Fading Scars: A Series of Malec One Shots

Chronicles of a Fallen Love

Magnus had seen Alexander Lightwood exactly three times before they were actually formally introduced to each other.

The first time was outside Pandemonium. It was a busy night, that night. Magnus remembered very clearly being reported that there was a brawl just outside the main entrance and went to deal with it himself. Having a club mixed with Downworlders and mundanes wasn't always a pretty sight but he kept a good handle on things for the most part.

He thought for sure the Clave had come for him when he noticed a tall young man watching the building from across the street. Magnus knew immediately that it was a Shadowhunter. The marks on his neck and arms proved it. But the young man didn't move. He continued to watch the building carefully as guests piled into the club one by one. What exactly was he looking for?

Magnus secretly hoped that the man would approach the club so that he engage in conversation with him, but the young Shadowhunter turned and disappeared down a dark street before Magnus could call out to him. Oh well. Maybe it was better this way. If a Shadowhunter wasn't going to risk his life for him, why should he risk his life for a Shadowhunter?

The second time was pure coincidence. Magnus was making rounds through the club that night when he saw the Shadowhunter again from across the room. Same hair. Same hard expression. Same outfit (Magnus felt instantly bad for the poor man). Plus it wasn't even that hard to pick him out of the crowd. He was taller than most of the guests here anyway. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Pretty Boy, Magnus decided to call him. Because he was pretty.

Magnus watched him carefully as the man stalked through the crowd, eyes roaming everywhere. It was actually getting on Magnus' nerves that a Shadowhunter could just waltz in here like they own the place without telling him what their purpose was being here. It was a violation of some sort. He was sure of it.

Determined to get some answers, Magnus pushed his way through the crowd. He wasn't having any of this Accords crap keeping him from having a good time. He ran the most popular club in New York. Downworlders were always welcome here. Shadowhunters? Not so much.

He paused when a young man approached Pretty Boy. This one was a Shadowhunter too; hair shaved on the sides, slicked back with gel, two different color eyes that scanned the room with such intensity that Magnus was sure he was going to burn the place down with it, and marks just like the Pretty Boy. They seemed to be speaking to each other in low voices, looking around carefully for something unknown to Magnus.

The song had switched to one with a powerful bass that vibrated in Magnus' chest. The people around him were now fist pumping the air as a woman began to sing, causing him to lose sight of the two Shadowhunter boys. Cursing under his breath, Magnus scanned the crowd again, hoping to find a glimpse of them.

Suddenly the beat dropped and everyone was dancing. His vision was filled with only heads and bodies bouncing to the beat of the music. His ribs rattling with the bass, he squinted against the bright flashing strobe lights (which surprised him that nobody here had a seizure from yet) and suddenly found himself staring straight at Pretty Boy.

And Pretty Boy was staring right back.

Barely even seven feet from each other, they seemed like a mile apart as they stared at each other curiously. Pretty Boy had black hair uniquely pushed to one side, hazel eyes that shone clear even in the flashing lights, and a stern expression on his face as Magnus continued to stare at him, probably wondering why this warlock was giving him such an odd look.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before the damned blonde one showed up and clapped a hand on Pretty Boy's shoulder. The blonde boy looked at Magnus for a moment before turning to leave through the main doors. Pretty Boy, on the other hand, took a final look back at Magnus before following close behind his fellow Shadowhunter.

The third time definitely wasn't a coincidence. Magnus had discovered that Circle members were dealing with demons in trafficking mundane blood. He didn't get involved with it. He knew better than to deal with demons. Circle members, on the other hand, were free game. And he knew the boys would be back to deal with the demon that entered his club.

After dealing with them, he saw Pretty Boy again. This time, it wasn't just Blondie with him. There was now another one with them. Same dark hair as Pretty Boy (but she wore a white wig over it), with eyes just a shade darker and was much shorter, even in heels. Her heels had to be at least seven inches. Magnus applauded her for her bravery.

The three were definitely looking for something or someone. More than likely it had something to do with the deals that had been going on here lately. This was Shadowhunter affairs. His best bet was to stay out of it before he made things a lot worse.

He watched Pretty Boy carefully. The young man had a confidence and swagger in his step that Magnus truly admired from a distance. The girl, on the other hand, looked fascinated with everything around her. The lights, the music, the people. She looked ready to have a good time. Blondie just smirked as he walked towards the VIP room. There was no doubt in Magnus' mind that Pretty Boy kept them in check on missions.

Five minutes later, there was some screaming, clashing of swords, the sound of a whip, someone calling out "Alec!" and more swords. Magnus ignored it all. Again, this was Shadowhunter business. He wasn't going to stick his nose into a situation that had nothing to do with him. He wasn't risking his neck for someone he didn't even know.

A red headed girl collided into him as she rushed past, turning to look him in the eye. There was something oddly familiar about her as he stared right back at her. But he couldn't put a finger on it....

After she rushed out the door, Magnus saw the three Shadowhunters rush out from the VIP room. Pretty Boy held his arm as if he'd been injured and his companions quickly stood by his side and rushed out the door with him. Magnus found himself wanting to go help them, but quickly recovered as his thoughts pushed past uneccessary deeds. Healing him would only mean they owed him. He didn't want a Shadowhunter to be in his debt.

After the excitement died down, Magnus settled into a barstool and poured himself a drink. He wondered if he would see Pretty Boy again anytime soon. There was something about that boy that caught his attention. No one has ever managed to get his attention before. Not in a good long while at least. They don't even earn themselves a second glance. Pretty Boy must've been something special if Magnus wondered if he'd see his beautiful face again.

And he did.