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As far as Simon knew, everyone was born with a compass on their forearm, just below the wrist. Some of them were colored with swirling patterns, some of them were plain, some of them looked ancient and no one knew why, they just accepted it. The compass pointed towards their soulmate leading to the belief that their life’s sole purpose was to find their soulmate. Most people, including Simon, thought it was bullshit. There were other things to be done, things to be discovered, worlds to be explored. And why should they be confined to one person? What if their soulmate is a jerk who cares for nothing? What if their soul mate is already dead? What if you never found your soul mate?
Simon thought it was bullshit because he was in love with his best friend, Clary Fray whom he had grown up with and known his whole life. The only problem was that the compass on his forearm never pointed at her, no matter how much he wished for it too. All it did was point towards the old battered building that was supposedly a hotel.
Hotel Dumort.
Simon sometimes went there, circling the building a few times but never daring to go inside. Why would his soulmate live in there? Why would anyone’s soulmate live there? No one could live there, no one had seen a single soul going into the hotel so why was the compass pointing towards it?
Maybe his compass was broken. It wasn’t unheard of but the pointer on his compass pointed like it was sure of itself, the dial never fluttered not even for a second.
It was broken, he had decided and tried to accept it.
He failed to.
That drink.
That stupid drink had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
No, his stupid ego to prove that he was something had gotten him into this mess.
Stupid, he thought furiously because he couldn’t actually say it.
Because he was a rat.
And he was in Hotel Dumort.
There were people, no vampires, in that hotel. So many vampires. He wondered which one of them was his soulmate. His soulmate was dead. Undead, he reminded himself but dead all the same. He was terrified and intrigued at the same time. A part of him wanted to escape the hotel but a part of him wanted to turn back into his human self and look for his soulmate. Look for her or him and shout about how unfair it was. How unfair all of it was.
He couldn’t have a dead soulmate.
How could he have a dead soulmate?
Simon didn’t understand what was happening to him. He wanted to drink blood, he was starving for it. He sat in his room, his head in his hands, panting heavily. The food his mum left on his bed was forgotten. He just wanted blood.
And he knew where to get it.
Simon had circled the Hotel building about five times before a figure stopped infront of him so suddenly Simon jumped in surprise. It took him a second to realize that his arm was out to strike the person standing infront of him and the person had grabbed his arm.
‘Easy,’ the boy said.
Under the moonlight and the faded light from the hotel building Simon could make out the features of the boy. He was dark; dark-skinned with black eyes looking at him with such an intensity that Simon found it hard to look into them. His dark curls were messily swept across his forehead. Simon swallowed.
‘I-’ Simon started before his gaze fell on his forearm.
His compass was pointing at the boy infront of him.
Simon gasped and wretched his arm free from the boy’s grip. He circled the boy, feeling foolish but it didn’t matter, not now. Not when he had finally found him. His soulmate, who happened to be a vampire.
Who had possibly turned him into a vampire.
‘What,’ the boy growled, clearly showing his impatience. ‘Are. You. Doing?’
‘You’re my soulmate,’ Simon said before everything went blank.
Blood.
Thrist.
So much thrist.
The blood wasn’t enough.
It was never enough.
Why wasn’t it ever enough?
When Simon came to his senses, he looked around to find everyone staring at him. Clary, Jace, the Lightwoods, Magnus Bane and-
And that boy. His soulmate.
‘Raphael,’ he muttered suddenly remembering his name. Raphael came towards him and helped him on his feet.
‘You remember my name,’ Raphael said quietly.
‘You’re my soul mate, ofcourse I remember your bloody name,’ Simon answered. He paused. ‘Pun unintended.’
‘I’m sure,’ Raphael’s lips curled in distaste or amusement, Simon couldn’t tell.
He remembered when he first mustered up enough courage to kiss Raphael. It was after he had decided to accept Raphael’s offer about living in Hotel Dumort. He remembered taking hold of Raphael’s shirt and pulling him close, he remembered pressing his thumb between Raphael’s eyebrows so he could stop frowning for once.
He remembered pressing his lips to Raphael’s surprisingly soft ones. He remembered the gasp Raphael let out, trying to take in the air he didn’t need. Maybe it wasn’t the air, maybe he was taking in the presence of Simon because Simon was definitely doing that. His hands were framing Raphel’s face, his thumbs stroking the other boy’s cheekbones, his jawline, trying to memorize his face with his eyes closed. They had kissed for what had felt like hours.
Maybe it was hours but Simon didn’t care, all he cared about was his soulmate.
He found that he didn’t mind if Raphael was dead or undead or whatever it was that Raphael was.
All he cared was Raphael was there and that he had found his soulmate and his compass wasn’t broken. That a part of him wasn’t broken, it was alive and it was holding him was kissing the living hell out of him.
When they broke away Raphael whispered, ‘You breath one word of this to Bane, I will end you.’
Simon just grinned and kissed him again.