Look at me, I’m dying
All the stories are true.
"I don’t know who I am. I look at myself in the mirror and I see Stephen Herondale, but I act like a Lightwood and talk like my father—like Valentine. So I see who I am in your eyes, and I try to be that person, because you have faith in that person and I think faith might be enough to make me what you want."
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Softly, Magnus said, “Aku cinta Kamu."
"What does that mean?" Magnus disentangled himself from Alec’s grip. “It means I love you. Not that that changes anything.” "But if you love me-" "Of course I do. More than I thought I would. But we’re still done," Magnus said. "It doesn’t change what you did."
Magnus put his hand to the side of Alec’s face and gently, almost absently, ran his thumb along Alec’s cheekbone. When he bent to kiss him, he smelled like sandalwood. Alec clutched the sleeve of Magnus’s jacket, and the witchlight, held between their bodies, flared up in colors of rose and blue and green.