Chapter Text
There's something strange about this short, pale, and disgruntled man that makes Raphael feel some sort of way towards him. Unlike the others he had slain, Siegfried gives off a sense of comfort. Vulnerability.
Sure, they have fought to the death in pursuit of the forever damned sword. Sure, Raphael had almost lost his life and is now... Malfested, as one would say. But in the aftermath of the fight, after spending quite some time with the German boy, he couldn't help but think about him. Not as a nuisance, but more as a...
As a...
Friend? Companion?
Raphael's not so sure. He hasn't felt like this since he met his beloved daughter, Amy, in the slums. Those dull green eyes of lost innocence infatuated him, and for the first time he felt like he needed to be there for someone like the poor girl.
But little miss Amy Sorel is just a young girl who saved his life.
Siegfried Schtauffen is an adult man. Who Almost Killed Him.
So why do the feelings of when he adopted Amy also appear when he even thinks of Siegfried?
And why is it stronger and more distorted than the first time??
Is it because he has the small smile and blue eyes of softness? The voice and hair of an angel? The body and words of a hero?
Raphael thinks about his confusing feelings towards Siegfried, and when it strikes him, with the feeling of warmness covering his face, he mutters to himself the words he'd never thought he'd say:
“Dammit, I'm in love with him.”
And a frustrated fist slams the table.