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Alastair looked out of the window, deep in his thoughts. Every time he slept, he would get nightmares. He decided it was unwise to sleep. He knew he would need a few energy runes in the morning but it was better than waking up crying out every time. He wondered if the sky looked this starry and bright every night.

Probably not, he decided. After all it was raining almost all the time London. He brushed the lock of his dark hair out of his eyes and stared curiously out of the window. There was nothing to be curious about. But he needed a distraction.

His father was returning and instead of feeling the happiness a child would, he dreaded it. Sure he wasn't exactly a 'child', but anyone would miss their fathers.

Except Alastair. How could he? How could he when he saw his father at his worst? When he would clean the mess his father created? He often wondered what he had done to have the honour of dealing with his drunk father.

And now Cordelia too. She knew the truth. But he didn't tell her the things he had said. No, he couldn't burden her like that. He was fairly sure his mother didn't know too. Usually, he was the one who had to face his father when he was so drunk he couldn't even remember his own name.

But that wasn't the only problem. There was Charles. He had ended things between them at Cordelia's engagement. He was actually relieved. But he was receiving letters from Charles to meet him one more time to sort things out almost everyday. He always refused. He understood that Charles could never love him more than that politics of his. And he couldn't deal with it. He of course knew they were falling out of love and their relationship was getting more toxic each day. But ending things had still hurt.

And then there was the matters of Thomas and Matthew. How did he expect to be forgiven so easily? After all, he had done terrible, oh so terrible, things. And he regretted them. He wished he could take them back but he couldn't. Past was past and you can't change the past. He could still hear Thomas's icy voice as he threatened to throw him into Thames the next time they met. He had run like a coward he was, unable to stop the tears. He was humiliated when Lucie saw him like that. Could he help it? No. Did it matter? More than he'd like to admit. Even after two weeks, it hurt the same. He didn't know why Thomas's anger affected him so much. In fact, Thomas had every right to shout at him for what he did. But sometimes it hurt so much, he would end up in a foul mood.

But thankfully, not all things were bad. He had found friendship where he thought resentment existed.

Ariadne Bridgestock.

He had to border patrol with her. He dreaded it at first but found that they had a lot in common. So, of course, a complicated yet simple friendship had started.

His fingers were itching. He knew the reason very well. These past days, he had that sudden urge to play the piano. The urge he hadn't had in years. He itched for the feeling of the keys beneath his fingers as he would glide his hand across the piano in a full span. His heart ached for that calm feeling he would have when he played the piano.

His father would kill him if he found out he had started playing it again. He had stopped because of two reasons, one really, his father used to say he shouldn't play the piano. When he was younger, Elias had no problem. But then why suddenly when Alastair was 10? If he would argue, he would hit him. He was still scared and felt angry at himself. He was practically an adult now. He shouldn't be affected by those things. At the academy too, everyone would say playing instruments is something a shadowhunter must not do. They would say he wasn't truly a shadowhunter if he 'wasted' his time like that. Those words still rang in his ears.

But he couldn't take it anymore. His father wasn't at the house, nor were those children.

He went towards the piano slowly, his hands shaking. He sat down and put his shaking hand on one of the key and pressed it lightly. Even pressing a single key brought him peace. And then he pressed another. And just like that, music poured out of it. He didn't know what he was playing. But it felt good. It was as if a burden he had been carrying so long was taken off. He played as his life flashed like a film in front of his closed eyelids.

He heard someone come to the room with the witchlight and he realized that he had woken everyone up. Cordelia stood there with Sona close behind. Sona looked shocked with a hand on her belly. Cordelia looked at him with affection. He felt guilty. They weren't having any problems sleeping. He shouldn't have played the piano.

"khak bar saram, I shouldn't have played the piano. I woke you up." Alastair said hastily and looked down, embarrassed.

Cordelia's hair shined in the light of witchlight as she said, "Oh Alas, I am so glad you decided to play the piano again. It was a melody."

Sona walked towards him slowly and added, "Alastair joon, we all missed your piano's melody. I am so happy."

Except father, Alastair chided silently.

Sona hugged him and after a moment's hesitation, Alastair put his arms around her. Cordelia joined them and for a moment, Alastair let himself drown in their warmth and forget all his troubles. It felt nice. For a moment he could pretend everything was good.