Magnus pressed his trembling lips against Alec’s. The eighteen year old teen was clutching on tightly to the High Warlock of Brooklyn for dear life. Magnus’ kiss became deeper; sliding an arm around Alec’s waist, he pressed their bodies together. “Magnus,” Alec’s shaking voice was clear to him; it was a mixture of fear and pain woven together with an overwhelming amount love. “Don’t leave me again Magnus!” the teen buried his face in the crook of Magnus’ neck, inhaling the sweet scent the warlock always wore; sandalwood.  “I’m sorry Alec, I’m so sorry.” Magnus didn’t have words. He had been so stupid, so stupid! Their lips pressed together again. Alec’s arms slid around Magnus’ neck, pressing himself against the warlock, walking; pushing him backwards. Magnus’ legs hit the edge of the bed. Falling backwards Alec landed on top of him, his face beside Magnus’, his lips planted underneath Magnus’ ear. The Warlock shivered, “I missed you,” Alec pressed his nose against Magnus’. “I missed you too Alec. I’m so sorry!”