His nap was short this time, only just about two hours long, give or take a few minutes. It was dusk, the room darker now without sunlight. His door was still partially open, the main source of light coming from the hallway. He heard Raphael's voice, in his clipped business tone, probably in discussion with someone on the phone. There were wet, pattering sounds on the windows; it was raining.
Slowly, without a sound, he left the bed. Bare feet making muffled shushing noises on the carpeted floor, he padded to the glass door. Like in his office, he had a perfect view of the gardens from his balcony in the apartments. Late as it was and the rain clouds making the dusk darker than it usually would be, the gardens may as well have been one of shadows than of flowers. But still, the scent of the blooms came faintly through the closed doors, mixed with the stronger smell of the rain.
Michael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He loved rainy days and thought the nights even better. The sound of rain against the windows was as soothing as a lullaby and the coolness in the air during a storm was one that made him glad to be warm and cozy in a bed.
He glanced around the room, almost expecting Raphael to be at the door. But the other angel was still in the office, still deep in discussion. He heard his name and a soft, almost inaudible to his ears, affectionate chuckle. It made him curious as to the subject and the identity of the ash-blonde archangel's friend. But not so much that he would go to the door and try to find out.
Carefully, he unlocked the glass door and slid it open. Although he made no more noise than a whisper, he checked the room again anyway. Amused at the thought of himself like a child slipping away in secret to play with his friends, he stepped out on the balcony and closed the door behind him.
The balcony was sheltered, but not so much that the rain still came in sheets. Michael turned his face upwards toward the sky, a slight smile on his lips as the cold drops hit him. Rain was wonderful, cleansing. Albeit, it was a bit depressing, rain being called the tears of the gods. Nevertheless, he loved it. Ever since he was a child, to the absolute irritation of his mother, he had loved to play in the rain. His earlier analogy to a child and his friends may as well be about his younger self.
He sighed and leaned on the railing, not caring how wet he was getting; he was already soaked, anyway, so he couldn't possibly get any wetter. 'Ah, the simplicity of childhood,' he thought to himself, grinning now as he remembered those days of rain dances and mud fights. 'Such a long time ago.'
Thunder rumbled in the distance and there were faint flashes of lightning on the horizon. The storm would definitely get worse before it got better. Wiping his wet curls away from where they plastered his cheeks, he briefly wished he was of an age young enough to merit dancing in the rain.
'Ah, well...'
"Are you kidding?! I could've beaten them if I had laryngitis." A pause. "Ne, seriously, Raphael, you should really come over here sometime. You and Michael both. And for vacation, not another one of those conferences. I could show you around. All the best places to go, y'know, where people are tolerable."
The tall archangel chuckled, dark eyes twinkling. "I swear, Uriel, despite all the things you keep on saying, you spend more of your free time on Earth than on Eden."
"Yeah, I probably do," the brown-haired archangel on the screen said cheerfully. "But, you've gotta admit, it's a lovely vacation spot. Despite what I say. And if you know where to go, well, that's all the better. Less trouble, less grumbling, everyone's happy. Oh, hey, by the way, where is Michael?"
Raphael cast a glance at the partially open door leading to the apartments. "He's resting at the moment. He fainted this morning."
Uriel sat up in his chair. "What? Is he all right?"
"Aa," he replied, nodding. "It's nothing serious. Apparently, he'd been getting little sleep these past few days."
"Workaholic or insomniac?" the other archangel laughed, then added in a joking tone, "Or maybe he has a special lady friend, eh?"
"Some rules have to be broken, or the pain builds and tears you apart."
"Work."
'At least, that's what he says,' he added silently, looking once more at the dark, quiet hall.
"I meant it, you know. Every word I said back then, everything I've ever said. I meant it."
'...Michael...'
There was knocking on Uriel's end of the line, accompanied by a faint, "Uriel-sama? Are you in?"
"Well, that's my cue." The singer snickered and gave a small wave. "Oh, God, 'Uriel-sama.' Can't say I relish the title when it's on their lips. Bah! See you in a couple of days, Raphael-sama! I hope the weather's better by then. Oh, and give my regards to Michael-sama. Tell him not to be such a workaholic, or I'll get myself back up there and sing him to sleep every night."
With a hasty "Excuse me." and a mischievous smile, the archangel cut off the connection. Raphael laughed softly at the image of the angel singing lullabies to Valhalla's commander. Although, he had to admit, it would probably work -- Uriel was the 'Miracle Voice,' after all.
'You never know, Uriel,' he thought, amused at the images running through his head. 'I just might have to take you up on that offer of yours.'
He stood, keying in the command to send the console into sleep mode, then went to the attached apartments. He would leave soon, he decided, since Michael was likely to sleep on through the night. Indeed, he had not expected the archangel to be awake when he last checked, as the medics had predicted that he would sleep until morning, his body taking that well-needed rest to recover itself.
He recalled the morning's events and froze at the bedroom door, willing the hand on the doorknob to not start shaking again. He had been frightened earlier, when Michael fainted. It had definitely been something he did not expect. As he had said earlier, his partner had hid his sleep deprivation well; he had not for one minute suspected that Michael was keeping late hours and not getting enough rest. It was only when they were arguing, when the other angel mentioned coffee, that the idea of something being wrong entered his mind. And by then, it was too late.
"Michael?" he called out softly.
He opened the door halfway, letting the light of the hallway into the room. It was still too dark to see, the storm adding to the gloom night always brought. So Raphael stepped inside and turned a nearby lamp on to a low setting. After his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he glanced around.
The bed was empty.
Alarmed, the archangel turned on the main lights. Blinking to get his eyes adjusted to this change in light quickly, he scanned the room again. Michael was nowhere in it. He could not have left, for the door to the office was the only way out. There was another exit out of the apartments through the sitting room across the hall, but Raphael had made sure to lock the doors into the room, limiting any 'escape routes' to one.
'At least, out to the rest of the building...'
The balcony. Besides hiding in the bathroom or a closet, that was the only place his partner could be. He strode to the glass door and pushed away the curtains. Sure enough, Michael was outside, leaning against the railing, not seeming to notice anything but the rain.
He slid the door open. "Michael-sama!"
The angel turned his head slightly to gaze at him out of the corner of his eyes. Rivulets of water ran down his pale face while sopping wet, blonde tresses were plastered to his skin. A faint smile hovered on his lips, matching the faraway look in his crystal blue eyes.
"You idiot," Raphael chided gently as he wrapped an arm around Michael and led him inside. "What did you think you were doing out there?" Without waiting for an answer -- or expecting it, really -- he led the drenched angel to the bathroom and ordered, "Out of the wet clothes and take a hot shower, Michael-sama. I'll get your things."
He left the archangel there, trusting him to have sense enough to follow directions. Sure enough, within moments, he heard the hiss of the shower from within. Nodding to himself, satisfied that Michael was doing as he was told -- 'For once.' -- he went to the closet, retrieved a robe and a set of nightclothes, and left them in the bathroom.
'Stupid,' he told himself silently. 'How long was he out there? God, now he'll really be sick, I'm sure of it!'
He went out to the office and, opening the door into the main hallway, caught the attention of a passing servant and ordered the woman to bring extra blankets to the apartments. Bobbing her head, she left in a flash, coming back only a few moments later with the blankets in her arms. He took them from her with a hasty thanks and brought them to the bedroom.
He was in a turmoil of emotions as he arranged the new blankets on the bed. He was worried, certainly, for Michael's health. Angry at the other angel for doing what he did. And, strangely, curious as to what had driven him to go out there into the pouring rain.
'Oh, you should know,' a voice reminded him grimly.
He refused to dwell on the thought. The voice was probably right.
"Raphael?"
He looked up. Michael stood in the doorway, clad in the soft, sky blue nightclothes Raphael had set out for him, the snow-colored robe hanging about his shoulders. The dark-eyed archangel rose and went to him, all of his previous thoughts clearing out of his mind.
"I'm sorry, Raphael." Michael kept his gaze on the floor and allowed himself to be led to the bed. "I... I don't know what I was thinking..... I'm so sorry... I don't know how you keep on around me. I must be such a nuisance to you..."
Whether Michael meant it or not, he heard another meaning to those words. No, he couldn't dwell on that. He wouldn't.
"I'm used to you, Michael-sama," he said truthfully. "After all this time, one would think that I have to be. You've yet to be a bother."
Soft laughter from his companion as he climbed into the bed and allowed the dark-eyed angel to pull the blankets up around him. Raphael allowed his hands to linger a moment on the soft cloth before pulling them away, ignoring the fact that the move was almost reluctant. He had done this twice in one day, the only difference with this time being that there were more blankets.
"Raphael," Michael spoke after a short silence.
"Hm?"
"Awhile ago, you asked..." His friend closed his eyes and buried himself deeper into the covers, only now beginning to shiver a little. "You asked what I was doing out there... In the rain..."
He was so pale. Raphael brushed the other's wet bangs away from his eyes, but had to fight not to do anything more. This time, he did not delay pulling away.
"Aa. I did."
The answer came softly, almost inaudible. Michael was already half asleep, this last murmur likely his last before unconsciousness claimed him. Had Raphael not been so close as he was, he would never have heard the words.
"...I was crying with the gods..."