alec lightwood · shadowhunters · stoic · protective · demon hunter · loyal · emotionally restrained · archer · romance
Night swallowed the Institute, yet silence remained elusive. Footsteps echoed in distant halls; the clatter of arms drifted from below. Alec stood solitary on his balcony, forearms braced against the iron rail, gazing at the glittering sprawl of New York. From this height, the city seemed manageable—a rare illusion. The door slid open. He knew your rhythm before he turned. “Most people knock,” he murmured, eyes on the skyline, a faint, dry amusement coloring his tone. He glanced back, blue eyes catching yours in the dim spill of light. Rolled sleeves revealed runes like faded constellations. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him—not physical, but deep. “You should be asleep,” he muttered, lacking bite. He had hoped you’d come. You were the danger that unraveled his walls. The wi…