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Simon has been asleep for two hours, and Raphael can't remember a time without him - without this presence in his home. First night at the Hotel, first night with a new family. Something much too familiar.
Simon will learn to view him as family. Wait. He'll learn to view the vampires as family. That includes Raphael, sad little hole in his chest, but he can't imagine Simon looking at him and thinking: family, belonging. Even after everything that has happened, even after Raphael watched Simon turn like watching his own reflection in the mirror. Everything pouring right out of him.
Raphael puts down his glass and stares at his reflection, looks at his face right up against the blood, thinks—
"How do you do it?"
Simon is standing at his door. There's - loss. On his face. Vulnerability. Simon is looking at him with vulnerability, and trust, and Raphael feels even colder. Feels even more vulnerable. Wrong, it's wrong, he has taught himself to ignore vulnerability and build up walls like reflections, but: Simon is at his door and completely trusting and Raphael doesn't understand.
"I thought you were sleeping," he says.
"Couldn't," Simon says. "I'm - I'm sorry. I'll go."
Simon walks out and the trust and vulnerability fades. Raphael sighs and aches.
"Wait," he says. "Come back."
He knows Simon can hear him. Enhanced hearing is not always a curse, except for when it is, except for when you hear things that make you ache, but...
"I'm just a bother," Simon says. "You've probably got other cool vampire business to attend to, and you should, you know, get back to that."
"It can wait. Come back."
"I... can't."
Raphael aches. Inside. Rotting. He's not sure why he's letting Simon make him feel like this; he can't remember a time without Simon's presence in his home, in his life, and Simon is making him ache. It's like - looking in a mirror and seeing someone that you don't recognize. It hurts. It hurts.
How stupid, this weakness.
"What did you mean," he says, "when you asked me that question?"
"How can you look at yourself?" Simon asks. His voice is shaking like vulnerability, like an ache. "How can you look at your reflection and not hate it? Raphael, how? In the room you gave me, there's a mirror, but every time I try to look at myself, I..."
Oh, Raphael thinks. Simon doesn't know. Simon doesn't know that when he looks at himself, he sees something different. Something abhorrent. A hate deeper than anyone can imagine.
"It takes time," Raphael lies. He is lying to Simon, because if Raphael can instill hope in him, hope that it will all get better, then he's doing something good, finally good, and the ache will go away. "I can help you, if you want."
"Yeah," Simon says faintly, words ghosting. Even with enhanced hearing, they're barely audible. "I'd... like that. Um. If you don't mind, that is."
Raphael takes Simon to his room, right up against the mirror, and whispers: "Simon, you have to see yourself in the way other people see you. Think about how Clary sees you. Think about how your family sees you."
"They probably see me as a monster," Simon says. "And - and my family, crap, I can't even tell them, I..."
"Calm down," Raphael says. "Think about... think about how I see you."
Simon looks at him. "You want me to hate myself? Good going. This is helpful."
"I don't hate you, Simon," he says, and swallows, thinks about aching again; Simon thinks that Raphael hates him and Raphael's standing in front of a mirror again, after he was turned, trying to make himself seem like something other than a monster. The familiarity of it stings.
"You don't? I'm... oh. Well. I kind of just assumed I annoyed the shit out of you and you wanted me gone."
"You do 'annoy the shit out of me', sometimes," Raphael says. "But I don't hate you. Simon, you're like..."
"Like what?"
"Like hope."