chapter four: nothing can breathe, in the space


this chapter is 5000+ words so enjoy :)

/

disclaimer: i do not own tmi ofc


Clary woke up with an amalgamation of dull aches and sharp pangs spread throughout the body. Groaning in pain, she stretched and promptly fell out of her 'bed.' What the fuck? Was the thought that echoed in her head. Oh, right. Hotel Dumort, Raphael's bedroom, window seat, it dawned on Clary.

"Good morning, hermosa," Raphael's voice called out from somewhere near his desk. "You'll find a toothbrush and other mundane stuff in the bathroom."

Clary checked her phone. It was noon, she had been asleep for about ten hours. Yawning, she made her way to the luxurious bathroom. Yesterday, she had been too tired to appreciate the beauty of it but now she could ogle at the extravagant marble to her heart's desire.

Standing in front of the massive mirror, she confronted her chaotic appearance. Her hair best resembled a bird's nest, the curls mused to an extent that made Clary wince at the thought of untangling them. Her dark eyebags jarringly contrasted with her pale skin, and the only clothes she had were lined with creases. She would have to go the institute today and bring over some clothes, or ask Isabelle. Hopefully Jace won't be around, as she began the arduous task of untangling her hair and fought tooth and nail to tie it up into a ponytail. Once she won the fight and her arms were screaming in their persistent dull ache, she walked over to Raphael, who was intently scribbling down something at his desk.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Clary asked, trying to get a glimpse at what Raphael was so focused on.

"Vampires don't need a lot of sleep," he didn't even look up.

"What are you doing?" she inquired, giving up on trying to find out for herself.

"Work."

"I didn't realise you even had to do work."

"I'm the head of the largest clan in this state, and also a member of the council. Of course I have to work," he scoffed.

"Damn, and you have to do this for the rest of eternity? That sounds horrible."

"Working is better than going to a Downworlder bar every single night and getting wasted on spiked blood, then finding some mundane or Seelie to come home with. Even sex gets boring after a while," his voice was nothing but apathetic.

"You sound like you have experience," Clary stated.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Raphael raised an eyebrow, glancing up.

Clary's face burned red, "That's not what I meant."

"I'm sure you didn't," Raphael said, in somewhat a smug manner, as he folded up his finished letter and placed it in an envelope. He sealed it and opened a drawer on the side of his desk, and when he put it in there, it just disappeared.

"Uh, drawers aren't supposed to do that."

"Normal drawers aren't supposed to do that," he corrected her. "This one has been enchanted so it transports letters to where they need to go."

"And where do they need to go?"

"To the correct people," he said, smiling slightly.

"Very informative," Clary replied, and then noticed the golden ball invitation still on the floor. She bent down to pick it up.

"Oh, great." Raphael commented, eyeing the letter in distaste.

"You don't want to go?"

"No quiero, pero tengo que," he muttered. Clary gave him a confused look and he translated. "I don't want to, but I have to. I'm in the council, so I have to make some speech about how the past year has been."

"Sounds fun. Have you finished it?"

"Haven't even started it," he said, grinning. "What about you? Is the infamous Clarissa Morgenstern going to the ball?"

Clary hesitated. She was so excited to go with Jace, and now that wasn't going to happen. "I don't know anymore. I'm not sure if I want to go and see Jace with his new girlfriend."

Raphael's shoulders tensed slightly, but they untensed just as quickly and Clary thought she had just imagined it.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I have to go back to the institute," Clary said, changing the topic.

"I thought you were going to be here for another week?"

"I am, but I need clothes. I can't wear this for the next week," she gestured at her crumpled shirt and jeans.

"We can go shopping tonight," he offhandedly said.

"What?" Clary asked dumbfounded.

"Aren't you avoiding golden-boy? Going back to where he lives might just make it hard to do," Raphael's voice was impassive, but there was slight edge to it.

"But I don't need to buy any new clothes. That's just a waste of money," Clary said, her voice confused.

"I'll pay," he sounded as if he didn't have a care.

What the hell? Clary thought, absolutely astounded. Since when was Raphael interested in shopping? There must be something else at play here. I can't trust him.

"Uh, it's fine. I'll ask Isabelle to bring some of my clothes over."

"No need."

"Why are you bothering with all of this?" Clary asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Making your visit here more pleasant, hermosa. It is a hotel after all," he smiled slyly.

"Seriously?"

"What? Would you rather I treat you like a prisoner?" His face still showed his amusement.

"Honestly, it would be more in character." Clary said frankly.

Suddenly, Raphael's entire demeanour changed, his body tensing, and his face becoming closed off.

"And what would you know about my character?" His voice was almost harsh.

"You did almost kill Simon…Jace and me a couple years ago. And then Simon turned into a vampire."

"Things were different before. Downworlders hated Shadowhunters, but now, times have changed."

"Have you?"

Raphael looked into her eyes, and she saw a hint of something that hadn't been there before, but she couldn't quite place what it was. He quickly averted his gaze, his dark eyelashes covering his eyes. "No lo sé," he muttered. He didn't bother translating, instead saying, "I'm taking you shopping tonight."

"Fine," Clary guessed this was one disagreement she couldn't win.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep," he said, and brushed past her. "Also, there is food on the sofa," he added, not looking at her.

"Thanks," she replied in an uneven tone.

She didn't watch as he walked away but recognized the soft rustle of the velvet curtains sliding close. Clary's scanned the desk, finding something to do for the next few hours. Her eyes fell on some blank paper, and she found pencils lying around. She also noticed a pair of earphones. She shrugged and took the couple items, as well as thick book to lean on, and settled on the window seat near the desk. It wasn't her usual environment, but she made do, putting on her favourite songs and starting to sketch.
_

"What's with you and window seats?"

Clary looked up in surprise at the sudden disturbance. She had been drawing for the past couple hours, only taking a couple breaks to eat food. It mostly consisted of varieties of chips, along with some cans of soda and thankfully, iced coffee. It wasn't as good hot coffee, but it was better than nothing.

Clary had sketched multiple drawings, all of them having one thing in common – Raphael. Now that he was in front of her, she realised she hadn't done a bad job. The current drawing on her lap pictured him sitting at his desk, much like she had seen him when she had woken up. She had captured the natural tilt of his mouth, his sharp jawline and angular cheekbones, the little furrow of his eyebrows when he was confused or annoyed (not that she had gotten a lot of emotion out of him- he was like a brick wall that showed signs of being living once in a blue moon). In her drawing, his hair was a mess, falling onto his eyes and as he stood in front of her then, his black curls were the exact same.

"They're comfy," Clary replied. She tried to subtly flip over the paper without Raphael realising. However, his eyes caught the motion, and then found the other couple drawings on the floor.

"NO," Clary almost yelled, as he picked them up. She leaped up and tried to snatch them out of his hands, but he just held them up high enough that she couldn't reach, while using one arm to keep her away.

"Estoy halagado," he said, his voice filled with humour. The drawing he was looking at was of him leaning against the wall, outside Hotel Durmont, the streetlight illuminating him. He had an annoying smirk on his lips, and his eyes held his amusement, both exactly similar to his expression at the current moment. He put that page at the back, paying attention to the other two sketches in his hand and Clary gave a resigned sigh, crossing her arms. One of them was him sitting on his bed lazily, earphones in and eyes trained on his phone, much like he had been yesterday when she was on the phone with Isabelle. The other drawing was the one that had taken Clary the longest. It pictured him lying on the grass in the park, his posture more relaxed than it was ever, his body lined with the lights from the trees. Clary had captured the muscles visible through his pushed back shirt sleeves, as his arms were up, his hands under his head. She had drawn to uncanny detail the rest of him, his neck, his collarbones visible, down to his chest, the shirt curving slightly at his waist and moving down to his legs. However, the most detail was on his face, his eyes, lashes long and curved, and under them two dark orbs, that were comforting, containing a hint of a strong emotion. Raphael stared at that drawing for a couple minutes, completely still.

"Well, if you wanted to draw more of me, I'd be willing to act like a nude model," he finally said teasingly, but his tone slightly lacked in his usual confidence.

"I'll pass," Clary snatched the papers out of his hand.

"Alright. The offer still stands though. Just ask whenever you change your mind," he said, still sounding amused.

"That's never going to happen."

"Nunca digas nunca, Clary."

"Never say never?" she guessed.

"Precisely," he said, "You should go get ready. We're going to go Taki's before we go shopping."

"Uh, Taki's?" Clary asked, hoping she had heard him wrong.

"Yeah, it's a caf-"

"I know what it is," she interrupted him, "But uh, do we have to go there?"

"It's the best place for us both to eat," he said, and then raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Clary hesitated, not wanting to share her thoughts. She shook her head, "It's fine."

"Good," he replied firmly, as if he wouldn't have taken any other answer. "Also, we are not taking the subway again. The motorcycles are much more convenient."

Clary opened her mouth to argue but he simple shushed her and turned her around, lightly pushing her towards the bathroom.

"Don't shush me," she said, her tone showing her annoyance.

"I just did. Now shhh, hurry up and get ready."

She shot him an outraged look and stomped off towards the bathroom. She could swear she heard him lightly chuckling behind her.

Clary had the quickest shower, thinking the whole time about what she was going to do. Taki's and demon energy motorcycles, they were things she did with Jace. And now it had been barely 24 hours since she had broken up with him, and here she was doing the same things with a horribly, annoying vampire. She sighed and dried herself off, pulling on the same clothes and brushing her hair, choosing to leave it out. When she walked out, Raphael was closing the door to his closet, having changed into a black pair of jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt. He had pushed back the sleeves, and the golden chain still hung around his neck. He looked up and saw Clary, noticing her loose hair, and tracing it down with his eyes to where it hung, past her chest. His gaze snapped back to her face and he asked, "Ready?".

She nodded, grabbing Lily's jacket from where it lay on the sofa, pulling it on. The walk to the roof was short, and Clary took a deep breath as she laid eyes on the motorcycles.

"Do we have to use a motorcycle?" she asked, looking at Raphael with a pleading look. He seemed annoyed for a second when he saw the second motorcycle, that was gone as soon as he met Clary's eyes.

He grinned at her, "I'm promise I'm not going to crash into a helicopter."

"You can crash into many other things," she muttered.

Raphael rolled his eyes, and sat on the motorcycle. She got on behind him, keeping a little space between the two of them, and lightly placing her hands on his shoulders. She felt him sigh, as if he were tired.

"No, I am not going to move closer," she said, before he could say anything.

"Clary, you're going to fall off." He did sound tired, tired of disagreeing with her.

"I'll be fine, I've ridden one of these before," she stated confidently even though she didn't believe herself.

"You haven't ridden with me before," he said. "Trust me, it's much more different than what you're used to."

"I know, but-," before Clary could finish, Raphael had grabbed her knees and slid her forward, forcing her to bring her arms down from his shoulders. She gasped at the sudden movement, and punched him in the back lightly.

"Hold on," he said, and she barely had time to put her arms around his waist before he had started the bike. He accelerated and the edge was right there and then they were falling. Clary would have yelled, but instead she held onto Raphael tighter, his abdominal muscles relaxed under her tense arms, and buried her face into his back. She could feel him laughing quietly and had to repress the urge to punch him again. She was afraid that if she let go with even one hand, she would slip right off. After about ten very long seconds, the bike started to rise, and Clary let out the breath she didn't realise she was holding. This was only the second time she had experienced the fall, as with Jace, they always started from the ground. Now, she finally relaxed a little, but still held on tight enough to Raphael. He wasn't wrong when he had said that it would be different. While Jace had always gone fast, he seemed to always be hesitant, aware of his mortality. Raphael had none of the hesitance. He was much faster, much surer with his driving. Yet, somehow Clary had a sense that he was being cautious, and unbelievably, she felt safe – or at least as safe one can feel riding on a motorcycle hundreds of feet above ground. She placed her head against the small of his back, her eyes taking in the blurred lights of the busy city below.

When they arrived at Taki's, the place was crowded – more filled than Clary had ever seen it.

"Why are there so many people here?" she asked, confused.

"It's Saturday night. Prime time for most Downworlders," he said, his eyes flickering over the whole place through the windows. He opened the door, the bell ringing with a tinkle.

"Hey Raphael," Kaelie said from behind the counter. She beamed at him but when she saw who was next to him, her eyes widened. "Hey Clary," she said, not as enthusiastically.

The conversation in the diner suddenly dimmed down, and Clary was very aware of many pairs of eyes trained on the two of them.

"Uh, everyone's looking at us," she whispered at Raphael. He didn't respond, instead nodded at Kaelie and led Clary to a booth in a corner. Everyone stopped paying attention to them then, going back to talking.

"We do make an odd couple," Raphael said, sitting across from Clary.

"Not a couple," she glared at him.

"Yet," he said, grinning.

Clary rolled her eyes at him. She picked up the menu and flipped it, skimming through the human food. She had tried almost everything, and it was all damn delicious. She glanced up at Raphael to find him staring at her.

"What?" she asked, giving him a questioning look.

"You have pretty eyes," he said, in all seriousness.

What?

"You can stop trying to annoy me, you know."

"Annoy you? Is that what you think I'm doing?" he asked, sounding as if he was enjoying himself.

"Obviously. Why else would you say that my eyes are pretty?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Maybe because I'm being honest?" he said, not breaking eye contact. Clary realised with a slight shock how unnervingly dark his eyes were, his pupils only slightly distinguishable.

"What would you like to order today?" Kaelie had appeared next to their table, and Clary snapped her eyes back to the menu.

"I'll have a cheese toastie," Clary said. Kaelie didn't even look at her, only jotted it down, then beamed at Raphael.

"What about you?" she asked in an awfully cheery voice, batting her eyelashes.

Clary wanted to puke at her obvious flirting – why would someone flirt with Raphael – but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he didn't even glance up at her, only ordered some blood of an animal Clary had never heard of before. Kaelie, who was usually nice to Clary, shot her a raging look and walked off.

"Were you two a thing?" Clary asked as soon as she was gone.

Raphael was idly twisting a straw in his fingers, and lightly chucked when she asked her question. "Not a thing as such. Maybe a one or two night stand."

"She certainly doesn't think so little of it," Clary muttered.

"Really? I didn't notice," he spoke with an innocent expression.

"Of course you didn't," sarcasm dripped off her words. He raised an eyebrow at her, as if questioning her attitude.

Damn, I've always wanted to be able to raise an eyebrow. Why does he get to do it?

"So where are we going?" Clary asked. "I don't think many stores are open after 9pm."

"We're not going to a mundane mall. There's a Downworlder shopping centre called Stygian Place."

"Stygian Place? Sounds delightful," she said, sceptically. _

She was not at all sceptical when they arrived at the mall. It was disguised as an abandoned construction site, but past the glamour it was majestic. While the name Stygian Place suggested a horrible, dark area, the building was the exact opposite. It was bright, lights shining through windows, three stories tall and wide. Raphael led her to the second floor, which seemed to be entirely dedicated to fashion. One window pictured small dresses- as if they were for children, with wings attached to the mannequins. Another window advertised liquid-proof clothes, "Perfect for keeping off blood!", while another had "Stretchable, untearable clothes for easy transformations!" and several accessories, such as bracelets and necklaces that showed the lunar cycle. There was another shop that had no door to enter in through, which was just as well, since it was entirely flooded with water.

"What happened there?" Clary asked, tugging at Raphael's sleeve, and pointing at the shop.

"It's for mermaids," he said simply. He took her inside a shop before she could process that mermaids existed.

The place they had entered had surprisingly normal clothing. There were racks of shirts, skirts, dresses, and tables holding jeans, a corner full of accessories – sunglasses, earrings, necklaces, and an area with shoes. It was large, but there was barely anybody around, only a tall girl with dark brown skin, her fangs barely visible from a mirror as she tried some hats, and a guy with well-disguised little green scales on his arm who was browsing a range of coats. The cashier (a werewolf – his bite mark was visible above the collar of his shirt) was sitting with his feet up on the counter, leaning back on his chair while playing a game on his phone that looked suspiciously like.

"Buy anything you want," said Raphael, his eyes surveying the store. "I'll be sitting over there," he said, pointing at a waiting area with a couch in front of the changing rooms.

Clary nodded at him and started browsing through the shirts. She picked out three she really liked it, that were cheap. She didn't feel good about him paying and intended on keeping the total cost low. Next, she got two pairs of jeans, one dark blue and the other black. She also grabbed a fluffy black jacket, not much different from Lily's one. Feeling comfortable that those things should last her for a week, she headed over to the dressing room. Raphael glanced up at the clothes in her hands, looking sort of disappointed. She didn't question him, just went into a changing room, that had curtains instead of a door.

She came out, satisfied with all the clothes. She had expected to find Raphael still on the couch, but instead he was near a rack, where several dresses hung.

"Choosing one for yourself?" she joked, walking up next to him.

"How did you know?" he grinned at her. He then gestured at the dresses with his hand, facing her. "You should get one."

"Oh no, I've already gotten what I need," Clary held up the clothes in her arms.

"Just have a look," he insisted, taking clothes from her, and putting them in a basket.

Clary wanted to say no, but one look from him and she started browsing through the dresses. They were all shockingly stunning, but none of them really her style. She was going to tell Raphael that she didn't really like any of them when a white dress caught her eye. She pulled it out, noticing that it small, appropriate for her size. It was simple, but elegant. It had a lace like pattern of flowers, with a modest V-neck and spaghetti straps. It was short at the front but flared out to be longer at the back.

"Try it on," Raphael said. Clary started at his voice; she had forgotten he was behind her. She nodded and went back into the dressing room. The dress slipped on easily, fitting as if it were made for her. She reached back to do up the zip, but she couldn't seem to grasp it. She struggled for a minute before giving up, sighing in frustration. She could ask Raphael, but it would be too weird, she thought. But what other option did she have? She ducked her head out of the curtain, and Raphael looked up at the movement.

"Could you do my zip up?" she asked hesitatingly.

He nodded, his face not betraying any emotion. He walked over to the dressing room, his hands coming out of his pockets. Clary faced the mirror, pulling her hair around from her back. Raphael glanced down at where the zip was, around the middle of her back and paused for a second, before tugging up the zip. His fingers lightly touched her back as they went up, sending shivers down her spine. They lingered slightly at the top, near her shoulders before he pulled away. Clary noticed his gaze lazily work down her body before he met her eyes in the mirror.

They held eye contact in a breath of silence, before Raphael gave her the smallest of smiles that somehow conveyed a lot of emotion.

"I presume you're going to buy it?" he asked, snapping his eyes away from hers.

"I don't know. Wait a second," Clary said, bringing her arm back to get the price tag. The string was long enough that it came into her view, flashing the $115 red sticker at her.

"Oh, I can't," said Clary quietly.

"Sure you can."

"I can't ask you to buy this, it's way too expensive."

"Consider it as a gift. When is your birthday?"

"In August."

"Yeah, an almost four-month late birthday gift," he said, smiling.

"No, it's fine. It's just a dr-," Clary started to say.

"I'm buying it," he stated firmly.

Clary gave him a look that conveyed both bewilderment and exasperation, but he simply shot her an amused grin and left, closing the curtains behind him. She changed out of quickly, slipping on her own clothes. Raphael was already at the counter, getting the items scanned.

"They use the same payment system here?" she asked, placing the dress in front of the cashier.

"They do. It's much easier to follow a set system than come up with a whole new one," Raphael answered.

"Cash or card?" the werewolf boy asked in a drawling low voice.

"Card," Raphael said, pulling out a black credit card. The cashier's eyes perceptibly widened as he saw the card, and he scrambled into a straighter posture. She glanced at Raphael, and she noticed a slight smirk on his face. She regarded the card once more and noticed the flashy "platinum" engraving.

So he wasn't lying about having a lot of money. Clary thought. Her immediate reaction to equate this to his entitled behaviour, but it was gone as quickly as he had come. Not that he didn't act entitled, but that stemmed from his own personality, rather than his money. Raphael peered sideways at her, and shot her a quizzical expression, and she realised she had been staring at him. She shook her head and glanced down at the tiled floor as he took the bags from the cashier.

"What would you like to do now hermosa?" he asked.

"I don't know, I'm usually at home by 11pm," she replied. "Also, don't call me that."

"What, hermosa?" He smirked.

"Yeah, hermosa," she said. "I'm not even sure what it means."

"It means beautiful," His eyes were twinkling with mirth.

"Okay, definitely stop calling me that," she said in a displeasing tone.

"If you say so, hermosa." He chuckled, earning an elbow in his stomach by Clary.

Raphael took her to a little area on the bottom floor. It was sort of like a garden, but it contained flowers and plants unknown to Clary, and hazy lilac smoke drifted above them. There was a flowing fountain in the middle of the circular room, the water coming out of a reddish tint, and bubbles floated around on the surface. The two of them were sitting on a bench, the bags at their feet and sipping on drinks. He had gotten her a smoothie, after much refusing and insisting, and had gotten another unfamiliar animal's blood for himself. (Turns out the vampire version of Boost – Bloodst, could still make a decent Mango Magic - bloodless if requested).

"Do you come here often?" she asked, interrupting the sounds of multiple night birds around them.

"Not really, maybe once a month," he replied, after finishing off the last of his drink.

"Oh, that's cool," she said, unsure what else to say. She placed down her drink, and got up, walking past the fountain to an interesting plant that had caught her eye. It was a shade of the darkest of blues, almost to the point where it was black, but there were a million tiny white dots splattered across the petals and they all joined in the middle in a circle of white, like stars painted against the night sky, revolving around the full moon. Clary absentmindedly cupped one of the flowers in her hand, drawn in by its magnificence.

"That's a pretty flower," Raphael was next to her, his eyes trained on Clary as she looked up at him, drawing away from the plant.

Clary stared at him, wondering how his eyes could possibly be so dark and yet so capturing.

Wait, what? Her mind stopped for a second, trying to process her new and unexpected reaction to Raphael. Internally declaring that the exhaustion of the last few days was catching up to her, Clary was about to suggest heading back to the hotel, before Raphael cut her off, moving closer to her until she could feel her heartbeat hiking up.

"Raphael-" she began, but he started again but he shushed her, without a hint of amusement crossing his expression. He leaned down, until his lips were mere inches from hers. Clary's breath hitched, and she couldn't tell if it was in fear or anticipation.

Everything around them was stilled and it was like the universe had ordered that nothing can breathe, in the space between the two of them. But Raphael shifted until his lips were right next to her ear, his warm breath sending waves of shivers down Clary's body, as he whispered with a voice that was so incredibly low.

"Your hair is a mess."

Clary snapped out of her hallucinatory-like daze and pushed away Raphael, glaring at him with all her rage concentrated into her fiery gaze. He, meanwhile, was doubled over in laughter, unable to meet her eyes or talk to her coherently. She was frustrated, both at herself and Raphael, for more reasons than she cared to consider right now, and she really, just wanted to sleep.

Shooting him one more deathly glare, Clary swivelled around, picked up her bags, and started making her way back to where they had left the motorcycle. Raphael finally stopped laughing and jogged to catch up to Clary, with an amused grin still gracing his expression.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, chill," he said hurriedly, his tone barely reflecting his apology.

Clary did not even acknowledge him, she simply kept walking. Raphael had lost his grin now, and he just sighed.

"You are so stubborn," he muttered, and noticing that Clary was still ignoring him, he continued. "I don't understand why you're so mad, hermosa. Did me being so close make you feel something?"

At that, Clary finally reacted, as Raphael had hoped she would. She paused and sighed, mustering the energy to look up at him.

"You are not worth my time and energy, Raphael. I'm just annoyed that I have to spend the next week with someone as immature and infuriating as you. I wish I had another option," Clary said fiercely, pretending not to notice how his expression flickered at her words.

"You do have other options," Raphael snapped back. "You are no angel either Clary, and my patience runs thin around you and your stubborn behaviour. You know, one would think that you would be grateful that I am offering you free shelter and food and that I haven't left you as prey for my clan. Honestly Clary, if you hate me so much, you can go back to the institute where your golden boy is."

With that, it was like a door had slammed shut in Clary's face and locked off with a key. Raphael's entire demeanour closed off, and he increased his pace. Clary could only stare as his tense shoulders, and his clenched fists, her mind in a state of confusion that could only be solved by one person.


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