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Simon is nervously playing with his pencil, his Spanish book open on a random page as he pretends to memorize the words. His heart is hammering in his chest with anxiety. He doesn’t like meeting new people, and certainly not in a context where they know more about something than Simon. He never in a million years would’ve agreed to be tutored if it hadn’t been for the painful F on his last couple of Spanish tests and the disappointed look in his mother’s eyes (after all, his father had been of Cuban descent and Simon shouldn’t have neglected his Spanish after he passed away).
So now here he is, stuck in the library after school, waiting for someone he doesn’t even know to sit down and tutor him.
There aren’t many people in the library. Clary and Isabelle are a few tables down, bent over books and notes. They normally study at home, but Simon had convinced Clary to stay in the library with him in case his tutor didn’t show or he got an anxiety attack or did something awkward that would embarrass him for eternity. Other than them, there are a few students roaming between the shelves and flipping through books. Nobody seems to be paying attention to him and how much of a loner he must look like like this.
Suddenly, when Simon is busy scanning the library, the chair across from him is pulled back and someone plops down on it, smacking down a book on the table.
Simon jumps and looks at the person, who is smirking at him.
“Hola,” the boy says.
“Uh – hi,” Simon stutters, already feeling his cheeks burn up.
The boy eyes him up and down, then says: “Si hubiera sabido que eras así de lindo...”
“What?”
The boy shakes his head.
“Nothing. I’m Raphael,” he introduces himself, reaching out his arm to shake Simon’s hand.
“Simon,” Simon says.
“I figured. You’re the one needing tutoring, right?”
“Correct.”
“Cool. Let’s begin.”
~~
To say Raphael is distracting would be an understatement.
Honestly, Simon should’ve asked for a new tutor. One that isn’t so damn attractive in quite literally everything he does, ranging from writing something down to easily slipping into Spanish to just sitting there. This really isn’t helping him with the whole ‘failing Spanish’ situation.
But Simon has always been someone who would rather please his desires than do what’s best for him, and right now, he desires to take in Raphael’s beauty as often as he can.
They’re at the library, at the same table they always sit at. Raphael has casually propped his feet up the table and Simon notices the laces of one of his combat boots are untied. He’s flipping through a magazine, flipping the pages obnoxiously loud to test Simon’s concentration on the Spanish book he’s reading.
Joke’s on him though, because Simon’s lost his concentration at least an hour ago.
It’s weird, Simon thinks. He’d never seen Raphael around school before he started tutoring him, but now it seems like they’re crossing paths more often than not. Raphael’s captain of the lacrosse team and Simon thought he’d completely ignore him outside of the environment of the library, but he makes sure to greet Simon in Spanish every time he passes his locker, the same grin plastered on his face every single time. He always expects Simon to greet him back as well, even slows down until Simon stammers a reply and then catches up with his team mates.
And not only is Raphael a nice jock, he’s also an incredibly patient tutor.
Simon has always struggled with language. The letters just seem to morph and shift on the paper until they’re forming completely different words, impossible for Simon to make anything of. Instead of growing impatient or annoyed like Simon had expected him to, Raphael would just pull up his chair to sit next to Simon and struggle through the words with him, tracing them with his finger and pronouncing them for Simon when he’s getting frustrated. Raphael told him one of his little brothers has dyslexia too and he’s the only one in their household patient enough to help him with his homework.
Today though, today Simon isn’t reading anything. Raphael seemed in a bad mood when he entered the library a few hours prior and had just instructed Simon to read a few chapters of the book he has to write a report on by the end of the semester. Then he’d plopped down on the chair opposite of him and had started reading the magazine he’s still reading now.
Simon wonders if Raphael really is interested in the latest fashion on the runway, which would give his personality yet another layer. Jock, tutor, big brother and fashion expert? Is Raphael Santiago even real?
To be fair, he does always dress pretty nicely. Simon bets he has a whole collection of different jackets at home, all as expensive and nice as the one he’s wearing today. It’s not necessary a bold choice with the plain black leather, but it looks expensive nevertheless. It fits around his shoulders perfectly, like it was tailored just for him. He’s wearing it with a plain grey shirt and black jeans. Nothing like what the normal jock would usually wear (honestly, Simon sits next to a lacrosse player during math and he’s often in sweatpants and a sweater, smelling of sweat and hormones) but he’s grateful for the nice sense of fashion Raphael seems to have. The fact that he also knows what deodorant and cologne are, is a nice touch as well.
“Estás mirando,” Raphael mutters. Simon’s cheeks turn pink.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. Raphael looks up from his magazine, his eyebrows raised.
“You understood what I just said?” He asks surprised.
Simon shrugs.
“Yeah. Didn’t think I actually pay attention when you tutor me, did you?” He says smugly. Raphael blinks at him, looking like he’s just seen a ghost. Simon doesn’t blame him, considering the fact he’s never been smug with Raphael before.
Then Raphael recomposes himself and nods at the book.
“How’s it coming along?”
“Slowly. Can we please take a break?”
Raphael throws his magazine on the table.
“Fine,” he says, already pushing himself away from the table to stand. Simon shoots out his hand to keep him there.
“Wait,” he says, ignoring how Raphael glances at his hand wrapped around his wrist.
“You seem annoyed today. Everything alright?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Come on, Raphael. We’re stuck with each other for a few hours each week, so the least you can do is be honest with me. Am I annoying you?”
“What? No! You’re not annoying, Simon,” Raphael says quickly. Simon ignores the feeling of validation settling in his chest, flattered at how quick Raphael was to dismiss his assumptions.
“It’s just – okay…” Raphael sits back down with a sigh and rubs the back of his neck.
“Look, you probably don’t even care. It’s silly. But the Vampires have lost every game this season and they’re all seriously doubting my leadership. They’re looking for someone else to be the captain.”
The Vampires are their school lacrosse team. It isn’t the best name – Simon had voted for the Wolves when they were deciding on a name a few years ago – but it is an overall good team. From what he’s seen of them, he knows that’s mostly because Raphael is an extremely valuable player. So it doesn’t make sense to him that they’re losing and blaming Raphael for it.
“Maybe you’ve been… distracted lately?” He offers.
Raphael huffs.
“I have. I’ve been skipping out on practice to – to tutor you.”
Simon’s heart starts hammering in his chest.
“Why?” He asks. He doesn’t miss the slight blush creeping up Raphael’s face.
“Porque eres lindo y quiero pasar tiempo contigo,” he says, so fast Simon can barely make out some words he can understand, let alone understand everything.
“What? I’m not that good in Spanish yet, Raph.”
“Because,” Raphael breathes, “Mr. Lightwood begged me to tutor you because he doesn’t want you to fail.”
Simon knows that’s not even close to what he actually said, but he decides to drop it.
“Maybe we could combine it,” he offers.
“I could come watch you practice on the bleachers and you could come over every twenty minutes or so to answer my questions. That way you can tutor me and win games.”
A slow smile spreads across Raphael’s face as he thinks about it. It’s a really nice smile, and Simon is proud that he put it there.
“That’s actually not a bad idea at all. How about we test it out tomorrow? I have practice right after school.”
“I’ll be there,” Simon grins.
“Awesome!” Raphael smiles. He immediately looks ten times happier.
“Now, tell me why the protagonist thinks her sister is plotting to kill her.”
Simon grunts, but complies.
~~
It’s actually quite nice to have a change of scenery. Sure, Simon has to squint to see anything because of the bright sunlight, but he’s just happy to be out of that dusty library for once. And watching Raphael train – well, that’s just a nice bonus.
When the first twenty minutes have passed and Raphael jogs over to him to ask if he has any questions, Simon is too embarrassed to admit he hasn’t done anything yet because he was too busy admiring Raphael on the field. He just looks so good in those shorts and lacrosse tee. Raphael just rolls his eyes at him when Simon stutters a question he already knows the answer to and playfully ruffles his hair before returning to his team.
Simon tries to focus, he really does, but every time he thinks he finally got the hang of it, Raphael will shout something to his team mates or laugh and his head will snap up again to look at him.
By the end of practice, when Raphael is all sweaty and worn out, he still finds the time to sit next to Simon and help him struggle through his Spanish homework for another hour. Simon really does not deserve this boy. He makes sure to let Raphael know that.
“I’m serious!” Simon states when Raphael nudges his shoulder and tells him to shut up.
“How can I ever repay you for this great deed?”
“Okay, for one: stop being so dramatic. Secondly…” Raphael tilts his head, lets his eyes wander over Simon’s body.
“Come to see the game tomorrow night.”
“The game?”
“Yes, we’re playing against the Angels, which is, by the way, a ridiculously narcissistic name for a team, and I want you there. Please?”
Well, it’s not like Simon has some wild plans for Friday night anyway. And how can he possibly say no to those eyes? So he feels himself nod and Raphael offers him a smile brighter than the sun before excusing himself to take a shower.
Fuck. Simon is so fucked.
~~
Raphael’s back number is 14, which is, coincidentally, Simon’s lucky number. He keeps his eyes on him the entire game, noticing all the small things he does. For example, when he’s scanning the field to see a way to get the ball, he taps his lacrosse stick to his shin three times before moving. He also makes big gestures, motioning for his team mates to do what he says. When they score, he bumps his helmet to the player who made the goal and taps him on the side of the head.
The Vampires win from the Angels with ease and Raphael is carried to the locker room on the shoulders of his team mates, accompanied by loud cheers and shouts. Simon is sure he’s the one cheering the loudest.
After the game, when everyone is just talking on the field and Simon is standing a bit awkwardly alone, Raphael comes to meet him. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a lacrosse hoodie, his hair curly from the shower he just had.
“Hey!” He says cheerfully. He slaps Simon on the shoulder as a way of greeting him.
“Hi, Raph. I’m under the impression that you might have won the game.”
Raphael laughs.
“Yeah, we totally did! Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me? I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Raphael says with a small smile.
“I think you might be my lucky charm.”
Simon starts blushing when Raphael winks at him, but before he can stumble a reply, Raphael is pulled into a group of cheerleaders to praise him for their victory and Simon is left standing alone.
~~
Simon is stuffing his books into his locker that Monday and jumps when he closes it and Raphael is leaning against the locker next to his.
“Hola, mi amuleto de la suerte,” he says cheekily. Simon doesn’t know exactly what that means, but he’s pretty sure it’s a term of endearment.
“Hola, hermoso,” Simon replies easily. He enjoys the way Raphael’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Then he clears his throat, shifts against the locker and says: “So, uh. I was thinking…”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Simon grins. Raphael punches him on the shoulder.
“Anyway. So, as you may know, prom is coming up. And uh – I was wondering… would you – would you like to come with me?”
Raphael’s cheeks are bright red. Simon is pretty sure his are too.
“Are you asking me out?”
“I guess I am. In fact,” Raphael says as he pulls out his lacrosse hoodie from behind his back, “I want to make it official.”
He hands the hoodie to Simon, who might grab it just a bit too eagerly.
It’s a tradition at their school that athletes will ask someone to the prom by offering them their hoodie. If the person agrees to go with them, they have to wear the hoodie for a day as some kind of proof that they’ve been asked by an athlete. Simon never thought he would be offered a hoodie, and yet here he is.
“You… you haven’t replied yet,” Raphael says. He’s nervously biting his lip and Simon is mesmerized by the movement. So before he really knows what he’s doing, he surges forward and kisses him.
Raphael loses his balance in surprise, but Simon keeps him steady by pushing him against the locker. Raphael melts into the kiss, raises his hand to cup the back of Simon’s neck. He deepens the kiss for just a moment, long enough for Simon to long for more.
“I guess that’s a yes,” he says breathlessly against Simon’s lips. Simon makes an affirmative sound at the back of his throat before catching his lips with his own once more.