Over the next few weeks, they get closer to each other.
Simon comes to terms with the process, with the intensity of the visions, of having Raphael around him all the time, like a shadow. Or an odd cat.
Raphael relieves him of the pain, if only for a few hours, enough for him to eat, drink and rest.
Simon hears before he sees, the flapping of wings, the gust of wind that moves his hair, and the warm touch on his forehead.
"Raphael," Simon murmurs, relieved.
"Yes?" Raphael answers, sitting on the bed beside Simon, who's lying down on it.
"Nothing. I was just acknowledging your presence." Simon laughs dryly, and then turns his head to look away from Raphael. Something inside him has changed, but he doesn't know what. His heart beats faster, his stomach clenches unwantedly, his fingers tremble, his skin tingles - but not all the time. It's only when his guardian angel is in the room.
"Are you alright?" Raphael asks, reaching a hand to his forehead. Simon's whole body shakes, just slightly, and his breathing hitches, though Raphael doesn't notice. He never does.
In fact, the angel turns his palm, and strokes Simon's cheek with the back of his hand. He keeps moving his hand, down to his neck, all whilst Simon keeps utterly still and his chest hardly moves when he breathes.
When Raphael reaches down lower, Simon's hand shoots up automatically, catching the angel's wrist in a vice grip.
"What do you think you're doing?" Simon asks, turning to face Raphael. The angel doesn't blush, but he looks away, clearly embarrassed.
"Checking your temperature." he answers.
Simon would say something, but he's too tired, so he just sighs and lets go of the angel's wrist.
"How long is this going to last?" Simon breaks the silence. "This - break."
The prophet looks up at Raphael's face just in time to see it darken. His eyes harden and his jaw sets, and it's so slight, most people wouldn't notice, but Simon and Raphael are bound by something out of comprehension, so Simon notices.
"I don't know. Not this time." Raphael's voice is grim and strained, and Simon gets the idea that he's hiding something.
"What does that mean?" Simon sits up, leaning on his elbows. Raphael looks so beautiful like this, he thinks, when the golden afternoon light softens his features, turns his hair lighter and his eyes brighter. His eyes have a golden tone to them too.
Simon swallows his thoughts whole, represses them to the end of his mind, where not even the tendrils of consciousness can reach them.
"I can't tell you." is all Raphael offers, and Simon doesn't press any further, because he knows that if he does the archangel will leave, and he doesn't want that.
Simon merely runs his fingertips over Raphael's arm, skating the pads of his fingers over the olive skin. Raphael looks at Simon in curiosity, and Simon tries not to blush.
"Stay," he chokes, and Raphael tilts his head.
"What do you mean?"
"The night. I'm saying you should stay the night."
Simon doesn't know what overcomes him, but after such a wrecking week, he needs warmth, comfort, something to come back home to. Raphael's hands were warm to the touch, so he tugs on his arm.
"Angels do not sleep." Raphael explains, trying to understand.
"Then don't." Simon looks at him almost pleadingly, and he'd be ashamed if only his brain were functioning properly. "Just - stay."
Raphael was warned about this, about how prophets could become dependent on their archangel. He wants to pull away and leave, but he can't find the strength to look away from the brown eyes in front of him.
"Fine."
Simon's heart flutters against his ribs like a bird trapped in a cage, and he reprimands himself.
What are you getting excited about? It's Raphael.
Exactly.
The prophet sits up when Raphael sits beside him in bed. "You are not sleeping in jeans." he declares, and gets up. Raphael makes a sound of protest, but it dies when Simon throws him a pair of sweatpants from his wardrobe.
"But -" Raphael tries, but Simon raises his eyebrows and looks at him insistently.
"Just wear them."
Simon averts his gaze when Raphael, who's got absolutely no regard for the rules of social conduct, decided to change right there on the bed.
But he can't deny he shoots furtive glances every now and then. His legs are long, slender, strong, corded with muscle. Simon then looks at his own lanky, skinny legs and his self-esteem drops by a lot.
"I'm done now." Raphael announces after a few minutes.
"Much better," Simon says, and moves to pick up his jeans and throw them over the back of the chair sitting in his room, piled to the top with dirty clothes not clean enough to keep in the closet, yet not dirty enough to put to wash.
"Simon," Raphael says, "why did you look away when I was changing?"
"I -" Simon is at a loss for words. He's never had to deal with someone like Raphael, one of the wisest creatures on this planet, yet one of the least experienced. In everything. "To not embarrass you."
Raphael tilts his head, and at that moment, he reminds Simon of a confused puppy. "Why would I be embarrassed?"
Simon's in despair. "I - look, it's just something humans do, alright?"
"Oh." Something flashes in Raphael's eyes. "I thought maybe you deemed me not beautiful enough to be looked at without clothes on."
Simon's taken aback, because how could this magnificent creature ever believe he isn't beautiful.
"No," Simon murmurs, his voice dropping dangerously low. "never that."
He reaches a hand up to Raphael's face, and props his fingers under his chin, so he can turn the angel's head in such a way they're looking at each other in the eyes.
And now, Simon's heart completely stops beating.
He isn't used to such proximity, such closeness, such mesmerising eyes. They're eyes deep like the ocean, but an ocean of gold and copper. His eyes are kilometres of desert sand that's burning with heavenly fire. Simon's not even sure Raphael's eyes are real, and he leans in closer, to look even farther into them, to see if there's anything beyond the misty plains of onyx.
"Simon," Raphael warns, but his voice shakes.
"Raphael," Simon counters, voice wavering. "You are definitely beautiful."
They're so close to each other Simon can count the small little scars and marks on his face, the tiny little bumps on his nose and cheeks. Simon can calculate the curve of his lips, the exact shade of red his cheeks flush. Their breaths are mingling but they're barely there, and Simon's still not sure this is real, or happening, or what's taken over them…
The shrill sound of Simon's phone ringing brings them back to Earth. Simon jumps away, and reaches to answer the phone, feeling disappointment coil in his stomach.
But disappointment at what?
"Hey Simon!" a girl's voice says over the phone.
"Clary! I haven't heard from you in a while! How are you?" Simon smiles fondly at the sound of his childhood best friend's voice.
"I'm great! Jace is...what on earth is my boyfriend doing?" She asks herself, and there's some muffled sounds and voices in the background, something about 'No, you can't somersault out of the window,' and 'Because you'll die!'.
"I am surrounded by idiots." Clary confirms, sighing.
"I get the feeling."
"So, how have you been? I haven't heard much from you lately." Clary says.
Oh, that's normal you see, I'm apparently a prophet and angels won't stop talking to me and making me write it down for hours on end also I have an archangel attached to me who also happens to be super hot.
"Just fine. Busy, I guess." Simon lies.
"Hey, do you mind us going over tomorrow? I miss you, and so does Izzy." Clary says.
Simon's eyes widen, because he doesn't know how long the block on his mind will last. His hands sweat, he's about to say no, but -
His eyes fall on the picture beside his bed, the one he took with Clary when they went skiing three years ago, and he realises how much he's missed her. He throws caution to the wind, and agrees.
"Sure! I miss you too. But...Is Alec coming?" Simon asks, nervous.
"Yeah, why?"
"We don't exactly...get along."
"It'll be fine! I have to go now, see you tomorrow!" Clary says, as energetic as ever. "Love ya."
"Love you too, Clary." says Simon, and hangs up.
He puts the phone back on his bedside table, and lies down once more, sighing.
"Who is that person, 'Clary'? Is she your lover?" Raphael asks out of the blue, curious.
"What? No! She's my best friend since we were kids 's all." Simon explains, looking up at Raphael, who's looming over him.
"Oh."
Simon reaches a hand up, and pulls Raphael down beside him by his neck, making him lie down beside the prophet. Raphael makes a little 'Oof!' sound when he hits the mattress.
"I need you to do me a favour," Simon states, looking at the bed, pulling at the sheets. If he was so confident earlier, where has it all gone to?
"Anything." Raphael is still so insistent, and over-the-top about everything. All his words sound more powerful and everything he says is more intense. Simon knows it's true.
"Some friends of mine are coming over tomorrow. And…" he trails off.
"And?" Raphael inquires.
"And you have to - uh - hide." Simon explains, feeling his cheeks heat up.
"Hide? Why?" Raphael props himself up on one elbow. This is what Simon wanted, casual talks with Raphael as the light died outside, turning the room dark blue.
"Because...well, they don't believe in monsters, or demons, or angels, or anything like that. And having you here, well, they'd be pretty terrified, and I don't want -"
"So you're saying you're ashamed of me?" Raphael frowns, and sits up. Simon sits with him, reaching out to cup his hand, to pull him closer, to make him stay, or understand, or something in between.
"No - I - I'm just -" Simon is at a loss for words, something that rarely happens, but as Raphael tries pulling away his brain can't function properly.
Over the last weeks, their bond has become irremediably close, the knot that ties them together getting tighter, the rope getting shorter, making them gravitate towards each other. Simon began to miss his angel when he was away, and to cherish their moments together. Raphael yearned to see his prophet, and starved for the sight of him.
Raphael knows it's unhealthy, unnatural for an archangel and a prophet to love each other like this - eros love. They shouldn't even love each other, just need each other in a superficial way, maybe even philia or agape. But not eros.
Raphael isn't even sure he loves Simon, just that he needs him close at all times, that without him he is a man lost at sea.
"You need me to leave," declares Raphael, a hurt look in his eyes. Simon is shaking his head, made emotional by the constant shifts in pace and the feeling gnawing at his insides to pull this being towards him and never let go.
"No - that isn't -" Simon tries, seemingly drowning in quicksand, every move he makes pulling him deeper, choking him.
"Then leave I shall." Raphael states, ripping away from Simon. Simon isn't crying, but he's getting angry at himself for making Raphael upset.
The angel stands, closes his eyes, and disappears.
Simon is chastising himself when the feather lands on the empty pillow on the bed.
…
Simon rolls around in bed, and feels the other side of the bed is warm. He just feels strange at the lack of a body beside him. His eyes open a crack, a fraction, just enough to let the light through. The bed is empty.
He gets up and out, feeling like a bag of garbage. His mouth tastes like morning breath and disappointment, and something is compressing his chest and rising in his throat, something similar to a mix of sadness and unquenchable yearning.
It's odd, this dependency they've created in such a short period of time. Simon needs Raphael close to him all the time, like a drug, like a lifeline.
He brushes his teeth and gets dressed like he doesn't want to, like there's a weight on him dragging his body down.
When the doorbell rings, he needs to stop himself from sighing.
"Simon!" Clary exclaims, throwing herself onto Simon, putting her arms around his neck.
"It's eleven am. You should be killed." Simon says, and fake groans, but Clary just laughs louder, her fiery red hair getting into Simon's face (he cherishes it, secretly). In her ear, he whispers, "I missed you too."
When she finally lets go, the rest come in. Jace, with his gold hair and cold, gold eyes that jump at the chance to underestimate and tease Simon; Alec, with his own way of looking down at people, and acting really high-and-mighty (though if you get him to loosen up he's a really sweet guy); Isabelle, lively as a dancing flame, and dangerous as a poisonous snake; and Magnus, as eccentric as eccentric can get and always seemingly forgetting Simon's name.
"Hey," Jace says cooly, and shakes Simon's hand. Alec doesn't want to, at first, but Isabelle looks at him with insistent eyes and he does it, muttering a small 'Hi,' under his breath. Simon smiles as he screams internally. Magnus does shake his hand, closing the door behind him, grinning as he says, "Hello, Sherwin.". Simon would say something, but instead, he chooses to just force himself to smile. Finally, Isabelle hugs him tightly, and Simon wraps his arms around her gently, blushing slightly when she pulls away to kiss his cheek.
"Hey," she says.
"Hi."
Clary pulls him into a corner of the house, pressed between the table and the wall as she yells: "Make yourself at home!"
Simon yells back. "Please don't!"
"Will do!" Jace retaliates, and Simon sees him put his feet up on the white couch. The prophet winces.
"Simon, look." Clary says in a hushed voice, and she puts her hand out. On her index finger there's a gold ring, inlaid with a design of strange runes Simon has never seen before.
"I don't get it." Simon states. The redhead rolls her eyes but smiles excitedly, glancing at Jace before looking back at Simon. He looks between the hand and Jace a few times, before it clicks in his head. A look of recognition flashes in his eyes, and Clary catches it, smiling at Simon in a full-toothed grin.
"He prop-" he drops his voice when Clary shushes him. "He proposed?"
"Yeah,"
"No way! I'm so happy for you, Clary!" Simon says genuinely, then pulls her into a tight hug, smiling too as she laughs into his ear.
"Yep! But don't tell anyone, okay?" Clary says, and sticks out her pinkie finger once they draw apart. He takes it.
"Promise."
When they get back to the others, Magnus is sprawled above one of the sofas like a cat, stroking Alec's face and moving the hair out of it below; Jace is lying on the other sofa, playing with his phone and Isabelle is sitting in the armchair, speaking with Alec and Magnus.
"Okay, can everyone just sit like normal people, please?" Simon says, already frustrated. He loves them all to pieces (well, maybe not all. Just Isabelle and Clary. Jace, Alec Magnus are tolerated. Actually, only Magnus and Alec are tolerated. He just stands Jace for Clary's sake), but they're all a real pain in the ass sometimes.
With a groan, they all sit normally.
"So what have you been doing Simon?" Isabelle asks, leaning forward. "We haven't heard from you in months."
"Still writing trashy poems I suspect." Jace quips, for which he gets hit with a cushion on the head by Clary.
"Still struggling to pay rent." Alec says dismissively, and Isabelle stares daggers at him.
"I'm still writing," Simon says, struggling to not throttle Jace. Or Alec. Or himself.
With the excuse of a bathroom break and giving them all coffee.
He loves Clary, but sometimes the rest can be a bit aggravating, if not hurtful.
In the bathroom, he closes the door, and sighs heavily. He washes his face, and then sees the black bags under his eyes. Clary whispered whether he was okay in his ear when she hugged him, and now he understands why.
He looks like a picture of death. His face is drained, pale, and above the black bags beneath his eyes the whites of them are red, from the lack of rest. His hair is greasy, and he looks like he hasn't showered in a week, even though he just did two hours ago.
As he opens the bathroom door, something pulls him back by the arm.
"Raphael -" Simon exclaims, before the archangel's hand is pressing against his mouth, shoving him against the wall.
"Simon," Raphael's tone of voice is urgent and insistent, but Simon doesn't seem to hear it, far too overjoyed with the fact that he's back.
"Raphael, where -" Simon tries once his mouth is released.
"Simon." Raphael tries again, and it works. Simon calms down, his eyes turning hard now.
"What? You think you can just disappear and come back whenever you want, no warning, nothing -"
"Simon Lewis, listen to me." Raphael says in that tone of voice, the one that sends shivers down Simon's spine every time, the deep one that he feels in every cell of his body. "Who are these people?"
Simon frowns at the question, but answers anyway. "My friends."
"They can't be." Raphael says. "And how do you know Magnus Bane?"
And how do you know him? Simon thinks, but doesn't say it. "He's Alec's boyfriend, why?"
"Oh." Raphael says, with a look that says that it all falls into place. For him. Simon still understands nothing.
"Raphael, what do you -" Simon asks again, but Raphael just leans in closer, almost pressing their foreheads together, and Simon is breathless.
"I need you to do me a favour." Raphael whispers, and Simon nods, swallowing thickly around the forming knot in his throat.
"Let me explain this one thing, and you cannot speak until the end of it, okay? Or make noise."
Simon is dumbfounded by the odd request, and takes a deep breath when Raphael pulls away.
"Simon, look. Do you see your friends?" Raphael says, opening the bathroom door and leaning out of it, pulling Simon with him.
Simon nods.
"Look at the redhead girl, and the others."
They're all standing around the table, hot mugs of coffee in hand.
"Look closer." Raphael insists, but Simon still doesn't understand.
"Look closer." The angel presses his fingers to Simon's temple, and suddenly, Simon sees.
In Clary's jeans, in two straps on her legs, is a gun on each side, along with a knife. In Alec's belt, hidden under the hoodie, are more guns. In Isabelle's leather jacket, an arrange of throwing knives and daggers, and in her hair, hidden in a hairpin, a throwing star. It's the same for Jace - guns in his belt, alongside silver knives and a bottle filled with a liquid - holy water.
Simon opens his mouth to gasp, but Raphael pulls him back into the bathroom.
"They're hunters." Raphael explains. "They chase down vampires. Monsters. All sorts of hellish beings. Even angels."
"No -" Simon says, breaking the silence he said he'd maintain, completely disbelieving, even though he's seen the evidence. "Clary, she's - she's always been afraid of weapons - I -"
"Monsters are real." Raphael states. "It's not just me. It's everything - demons included."
Even if Simon believes in angels now, he hadn't thought about demons, or any other supernatural creature.
"Demons?" Simon asks, wide-eyed.
"Yes, demons. I need you to remember that, Simon. It's very important. Understood?" Raphael says, intensely.
"Yes."
"Good." Raphael releases the grip he has on Simon's forearms.
"I can't interfere now, but you must get them out of here as soon as possible." Raphael says, and Simon nods, throat dry.
"I'll be back." The archangel states. "You told me to warn you."
"I did." Simon agrees, nodding. It's all too much, his head is spinning.
"Do not miss me too dearly when I depart - not this time, or my heart will ache for you too."
Simon is so awestruck he forgets to say anything when Raphael leaves.
His friends are murderers, and that's confusing, but what Raphael has said is even more.
Is it a love confession? Is it courtesy? Simon can't stop thinking about the words, but he swallows down the yearning in his stomach, and turns to face his friends.
"Where were you?" Magnus asks.
"Obviously shitting his pants at my awesomeness." Jace replies for him.
"That is not a word." Simon replies flatly.
"It is."
"Not."
"Is."
"Not."
"Is…" Jace replies in a sing-song voice.
…
When they leave, Simon sighs in relief and shuts the door. He cleans up after everybody, and then sits on the couch. His phone is still playing music faintly in the distance.
He turns around, and Raphael is standing there, arms crossed over his chest.
"They've been here the whole day." Raphael states, frowning.
"Yes well," Simon replies tiredly. "I missed them."
"Simon, you cannot throw caution to the wind like that -" Raphael starts, but Simon walks towards him, and takes his hand.
"And you cannot worry so much." he mumbles.
Simon takes Raphael's hands, and loops them behind his neck. He puts his hands on Raphael's hips, and starts swaying them slowly.
"What are you doing?" Raphael asks, but he doesn't pull away.
"Dancing. I like this song." Simon replies easily. He's giddy at the fact that he's an inch taller than Raphael.
They don't speak after that - not about the events of earlier today, Simon's friends or the words Raphael said in the bathroom. They sway to the music. Simon mumbles the lyrics under his breath, looking into Raphael's eyes.
We don't have to be ordinary
Make your best mistakes
'Cause we don't have the time to be sorry
So baby be the life of the party…
"I'm sorry." Simon whispers, just high enough Raphael can hear.
"It's okay. I know." Raphael replies, and then they keep dancing. The city glitters behind them, through the windows, and the music dies behind them, but they're still dancing. When it ends, Simon pulls Raphael to his chest, resting his chin on the archangel's head.
"I need you to be strong for me, Simon." Raphael pleads, in a tone of voice Simon's never heard before.
The prophet has a lot of questions, but he doesn't want to ask them, or ruin the moment. "Okay."
Simon presses a kiss to the top of Raphael's head, and Raphael presses one to the side of Simon's throat, gently, it's almost not there.
"I know you will be strong," Raphael whispers. "My prophet."
Simon feels the knot get tighter and tighter and the rope get shorter and shorter.