Piano Days and Other Malec One-Shots

Day 2

"Into the Future" Day

Maxwell Joseph Lightwood II

Max had a problem with wandering.

Both physically and mentally. Usually both at once and tonight was no exception.

His mom liked to tell him that it started when he first started crawling. He'd get lost in the Institute and be found hours later, asleep under a table or something.

Then again, she liked to tell stories. He liked to listen to them, especially the ones where she was saving the world alongside his uncles and Aunt Clary. She had a tendency to over-tell the stories about his dad though, so they were less interesting and overly romantic.

When Max came back to reality after an immeasurable amount of time trapped in his brain, he was on a subway to Brooklyn. Which was odd, considering he was a born-and-raised Manhattan kid.

He was escaping his life in Manhattan though. That much he had decided.

Fleeing to Brooklyn was like going to another world with thicker accents and more hipster chic.

That was basically Uncle Magnus, Max thought.

When he asked where Uncle Magnus was from, he got a 800 year history. It was incredibly boring and he lost track. He had an international accent, a blend of European bulkiness, American twang, and Asian speed. He probably spoke a thousand languages, including the demonic ones. That fascinated Max.

He wanted that for himself. He wanted the suaveness and sophistication of the great Magnus Bane.

But at the moment, he couldn't even handle being a teenager.

Max's secret life had driven into a brick wall tonight, and he'd survived with his body but not with his heart.

So at the moment, he only had one place to crash for the night.

Going home would mean facing his mother's questions about how his orchestra practice went and why he wasn't spending the night at Levi's and "why didn't you call ahead, young man?!"

She didn't know that orchestra was only one night a week, Wednesdays, not two. Fridays were Max's weekly lie to his parents. He went to whatever party he could get himself invited to, then spent the night at Levi's.

It wasn't his parents' fault. They weren't neglecting him. But it was hard to keep up with three kids as it was and a mundane orchestra wasn't their. . . priority.

But they didn't know a Shadowhunter who could play cello so they had to do some outsourcing.

His nights out in the city made him feel normal.

The Nephilim lifestyle wasn't bad. It just didn't manage to cover all of his interests.

He wanted to know the mundane world. He wanted to be able to say, "Yeah, I've tried it and I like being a Shadowhunter better." His father got that chance. Aunt Clary got that chance.

He wanted it for himself. He wanted their knowledge. He wanted normalcy.

Only, tonight wasn't normal.

Tonight had been chaotic from start to finish.

The subway came screeching to a stop and Max exited. He'd have some walking to do, but he'd make it to his uncles' townhouse before midnight.

Rain was coming down outside but there was an umbrella in Max's messenger bag. It unfolded itself, stretching over Max's head, as they ascended the subway stairs.

Levi was the source of all of his problems.

Levi was the face on his mind as he kicked an empty soda can along the sidewalk.