up his hands.

"Like 24,985," Alexander corrected.

"I was off by 15." Magnus smiled as Alexander shrugged.

"It matters," Alexander nodded. He was incredibly time, maybe looking Magnus in the eyes for five seconds max the entire time they had been out.

Magnus wasn't entirely certain of the purpose of a twenty-four hour sushi bar but it didn't surprise him it existed. Now, at nearly one in the morning, they were one of two groups in the entire restaurant.

As for the sushi itself, it was decent. Would he crave it? No. But did he feel the sudden urge to vomit? No.

They'd spent most of their time talking anyways. The conversation was easy and natural, like they had known each other for years but as strangers there was plenty to talk about.

The waiter dropped by their table, setting down two separate checks.

"It's getting late, I suppose," Alexander said, staring down the checks.

"I should go type up my notes," Magnus agreed.

They sighed in sync, pulling out their wallets and setting cards on top of the bill.

The waiter swooped back in, picking them up and moving on.

Now they were silent.

"We should do this again," Magnus offered.

"Maybe next time before the movie?" Alexander asked. Exhaustion had settled on his pallid face.

"Definitely."

They arranged a time and place for next time.

.........

"No! Finding Nemo is a far better movie than Toy Story," Magnus insisted. "There's actual character development--"

"You just admitted you just liked it for Robbie Williams singing 'Somewhere Beyond on the Sea,'" Alexander said, scrunching up his face in a most adorable manner, almost like he was apologizing for Magnus' slip up in words.

"That was before you said Toy Story was better. TOY STORY! I don't know how I even managed to stay awake during that movie," Magnus said.

"Because it's heartwarming--"

"Heartwarming! They're toys--"

"It's coming of age--"

"It's the bane of cinema--"

"Did you just--"

"Possibly," Magnus said, settling back in the cafe booth. Alexander rolled his eyes.

Magnus was infatuated.

It had been a month since the night of sushi. Now Alexander watched the movies beside him, stealing glances at his notes while he wrote, and occasionally brushing his leg. And whether Alexander's flirtation was intentional or not it was possessing Alexander's mind.

"We've got five minutes till fifteen minutes before the show," Alexander said, checking his wrist watch.

Magnus sighed. The theater meant no talking. And after the show was over they'd go their separate ways.

"Let's not go," Magnus proposed.

"What-- but you--"

"I'll just rent Casablanca. Or I'll buy it. Doesn't matter. I'll make you dinner," Magnus said.

"You can cook?" Alexander asked, rudely skeptical.

"I can make two things. Lemon pound cake--" Alexander made a noise of derision, "--and stir fry. And I just bought the stuff to make that." His suspiciousness had grown. "You can't turn me down."

"No, I really can't because you're ditching working so obviously you're serious," Alexander said.

"Excellent."

The taxi stopped outside Magnus' apartment and Alexander insisted he pay the fare.

Magnus didn't argue because they were always good about splitting the bill. After all, it was a friendship, not a relationship.

They climbed the stairs, Alexander following Magnus up the couple of flights of stairs.

As Magnus unlocked the door, Alexander was struggling to catch his breath.

"Workout much?" Magnus asked.

"No," Alexander breathed.

"Those stairs used to kill me too," Magnus said, ushering him inside. His apartment was a modest space, more like an industrial loft than anything with high, cross-beam ceilings and an open concept.

"Can I get you anything?" Magnus offered, tossing his leather jacket onto a coatrack.

"Some water would be fine," Alexander said. Magnus busied himself with that as Alexander showed himself around. Eventually he sat down at the counter and Magnus slid him a cutting board, knife, and pile of vegetables.

Magnus stood on the other side of the counter, with the meat instead of the vegetables.

Sitting next to Alexander would make it harder to see his face. And Magnus was in love with the way his face was so intensely sharp with corners rather than curves. He liked the black of his hair and blue of his eyes against the white of his skin.

The conversation resumed, this time about the White Socks versus the Red ones, something Alexander cared about while Magnus didn't. But he still inserted his two cents that he much preferred red socks to white ones.

That made Alexander laugh, and his laugh made Magnus laugh.

And Magnus decided he was in love.

"Good Will Hunting or Titanic, Magnus?" Alexander was asking, obviously for the second or third time according to his tone.

"Good Will Hunting of course," Magnus said. "I'm a film critic. I'm not allowed to like Titanic."

"That's not true."

"Kinda is," Magnus said. "If I insisted that Titanic, which lacks any super amazing plot line, is better than a movie with actual plot and actually good acting, then I've failed."

"Mm," Alexander hummed. "I'd disagree but. . ." He trailed off with that thought. "I still can't believe you are ditching Saturday Night Classics for stir fry with me."

"There's no one else I'd ditch for so you'd better feel special," Magnus said, waving his knife around. "Are you done?"

Alexander nodded, sliding the cutting board back towards Magnus.

Magnus started heating the oil in the pan, eventually tossing everything in with a ton of soy and teriyaki sauce.

Alexander moved around into the kitchen, sitting on the counter while watching Magnus mixing everything together.

"So where'd you learn how to do this?" Alexander asked.

"My mother," Magnus said, hoping to end the conversation there. Alexander caught on. The sound of hissing oil and frying meat became too loud to talk over.

When everything was perfectly well-done, Magnus dumped it on two plates, hopping onto the counter beside Alexander. They crossed their legs and faced each other.

"Sorry there's no rice," Magnus apologized.

"I can't even boil water so this is excellent," Alexander said with a mouthful of food.

"We're pretty bad adults," Magnus said.

"Well you skipped work--"

"Okay. I just decided to put off my work until, like, tomorrow," Magnus insisted. "I'm fine."

A part of him was worried it might not get done. But the other half of him was just ecstatic that Alexander was here. In his house. On his counter. Sitting across from him. Eating his food.

They spent the rest of the meal in comfortable silence until Alexander finally set his plate aside.

"So where's the lemon pound cake--?"

Magnus leaned forward, half-eaten plate still in his lap, putting a hand on Alexander's face.

Alexander's eyes went unreadable. Magnus was looking for some sign of panic or confusion and got none.

There was nothing.

The blue wasn't lifeless but it wasn't vibrant.

It wasn't indifferent but it wasn't caring.

Alexander crossed the rest of the difference, kissing Magnus with a great degree of awkwardness.

But kissing was as simple as breathing because it was supposed to be natural, a tug of war between you and them where both sides were winning.

Alexander sat back suddenly, breathing just heavy as he had when he came up the stairs.

"I can't breathe," Alexander gasped.

"I'm sorry--"

"No, Magnus, I can't breathe--"

"Are you choking?" Magnus untucked his legs, sliding off the counter. Alexander turned so his legs were dangling over the side. His hands were fumbling for something.

"No, no," Alexander said. His breaths were unnaturally shallow.

"Are you having a heart attack?" Magnus was the only one panicking.

"Phone," Alexander gasped. "Call Izzy."

He got off the counter and Magnus grabbed his phone from where it must have fallen out of his pocket onto the counter.

"You need to sit down," Magnus said, helping over to the couch where Alexander bent over, his head tucked between his knees. Magnus knelt in front of him, scrolling through Alexander's contacts before he found the Izzy.

He dialled and she picked up after two rings.

"What's up, idiot?"

"Um, hi-- I'm--"

"Who is this?"

"I'm with Alexander--"

"Alec? Is he okay?"

"No, he's-- he's not breathing right," Magnus said, putting a hand on Alexander's shoulder. Alexander lifted his head.

"Where are you at?" Izzy demanded.

"Should I be calling an ambulance?" Magnus asked.

"No," Izzy and Alexander said in sync.

"Where are you at?" she asked again.

Magnus rattled off his address.

"Give him coffee," she said. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"That's it?" Magnus asked.

"It's a natural bronchodilator. Brew it strong and toss a couple ice cubes in there and have him drink it. No cream, no sugar, no matter what he insists," Izzy said. Then she hung up.

Magnus wanted to demand an explanation and had this been someone other than Alexander, who had become his focus for the last month, he might have. Instead, he left Alexander's side and started a very, very strong pot of coffee, and tossed a few ice cubes in the mug.

Five minutes later, he was holding it in front of Alexander.

"I can't," Alexander gasped.

"You have to try," Magnus insisted. Alexander took the cup, taking a sip and wincing.

"Too strong."

"It'll put hair on your chest," Magnus said. "That's what my dad always told me."

The door to Magnus' apartment flew open just then.

"Apparently," the girl said, "your place is closer than I thought."

"You must be Izzy."

"Isabelle, but yes," she said, dropping to her knees in front of Alexander. "You idiot."

"Thank-- you--" he wheezed. She was holding some sort of contraption and opened it up, hooking a series of plastic tubing together and adding some sort of liquid to a chamber in the middle. She attached a mask last, and put it to Alexander's face as she flipped the switch. The machine started roaring and Alexander's shallow breaths became barely audible.

Isabelle's hand was on his shoulder the entire time, and occasionally her other hand would hold the mask up to his face, when his hands slipped.

Isabelle. She looked too much like him for them to be coincidentally dating. Magnus hoped they were siblings.

"And you are?" Isabelle asked, turning around. She looked furious, her eyes such a counter to Alexander's soft ones.

"Magnus Bane," Magnus stuttered. She was unusually intimidating.

"Well, I don't know what you and my brother were doing but you almost killed him. So excellent job."

"Iz," Alexander muttered from underneath the mask. He sat back, his eyes half-closed. Isabelle rose, sitting beside him on the couch.

"You're doing fine," she reassured him. Alexander pulled the mask away from his face.

"Don't yell at him. He didn't know," Alexander said. Isabelle forced the mask back up.

"I'm sorry but what don't I know?" Magnus asked.

Isabelle looked back at Magnus, apologizing with a sorrow smile.

"He's got cancer."

........

Alexander sat back in the couch, trying to avoid Magnus' eyes.

Where Isabelle was upfront and honest, he tried to hide the things that would only bring him pity. He was delusional to think he could have a fairy tale ending with Magnus. But he was only just finally learning that now.

"Cancer," Magnus mumbled.

Alexander knew his thought process, disbelief, shock, then denial, followed by bargaining.

"Oh," was all he ended up saying though.

Alexander pulled the mask of the nebuliser away from his face. The dosage was up and the misty air had turned into the regular stuff.

Isabelle didn't protest this time.

"Magnus, I'm sorry," he said.

"It's not your fault," Magnus said. "Alexander, none of this is your fault."

"This is all incredibly heart-warming," Isabelle chimed in. "But Alec's been an idiot and I'm taking him home."

"Isabelle, please," Alexander begged. "Give us a moment."

"I'll be outside," Isabelle said, snatching the nebuliser up and disappearing out the door.

........

Alexander finally looked him in the eyes, apologizing yet again.

"I'm just mad you didn't tell me," Magnus confessed. "I know we've really on just met but I still expected you to be able to be more honest with me."

"It's not something that's easily slipped into conversation."

"What type?" Magnus asked.

"Acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Very boring, I'm afraid."

"Don't joke," Magnus sighed.

"I had it when I was a kid. The second time around is a little worse," Alexander said.

"You're--"

"--dying, yes," Alexander said. "I have been for the last three months and I'll probably be dying for another three months."

They were both silent. Magnus felt like he couldn't cry or move.

"I know you need to process--"

"Process?" Magnus asked, incredulous. "I need to more than just process. You're dying."

"Thank you," Alexander said, shocked at his bluntness.

Magnus put his head in his hands.

"I'm going to go," Alexander said, standing up. Magnus watched him leave, the door slamming shut behind him.

Magnus' breathing became shaky.

Dying.

There was no happy ending now.

........

Magnus wrote a scathing review of Casablanca, while thoroughly enjoying a bottle of wine.

........

Alexander was absent at Saturday Night Classics, which was coincidentally showing Titanic.

After the movie, Magnus pulled out his dusty phone book, which had been rotting beneath the kitchen sink and found Alexander Lightwood. He was one of two and the first number had been disconnected. Alexander answered.

"Magnus," he sighed.

"Either you're very good at guessing or you have caller ID," Magnus said, falling back onto his couch.

"Both," Alexander said. "I read your review."

"Slightly biased," Magnus said.

"Biased by what?"

"Wine," Magnus admitted.

"Have you spent the entire week drinking?"

"I had to sleep as well."

"Don't do that to yourself," Alexander said, his voice suddenly alert. "Not over me. Magnus, please."

"It's not fair," Magnus said. He was going to cry.

"Of course it's not fair. Life isn't a movie."

Magnus squeezed his eyes together, trying to stop the tears. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't--

"Go to sleep, Magnus."

The phone line went dead.

"They played Titanic," Magnus whispered, as if Alexander was still there. "I liked it this time."

.........

Magnus wrote a very nice review of the Titanic, this time sober. His editor bothered to call him, asking if he was sick.

He wasn't.

........

Magnus had been staring at his phone for the last hour, contemplating calling Alexander.

But he had a better idea. He put on a jacket and left his apartment, an address put in Google Maps.

He followed the walking instructions through Brooklyn until he found himself in Manhattan in front of a massive tower of apartments.

There were two Lightwoods listed outside.

Magnus buzzed the first one.

"What do you want?" Isabelle's voice hissed. Magnus looked for a camera but couldn't find one.

"Wrong apartment, my apologies," Magnus said, using a falsetto.

The buzzer clicked off and Magnus pressed the second one.

It took longer for a response but he heard Alexander's voice.

"Hello?"

Magnus put a hand against the wall, leaning against it.

"Hello?" Alexander repeated.

"To start, I wrote far too nice a review of Titanic."

"Ma-- I know. I read it," Alexander said.

"Which is insane for multiple reasons but the first one being I absolutely abhor Titanic and everything it stands for."

"You're overexaggerating."

"I'm not," Magnus said. "And the fact that I wouldn't have been so nice in my review if I hadn't been thinking about you the entire time."

"Magnus," Alexander sighed.

"Please let me up. I have to see you," Magnus begged.

The speaker was silent for far too long.

"You have no idea how desperate you sound."

The door started buzzing and Magnus dived for the handle, pulling it open.

He was faced with a bored looking doorman reading a car magazine behind a desk. Magnus slipped by him towards a series of elevator, punching the up button on all of them.

The doors to one finally slid open and he jumped inside, stabbing the closed button and the seventeenth floor button.

Nervous energy was building inside Magnus. He sighed as the doors finally slid open.

On the sixteenth floor. Isabelle was standing there, arms crossed. She stuck her foot in the door. Magnus took a step back into the elevator to get away from her.

"You waited an entire week to call my brother. Which is impressive," she said.

"How did you know--"

"Your fake voice was unconvincing," she said.

"How many elevators did you stand in front of?"

"That's irrelevant," Isabelle said. "If you hurt my brother, or ruin any of the time he has left on this horrible earth, I will find you, Magnus, and I will kill you."

She took her foot away from the door and they slid shut. The elevator lurched back upwards.

When the doors opened a second time, Alexander was standing there, his hands behind his back.

"I should have called," Alexander admitted.

"You didn't have my number," Magnus defended.

"You found mine," Alexander pointed out.

"Well. . ."

Alexander put a hand out to Magnus.

"I'm sorry," he said. Magnus stepped out of the elevator, taking his hand. Alexander pulled him close. "I'm so sorry."

"Alexander," Magnus said, hugging him as tight as he could. He buried his face in Alexander's neck. "I want you. For however much time we have left."

"Three months," Alexander whispered. "It was a lot less scarier before you showed up."

Alexander took a step back, taking Magnus' face in his hands. Magnus was unashamedly crying.

"I don't like this," Alexander said. "We can't do this." Alexander wiped the tears away from Magnus' eyes with a careful thumb.

"Okay."

"I wasn't expecting guests," Alexander said. "I look awful."

"No you don't," Magnus said. He was in pajamas but even still he was amazing in Magnus' eyes.

"Now you're just lying," Alexander smiled.

"Are you going to lose your breath everytime I kiss you?"

"No. . ."

"Excellent."

Magnus pressed his lips against Alexander, taking his breath away.

Alexander staggered back a little bit against Magnus' eagerness.

Alexander's hand found the door to his apartment and pushed it open.

He pulled Magnus by the collar of his jacket inside. Magnus kicked the door shut behind them and was instantly pressed against the wall. Alexander was at his neck, all lips and mostly teeth.

"Alexander--"

"Look at me," Alexander demanded. Magnus opened his eyes. "This-- this is what I want for the next three months. I want you."

.........

One month later. . .

For once, Magnus was up before Alexander and somehow Isabelle Lightwood knew that.

She was knocking at the apartment door and Magnus answered.

"Hi?"

"Hey. Can I make you coffee?" she asked, the friendliest thing she'd ever said to him.

"Where?" Magnus asked.

"My apartment," Isabelle said. "Twenty minutes tops."

Magnus looked back into the massive space. He could see Alexander still sleeping soundly at the far end of the apartment.

"Yeah," Magnus sighed.

He followed her back to the elevators.

"What would you have done if he had answered?" Magnus asked.

"I knew he wouldn't," Isabelle said, slightly less cordial than she had been when he'd answered the door. "The medication he's on makes him drowsier than usual. The other half was hoping you'd actually be out of bed."

"You keep better track of him than I do," Magnus admitted as the doors opened.

"I have to," Isabelle said. "He's got no one else, a fact I don't think you've picked up on in the last month."

"Isa--" She opened the door to her apartment.

"I don't know what you think the next two months are going to bring. It's not going to be romantic, it's not going to be pretty."

Her apartment looked just like Alexander's in layout but incredibly different in decor. It was scarlet and black all over. Clothes covered almost every piece of furniture, while Alexander's apartment was spic and span.

Magnus found a barstool and sat there as Isabelle started brewing coffee.

"He'll probably end up in the hospital in about a month," she continued. "And I don't want you to bail when you see the reality. It's not just a dozen pills every day. He's--" Her voice broke along with Magnus' heart, "--he's not going to--" Magnus jumped to his feet, moving to Isabelle. He put his arms around her.

"I know," Magnus whispered, "I know, Isabelle. I'm so sorry."

"I've tried so hard to take care of him, Magnus." Her voice was resolute again but her tiny arms were still around him. "I just hate that it's all been in vain. I can't stop the end."

"I'm not going to leave him," Magnus promised. "And neither are you. We'll be with him until the end."

The door creaked open and Isabelle stepped away from Magnus, rounding the corner to the front door.

"Alec?"

"Is Magnus here?" Alexander appeared around the corner. He smiled when he saw Magnus leaning against the counter.

"Whatcha doing?" Alexander asked.

"We were out of coffee," Magnus said, which was true. Magnus had to go grocery shopping today, something Alexander didn't enjoy.

"Want some?" Isabelle offered. She was a much better actor than Magnus.

Alexander frowned as Isabelle turned his back. He shook his head, as if disgusted by finding Magnus in his sister's apartment.

"I'll take mine to go," Magnus spoke up.

"Cream or sugar?" Isabelle asked.

"Just black please," Magnus said.

Isabelle sent him on his way with a mug of coffee.

Alexander managed to keep his anger pent up until they were within his apartment.

"I don't like being gossiped about," Alexander fumed.

"Alexander--" Magnus sighed, setting the coffee on their own counter.

"What were you discussing? How pale I'll get before I die? How many times a day I'll throw up? How about bets on when I'll actually die--?"

"Alexander!" Magnus shouted. "Stop."

Alexander threw the mug to the ground. Coffee floated porcelain shards.

"Hey!" Magnus said, grabbing Alexander's hands. "Stop."

"What did she want?" Alexander cried.

"She wanted to make sure I wouldn't leave you!"

"She-- Magnus."

Magnus squeezed Alexander's hands.

"I'm sorry," Alexander said robotically. His eyes had glazed over.

"It's okay," Magnus said, pulling him close. "I'm not going anywhere."

.........

The last time they went to the movies together was a showing of Midnight Cowboys, which on second thought, was not Magnus' most tasteful date idea.

Magnus was crying at the end as Joe has his arm around his best friend, now dead. Alexander was asleep, with his head on Magnus' arm.

"Mr. Bane," Marie said, her accent echoing in the otherwise empty theatre. The lights were just brightening, "they always go to a better place in the end. You shouldn't cry over new beginnings."

Her husband looked at her dotingly. Together they walked out, hand in hand.

Magnus realized once again that he would enter hell when Alexander reached his end.

He wiped his eyes, and stared down at Alexander, still asleep. Sleeping was what he did a lot of those days.

"Dear," Magnus whispered, putting his right hand on Alexander's cheek. He felt colder than usual. "Alexander--!"

He opened his eyes as Magnus' panic grew.

"I fell asleep," Alexander said, stretching out. He didn't see the fear on Magnus' face.

"Are you cold?" Magnus asked.

"A little," Alexander said, looking back with a lite slight.

Magnus smiled back, shrugging his leather jacket off and putting it over Alexander's shoulders.

"Let's get out of here," Magnus said.

"I love you, you know," Alexander said, as he stood up.

"I love you too," Magnus said. He stepped up to Alexander, kissing him in the theater as a projector casted the credits over the tops of their heads.

........

That was coincidentally, the night Alexander got horribly bad.

Magnus hadn't been sleeping well, a ticking time bomb counting down in his head at all hours of the night.

But he had finally made it to sleep when Alexander shook his shoulder.

"I'm not feeling well," Alexander said, his voice hollow.

"I'm calling Isabelle," Magnus said, sitting up immediately. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins.

"Not yet. It'll pass," Alexander assured him.

"I'm not taking chance," Magnus said, pressing a kiss to Alexander's forehead, just to check his temperature. He was freezing.

Magnus picked his phone up, dialling Isabelle's number as he found another blanket and tossed it top of Alexander, who shot him a bitter look but wrapped the quilt tighter around himself.

Isabelle picked up eventually.

"Magnus--"

"Will you come up? It's not an emergency."

"Yet," she sighed, hanging up the phone.

Magnus set his phone aside, sitting beside Alexander.

"Are you scared?" Magnus asked, the first time he'd ever actually asked Alexander that. A knot was forming at the back of his own throat.

"I think I'm done fighting," Alexander said.

"You've been strong," Magnus said, putting his hand over Alexander's. Isabelle opened the front door coming in.

"What's up?" she asked, as if she were asking about their day or the weather.

"It hurts to breathe," Alexander said, just as chalantly.

"How bad?"

"Pretty bad."

"Like we-can't-fix-it bad?"

"That bad," Alexander said. Magnus knew the words hurt to say. Admitting defeat didn't seem like something Alexander Lightwood did on a regular basis. But, he looked so stoic laying there, hiding his pain from all of them.

"You know better than I do," she confessed.

"I'm sorry, Iz--"

"Don't apologize to me, Alexander," she hissed. She snapped back to being his nurse. "Let's go. Magnus, will you pack some stuff?"

"Of course," Magnus said. He didn't have the right to demand to be by Alexander's side every step of the way. He had to do his part. He had to make this easy for everyone because he was the one who stepped in and made it a little bit harder for Alexander to go.

He helped Isabelle get Alexander to her car. In the dimly lit elevator, Magnus could see an aura of death surrounding Alexander in every breath and step he took.

Magnus promised to meet them at the hospital within the hour and Alexander watched him with sad eyes as Isabelle sped off.

Magnus stumbled back into the apartment complex. The same doorman from Day 1 sat at the counter, finally paying attention.

"He ain't comin' back, is he?" the doorman asked.

"I don't know," Magnus shuddered. The doorman jumped to his feet and in a twist of events, held Magnus as he sobbed in the arms of a stranger.

"It's not fair," Magnus cried. "He's too good."

"I lost my mother to it. I know what it looks like. He fought the good fight," the doorman said. "But you're gonna have plenty of time later to be doin' this. You need to get back to him."

Magnus stepped back.

"I'm sorry."

"Funny thing about apologies is no one ever really means 'em." The doorman stepped back behind the desk, resuming his magazine like Magnus had just been a ghost in the night.

He felt like one.

.......

"Alexander Lightwood," Magnus told the nurse. She clacked away at her keyboard.

"And you are?"

"Magnus Bane."

"So, not relation?"

Magnus froze.

Isabelle was sprinting down the hall though.

"Oh my gosh, babe," she said, throwing herself into Magnus' arms. "Thank goodness you're here." She put a kiss on Magnus' cheek before shooting a scathing look at the nurse. "Is there a problem?" She was still clinging to Magnus.

"Who is Mr. Bane to Mr. Lightwood?"

"He's my husband," Isabelle said, as if it were obvious.

"Then why is his last name--"

"I'm not going to discuss the terms of my marriage with you," Isabelle hissed. "Not while my brother is dying. Excuse us."

She took Magnus by the hand, leading him down the hall.

"That went relatively well," she said as they rounded the corner. She dropped his hand.

"Alexander--"

"--isn't doing well," Isabelle said. "Why don't you call him Alec?"

"I just never did so I'm not going to start now," Magnus said. Isabelle stopped outside an observation window. Magnus could barely see Alexander in a bed, surrounded by doctors.

"They're considering operating to remove some fluid from his lungs," Isabelle informed him. "Alec's pissed because he doesn't want it. He says if I sign the papers he'll never forgive me."

"If they do the surgery, then what? He gets another week? Month?"

"Apparently with the state he's in, it's no more than two weeks tops," Isabelle said. "For the longest time, there was always something we could do, you know? And now there's nothing."

"The surgery isn't worth it," Magnus decided, turning away from the window. He leaned against it instead. Isabelle looked at him like he was given Alexander his death sentence.

"I know that," she said. "I know that."

"Isabelle, you've done everything you can," Magnus said. He took her hand, this time for real, mustering all the love and strength he could into his palm. "But it's up to him now."

"He's given up though." She sounded like a child now, whining.

The door opened suddenly, making them both jump. The doctors streamed out.

"Your brother has elected not to do the surgery, against our advice," one of them said. He carried himself like he was in charge. "He understands the risks. At this point in time, all we can do is make him comfortable."

"Okay," Magnus said, speaking the word for Isabelle.

"If you need anything at all--"

"Excuse me." Isabelle let go of Magnus, walking down the hallway, away from them.

The doctors moved away together, leaving Magnus with Alexander, only separated by a door.

Magnus opened it, stepping into the room.

Alexander's eyes were closed, though Magnus doubted he could have fallen asleep so quickly.

"Dear?" Magnus spoke.

Alexander's eyes opened. Magnus dropped the backpack of stuff he had on the floor beside a chair and sat beside Alexander on the bed.

"Hi," Magnus said.

"Hey."

"Remember The Best Years of Our Lives?"

"I didn't like it," Alexander said.

"I preferred the credits," Magnus said.

"We first spoke during the credits. . ."

"Exactly," Magnus said, his eyes shining.

"Where's Isabelle?"

"She took a walk," Magnus said.

"Can you go find her please?" Alexander asked.

"Of course," Magnus said, though he wasn't particularly fond of the idea of leaving him alone.

"Magnus," Alexander called as he left his side. "Kiss?"

Magnus didn't hesitate, kissing Alexander softly.

"Don't be so gentle," Alexander mumbled against his lips. Magnus pressed a little harder, as if he could just inhale the essence of Alexander, trapping him forever. "Come back soon."

"Okay," Magnus said, smiling.

He left the room, searching for Isabelle. No one at the nurses' desk had seen her and he had to have been gone for over ten minutes when he found her sitting in front of the hospital, taking a long drag from a cigarette.

"Your brother has cancer, and you're smoking a cigarette?" Magnus asked.

"Screw you, Bane," she said, choked up with smoke and tears.

"Oh, please, Isabelle. This is so horribly cliche," Magnus said. "And I've seen cliche."

"You are cliche," Isabelle snapped.

"He needs you," Magnus said.

"He's needed me all his life. I need a moment," she said, taking another drag like it were a sip of water.

"It doesn't work like that," Magnus said.

She dropped the half-smoked cigarette on the ground, grinding it down to ashes and slowly-dying coals.

"Okay," she said.

"Like nicotine and chemicals will fix this," Magnus grumped.

"It calms me," she said.

"Does he know?"

"Of course not," Isabelle said. She smiled. "He'd kill me before any sort of cancer could."

Magnus threw an arm around her as they entered the hospital again. They navigated the halls back to Alexander's room where alarms were screaming along side nurses, the machines panicked while the nurses seemed calm.

"No, no, no," Magnus said, falling away from Isabelle.

This wasn't happening like this.

This wasn't happening while they were gone.

Someone was holding Magnus' back from the doorway. He fought and struggled and saw nothing.

"No, Alec, Alec," Magnus whispered. "Please, please. He's okay. He's still fine."

"Sir--"

He wanted to die. He wanted to become nothingness. He didn't want to exist.

All he knew was Alexander Lightwood was gone because there was a massive hole in his chest where his heart had once resided.