[private] loving you isn't the right thing to do. || magnus

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

If he could, Magnus would bear this burden for her.

He would gladly bend his neck to this yoke, take upon this pain, were he able. Instead, he is trapped to suffer a lesser, but excruciating pain all his own: watch helplessly on as she struggles in agony. There is a beast in his chest that does not quiet, that screams and anguishes. He feels a familiar urge to run until he cannot—until his limbs give out and lungs collapse. He feels the itch racing up his legs and into his heart, but he ignores it. Instead, he stands still, an buoy for her to cling to as she rides along the waves of pain.

As she cries out, he grits his teeth, setting his jaw against a groan of frustration. He would take the own splintering of his skull again before this; he would bleed out gladly onto the beach before having to watch her suffer in such a way. He drops his head, pressing his cheek to her sweat-slick flesh. “I am still here, Ellyse,” his voice was low, throaty, almost hoarse with emotion. “I am still here with you.”

Then, the pace quickens—the tempo of the moment going fast (too fast). Before he knows it, there is a boy (a boy!) on the ground, soaked with fluid, wings curled around his impossibly small body. But before Magnus can exhale in relief, more contractions wrack Ellyse’s body, and he swings his gaze around toward her. He can feel his throat constrict, his pulse thudding. A small girl slips out onto the ground.

Small, delicate, beautiful.

Still—too still.

The world tilts beneath him, and Magnus feels his knees buckle. He catches himself before he falls, watching in disbelief as Ellyse practically crawls to the still child, her sobs echoing around him. He swallows and his tongue is sandpaper in his mouth, swollen and thick. Anguish like he has never known snakes through his veins and tightens his throat; he cannot see around it. He cannot breathe around it.

I have done this. This is my punishment.

The words revolve in his head until he is certain that he will be sick. He almost does not notice when Ellyse stands, when she curls into his side, when her tears fall hot and fast onto his neck. It takes every ounce of strength to rein in the pain, to stop the sobs that break hard and fast into the back of his throat. It takes everything within him to turn toward her, to wrap around her and hold her close.

No words come; no words are right. He just closes his eyes and draws her close, holding her and the splintered world in his palms and wishing that he could piece it back together again.

magnus