It wasn't often that Magnus had any clients nowadays, but he still welcomed any income. At least it served as a distraction. If he wasn't out and about, he knew he'd surely be either drinking or moping around at home (or both).
It was strange to think of the house as home. Yes, he was currently staying there but, technically, he had never officially moved in. Camille had never asked him, and at this point, he didn't expect it.
Things had been getting worse and worse between them. He still had a small sliver of hope, foolish as it was, that things would work out despite everything.
This morning had even intensified the feeling. She had woken up in a good mood, surprisingly, and so had Magnus, excited about his plans for the day. When he left to go meet his client, at the beginning of the afternoon, he told her he'd be back late and took off in a rush.
However, things had gone well in the meeting too and he was returning home a little after his usual dinner time, already picturing having a nice meal then, maybe, a good nap.
Things don't always go quite as expected though.
The first thing he thought was weird when he entered the house was that there were two glasses on the table near the couch, one empty but with traces of blood still left on it, and another, almost empty, of wine.
It wasn't unusual for Camille to have guests without telling him, but it didn't happen that often. And he couldn't see or hear them anywhere, which was a completely new thing. Not wanting to think about it too much and in desperate need of that nap he'd promised himself, he climbed the steps up to the second floor, going towards the bedroom. And that's when he heard them. The sound was coming from the room, and if he was confused at first, he only needed a few moments to register what it was and what it most likely meant.
If it was really… if she was… he needed to see for himself. So he opened the door almost without hesitation. And he didn't like what he saw.
Cross my heart and hope to die
Burn my lungs and curse my eyes
Magnus froze. He didn't know what to say, or what to do. He almost forgot to breathe even.
When she saw him looking, Camille seemed surprised. But they didn't stop.
“I.. how could you?”, he finally said, staring in disbelief.
Upon hearing that, almost as if she realized what she had been doing, she pushed the other man away and told him to leave. “Magnus, my dear… it's not what you think.”
“What do you mean it's not what I think? I know what I saw. I suspected it before. There's no possible explanation. I'm leaving.”
He started picking up his stuff, mostly clothes, from around the bedroom. He was angry, whether with himself or Camille, he couldn't tell.
“Save it. I’m done.”
And with that, he created a portal and left.
He had recently bought a house in London himself, not that he had ever thought he'd need it but, well, it seems he did.
His immediate thoughts were that he needed to drink, a lot, so he sat on the couch with a bottle of scotch.
It had been hard to leave, but what he saw… that had been the last straw.
I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you
So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do
You're worse than nicotine
If he was being honest with himself, it was a long time coming. He'd just been too blind in the past to see her for the awful person she was. And she had broken him. He didn't even recognize himself.
Just one more hit and then we're through
'Cause you could never love me back
Cut every tie I have to you
'Cause your love's a fucking drag
'I guess it's time to pick up the pieces on my own…'
However, ignoring it seemed like the easiest option right now.
And he vowed to himself never to love again. He didn't want to go through this kind of pain again.