1953
Magnus towel dried his ink black hair before reaching for a pink bottle, so vibrant it appeared to have an ethereal glow, and generously sprayed the top of his head with the product. His fingers expertly combed his long locks up over his forehead until it stayed in firmly in place. It shined brilliantly under the fluorescents. And with a bit of magic, it would remain in place until he said so otherwise. The heat of the day had faded as night fell upon the city. Outside the bathroom window, many people were milling about and enjoying the cool air before resuming their destinations. Some conversation floated up his window on the highest floor. However, more often than not, their words were dull and of abysmal importance to him.
The warlock cast a look over his shoulder at the empty bottle of shampoo still sitting in his shower. His sullen and temporary roommate had used every drop. He gave a faint and irritated scowl. He even doesn't sweat or smell! Magnus complained. It had been a particularly expensive bottle of conditioner infused with green tea. Probably did it just out of spite. After a senseless spat in the living room, Raphael locked himself in the bathroom and showered for nearly half an hour. Using up all of Magnus's shampoo was, evidently, what he had been doing and why he smelled so good when he came out. I'll buy another bottle tomorrow after I see Etta. He thought and gave his hair another spritz of hair spray. His bathroom counter was cluttered with products for hair, skin, perfumes and other miscellaneous items. You name it, it was there. Around his feet were several damp towels in flamboyant shades of tangerine, jade and cerise.
Etta had come by the other day to drop off his studded blazer he left at her home. She had been rather surprised, though knew already of Raphael, and watched as he slinked off to the guest bedroom without a word or sound. Magnus had warned one another of the other but fortunately nobody had attacked the other whether it was physical or verbal. Although Etta had habitually started calling Raphael, 'the baby vampire'. It never failed to amuse Magnus and whenever she said it, he offered a hearty chuckle to Raphael's expense, if he happened to be nearby.
A shape appeared in the mirror and Magnus flinched slightly before wheeling to face the doorway. Raphael Santiago stood; face unreadable as he absorbed the fashion mess in the bathroom.
"One day you'll do that and I'll unleash a volley of spiders on you by accident." He warned. "More or less." He added under his breath. Raphael's eyes flicked to him as if noticing him for the first time. He ignored the threat.
"I can't believe you would frivolously waste seventy-three dollars on shampoo." He criticized.
"It's top of the line." Magnus heavily emphasized its importance. "You want the makers to run around on the streets and throw it at people for free?"
Raphael ignored him again and approached the counter. He lifted some of the products off the surface and regarded them with a faint expression of disgust and disdain. The warlock stood over him and removed several rings adorning his fingers to paint his nails.
"Bane…" Raphael said softly. Magnus paused and watched him curiously, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "They should call you Mr. Vain instead of Mr. Bane."
"And they should call you pain. Mr. Pain in my tush!" He remarked sharply and took the bottles from the vampire and set them back where they were. Instead of letting the boy get to him, he redirected his attention to removing the chipped and faded polish from his nails. Gold was selected for tonight. Etta had invited him to a nightclub downtown where they could dance and drink until dawn. It was drawing closer to midnight and he wondered if perhaps she was at the bar already waiting for him.
"Where are you going?" Raphael inquired, his eyes met Magnus's through the mirror.
"Out."
"When will you be back?"
"Planning on throwing a wild party while I'm gone?"
The boy had no answer for this. Magnus had grown accustomed to it. Sometimes he would start a conversation only to leave it halfway through. And often he would ask a question then leave before he received an answer.
Raphael snuck behind him and stood at the window, looking down at the streets then to the jagged horizon of skyscrapers. Finally, his head tipped up to the sky and he gazed at the stars scattered across the cobalt sky like diamonds. The moon hung high above like an opal emanating a powerful yet gentle glow.
"Do vampires dream?" He suddenly asked and Magnus almost flinched only because it had been so quiet.
"I wouldn't really know, considering I am not one." He replied, letting his voice go soft. Camille sometimes claimed she dreamed of Magnus back when they saw one another, but whether or not she told the truth was questionable.
"When I was alive I used to dream every night." He leaned against the frame of the windowsill. "And now I haven't since."
Magnus set down his gold nail polish and let his fingers air dry.
"What did you dream of?"
Raphael shrugged. In an instant, the guarded expression returned.
"Nothing."
Magnus smirked.
"You dreamed of nothing? Then how did you know you were dreaming?"
Again, and usually without fail, the vampire boy fell into a silence. The warlock snapped his fingers and immediately, the polish hardened. He switched off the bright lights over the mirror. Above them was a small light dimly lighting the bathroom now. Many times, he wondered about magiking the light bulb to make it change colors while he readied himself. And Raphael's reaction as to why the bathroom light was mint green would have worth it.
"Your people," Raphael begun, "do you have souls?"
"Souls?" Magnus pondered this for a moment as he kicked the towels out of the bathroom. "We all have souls."
The boy scowled. "Not me. Not anymore."
"You do. Trust me you do."
The vampire fell quiet and turned around to face him. Magnus switched off the light, ready to finally vacate the bathroom. His eyes fell on Raphael as he did. No emotion usually showed on his face. However, when he turned, he saw a softness on the boy's features that he hadn't seen since he first met him. The room went dark as he hit the light switch. From the sky, the moonlight streaked in through the bathroom, illuminating the pearl tiles and spilling light everywhere. He gazed at Raphael. The face of a Caravaggio angel with its skin dipped in liquid silver stared back at him. Absently, Magnus's feet carried him back into the washroom. Bit by bit, he approached Raphael and stopped when he was just a few inches away. The boy regarded him curiously and hesitantly.
He didn't know why he had done it. It had just happened, without a word, without a thought. The boy was just standing there…the moonlight gleaming against his unflawed skin, his dark eyes tempting. And he leaned forward.
He expected Raphael to refuse him with an outcry of disapproval. Instead he stood still, rigid like a plank of wood and let it happen, his arms limp at his sides. Magnus met his lips with his own and his fingers came to rest on his jaw line. Though the movement was nearly nonexistent, he could feel the vampire leaning into him. It was impossible to tell if it was out of confusion or shock but he was certain he could feel him becoming unsteady on his feet. Magnus pressed him against the wall and renewed the kiss, tasting him. There was a trace of blood on his lip from earlier, coppery and tangy. He ignored the sensation of it. Electrical tingles went off in his body as he cradled Raphael's face in his hands, his lips melding with his. Magnus's eyes opened to see that the boy had his eyes closed. He moved his hands down the boy's neck, where Raphael shuddered, and finally they rested on his shoulders.
When he broke off, he watched as Raphael wavered uneasily on his feet. His eyes completely avoided his. He slid past Magnus and darted soundlessly from the bathroom. A shiver went through Magnus's arms and spine. Snapping out of his hazy trance, he made for his bedroom, threw on his jacket and shoes and left the apartment to meet Etta at the nightclub.
…...
Magnus returned to the apartment around six the next morning. He had walked Etta to her home twenty minutes earlier. She had provided a decent distraction as did the commotion of the club but when he kissed her at her doorstep, all he saw was Raphael standing unsurely before him.
When he opened the door, he searched immediately for the boy and saw that he was nowhere to be found. Calling his name over and over turned up nothing as well. Throwing himself down onto the couch, he began to worry that perhaps he caused him to run out into the sunlight or the streets. Perhaps Raphael sought refuge elsewhere? He couldn't just be gone. There were hundreds of places in the city for him to hide from the light of day, and Magnus. Maybe when night fell he'd come back?
"Don't you know I sleep during the day?" A familiar voice said behind him and Magnus nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Where were you?" He demanded, righting himself. Raphael stood shielding his eyes. Though the curtains were drawn, the living room was still bright. He wore a t-shirt that was inside out; undoubtedly it had some print on the front Raphael disapproved of, and a pair of lounge pants. Magnus noted they were from his closet.
"I was sleeping. Until you rudely ran through the apartment screaming. I would have thought you'd gotten enough of me last night." Before Magnus could respond to that, Raphael turned away and disappeared into the guest room, closing the door behind him. Magnus released a heavy sigh and collapsed onto the couch again. He was almost certain he had frightened him off. Even now, he didn't know why he had done it, kissed Raphael that is. He certainly hadn't planned to do it. The boy was certainly attractive. Magnus kicked his feet up and stripped himself of his jacket before blaming it all on impulse.