'i'm going to have to start writing alec being scrunched up next to magnus' - tell us more about how magnus' bed isn't quite big enough for them
the first time magnus really noticed it, it was a tuesday afternoon and he’d just stepped through a portal back into the loft after a meeting negotiating the sale of an old book of spells with a couple of warlocks. the meeting had gone on far longer than he had anticipated and time had seemed to be something like a leaky faucet, dripping too slowly and making magnus want to crawl out of his skin.
he was out now though, the loft greeting him bright and cheery with bright sunlight spilling through the curtains as he scrolled through his phone. he had about an hour until his next client and he wanted to change into something a bit more comfortable. it wasn’t necessary but at the moment he didn’t feel like summoning anything in a 3 piece suit, something lighter seemed more appropriate.
or at least that’s what he had been thinking until he came to an abrupt halt in the doorway to the bedroom, caught in streaming sunlight because of the sight laid out before him. there on top of his deep burgundy sheets, alec was a splash of black clothes and runed skin, all curled up in on himself on one side of the bed. the first thing magnus noticed was that his t-shirt had ridden up, exposing his stomach and all of the dark hair that spilled down his torso and disappeared into his pants.
"If this was us meeting for the first time, I'd do it all again. Everything. The fucks, the fuck ups, everything." (Dealer's choice on the who)
Yuri should have expected that seeing him again would be painful.
It had been five years since Otabek had thrown him the motorcycle helmet, five years since they had begun a budding friendship and Yuri had developed an awkward and embarrassing crush. Three years since they had confessed their feelings to one another. Two years since they had really started dating.
One year since they had broken up.
The breakup had been awful, Yuri red faced and sobbing while Otabek had packed, seemingly deaf to Yuri’s desperate pleas. It had been over something stupid, something small, but the tension of the skating season had gotten to both of them and Otabek had decided he needed to move out.
“Beka, you can’t go,” Yuri had sobbed, “Please don’t leave me.”
Otabek had remained nearly silent, but Yuri knew him well enough to tell that he was close to crying himself.
“This isn’t working, Yura,” he had told him, “We need a break. It’s hurting our careers and you know it.”
“I don’t give a fuck about skating right now!” Yuri then cried, “I need you Beka, please.”
Otabek had left anyway.
A year had passed. They had talked a little, on the phone and via Skype and social media. Their friends had pushed for them both to try and get back together, but Yuri was too stubborn to bend first. He figured Otabek felt the same. They never really made up and Yuri’s life seemed to drain of color.
Without him, skating is just a job. I don’t feel passion anymore, not like I used to.
Now sitting at the Grand Prix Finals in current first place, he swallowed as he watched Otabek take the ice. He hadn’t seen him since their breakup and Yuri marveled at his beauty.
God, he looks good. Fuck, I miss him so much.
Heart burning with longing, Yuri found a shadowed corner where he could watch the program. The music started and Yuri’s jaw dropped as the familiar words echoed over the ice.
It was a gentle song. Their song. Otabek skated on the ice as if he was desperately trying to convey a message to Yuri.
Are you watching? His movements seemed to say, Do you see me, Yura?
Yuri’s eyes filled with tears as he watched Otabek go into a graceful step sequence. His normally stoic expression was emotional, each movement stretching his endurance.
Yura, are you watching?
Yuri might not be the best at emotions, but he knew an apology when he saw one.
He watched as Otabek launched into a jump, a quad salchow, Yuri’s favorite. The song began to trail off to the ending and Yuri suddenly found himself racing to the edge of the rink. Otabek twisted into his final position, eyes locking with Yuri’s as he held his hands over his head.
Yuri’s heart pounded while the crowd cheered for Otabek. He walked to the gate, swallowing emotions that were pounding through his heart.
I see you. I see you, Beka.
Otabek skated towards the gate, the sound of the rink drowning out in Yuri’s ears. Otabek was mere inches from him now, looking down at him with a piercing gaze.
Yuri knew that look.
“I love you,” Yuri said breathlessly, as if answering an unspoken question.
Otabek’s face relaxed into a gentle smile, one he saved only for Yuri.
“I love you too, Yura. I’m so sorry. I never should have left you,” he murmured, stepping towards the kiss and cry where his coach was waiting, turning his back to Yuri.
“Then don’t leave me again,” Yuri said fiercely, not caring who could hear, “If this was us meeting for the first time, I’d do it all again. Everything. The fucks, the fuck ups, everything. Christ, Beka, I love you!”
Otabek turned around to face him, completely missing as his scores were announced. It didn’t matter that cameras were on them, it didn’t matter that Otabek’s coach was looking furious. All that mattered now was them, together.
“I won’t,” Otabek whispered, stepping closer and cupping the side of Yuri’s face, “I never could resist you. This year’s been hell.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Yuri murmured without malice, kissing Otabek’s hand. He knew they’d have a lot to talk about, a lot to sort through, a lot to forgive.
Put on your Eliza Doolittle hats, I’m about to teach you some Zaynglish.
To really grasp Zaynglish, to really become one with Zehn, you must master the art of knowing when to throw down some random “h”’s. The “h” is your Major Key™. Just throw that shit down like a vowel and don’t even worry about it:
“Ahm in ah coohl bohybend”
“Muh mum bought meh deese boxehs”
Sometimes you’ll need to make the judgement call to use “u” instead of “a” or “o”. You’ll know what to do. Just put on some serums, listen to some Drake, find yourself some cat memes, and don’t overthink it: