Piano Days and Other Malec One-Shots

Film Strips

He always found endings disappointed. It didn't matter if they were tearjerkers or happily ever afters. Especially the happily ever after. He didn't believe in the reality of them.

Reality was, no one was happy forever. Happiness wasn't something was a constant state of being. Sadness, anger, envy, frustration. How could Cinderella live the rest of her life without those?

Even the disappointing endings were slightly bittersweet. What happened to the comic relief at the end of the film? Would he end up with the girl of his dreams or die alone, a drunkard and a failure?

The sad endings were quite possibly the worst, where no hope was to be found. He almost pointedly avoided those films but they were inevitable. For some awful reason, the Oscars preferred tear-jerkers.

He faithfully attended them all at the old movie theatre he called his second home.

It was an obscure place, the perfect first date for those more interested in ambiance than entertainment. It screamed regal 20's motion pictures, with velvety seats (no obnoxious cupholders) and their tall backs. Curtains adorned the sides of the screen, pulled back with golden tassels that would occasionally catch the light of the film projector, glimmering.

The class of the theatre enhanced the viewing experience. Only the classics were played, carefully selected by the hidden old man who owned the deed to the place. Magnus reviewed them for The New York Times, like a historian recalled and retold the stories of Greece, the Crusades, Napoleonic France, and WWII. He didn't want them to become forgotten. The classics inspired the shit movies of the present.

There were regulars and Magnus was just one of many. Mark was a kid too old for his age, and he always had a different date every week. And he always managed to make it past first base in the top row of the seats. Marie and Carl were British immigrants from the late 40's. Their hearing was shot but they still attended, watching the pictures and recalling the words.

Film students would awkwardly attend occasionally and a stray person might stumble upon Saturday Night Classics but it still had routine feel to it.

Until the black haired boy appeared, late to You Can't Take It With You.

The makings of a regular were intense interest with a relax posture, indicated interest and enjoyment.

How one could not be both interested and entertained by You Can't Take It With You was beyond Magnus (it was one of his biased favorites). And the man displayed both.

He was back the next week, this time on time to The Best Years of Our Lives, a lesser favorite of Magnus' but still a heart-warming tale about servicemen coming home from WWII.

The credits rolled a little after midnight and everyone stood and stretched as the brighter, but still dim, lights rose. Magnus stretched out grandly, smiling at Marie and Carl who were hobbling out of the theatre.

Mark and his date had packed up and disappeared about half way through, to everyone's relief. She was far too much of a giggler.

The film students trudged out as Magnus gathered his notes.

"Film student?" the black haired man asked.

"Film critic," Magnus corrected.

"For films that are decades old?"

"They're the only ones worth reviewing," Magnus quipped. The boy made an "ah" face and smiled. "Magnus Bane."

"Alexander Lightwood. Everyone calls me Alec though."

"So I'll call you Alexander then." Alexander's smile got a little brighter. "And why are you here?"

"Just to watch," Alexander said.