Flynn took Eve’s hand and twirled her around. “Are you ready for the best Valentine’s Day ever?” Eve laughed. He loved the way her smile lit up her whole face.
“Please tell me we aren’t spending the eveningvanquishing evil,” Eve teased, rubbing at her back. “I’ve still got bruises
from last time.”
Flynn straightened up. “I’ll have you know I can plan a
perfectly normal date, emphasis on perfect.”
He crooked his arm, smiling when she put her arm through his. “No
peeking till we get through the door.”
Eve sighed and closed her eyes as Flynn spun the globe. Tonight was
going to be perfect. No interruptions,
no craziness, no earth shattering crisis. A moment later they stepped onto the
streets of Paris.
Day gave way to night in the month of December in the way the moon gave way to the sun - natural as the dying of wind and the falling of snow. It was five fifteen, winter twilight, and rain was falling steadily in sheets between Alec and the door before him.
A small sign with gilded calligraphy hung under the doorbell - Bane, it said with the cursive lilt of the jocular warlock. Alec could still remember the very first time he had stood in front of this same door, when there had been not much rain, when he had been very much alone. He had wondered then why he was brave enough to go there, albeit secretly, even when duty and honour said otherwise and his father had hung like a dark cloud upon his head. He was, however, glad that he did. Perhaps fate had not been too cruel, come to think of it, to have introduced him to his great love so young, and promised him a future ahead with his love by his side.
But fate had never been known for its kindness, and Alec couldn’t be sure just how many days he had left in that future.
The raven-hair boy sighed and turned around, staring at the yellow glow of the streetlamp, and thought of how very much was he like the moths clouding the light.
He had once been pulled in by a golden light, luminous as the sun and crowned as taboo, being parabatai, being brothers and being men. But he had survived the fire, and had earned himself another light, a much brighter one, brimming with glitter and colours and surprises. But this time, this time, he had learned his lesson, this time, his wings were fire-proof, and this time, the fire returned his affections.
This time, the fire was warm and not scalding hot, this time, the fire was touchable, this time, the fire could be his and his alone. And this was a fire that had dimmed itself to offer him comfort, this was a fire that had humbled itself to offer him security, this was a fire that had given up everything it could to offer him sanctuary.
People said moths were silly things, to have fallen in love with something that could kill you, but what they did not consider was that that something just might love the silly things back.
So perhaps, just perhaps, being a moth so attracted to a fire wasn’t such a bad thing, perhaps being himself was alright.
The door creaked open behind him, but Alec did not turn around. He did not turn as a pair of tanned arms wrapped a blanket around him; he did not turn as someone rested his chin upon his head and stood with him, watching the light, unquestioning and accepting; he did not turn when that someone could no longer tolerate the rain that was making his shadowhunter cold and started pulling him towards the house; but he did turn, and smiled, when they finally reached the bed and the man named “Bane” pulled him down for a kiss.
Perhaps home was simply a pair of arms around you at your worst times.
Perhaps Alec had finally found his home.
And perhaps that, was all he needed.
To Ma potato-vagina I hope you find a sanctuary as Alec found his home