Work Text:
This is a story about something as old as life itself.
It’s a story about a boy who turns eighteen, and a story about soulmates, and most importantly, as all good stories are, a story about love.
Because, for as long as our collective minds can remember, as soon as a person turns eighteen, their own red string of fate will lead them to the love of their life. Whether it’ll lead them across the street or across the world, nobody knows.
There are a few things people do know, though.
For example: it is preferred that your soulmate is of the opposite gender. It is also preferred that your soulmate is at least somewhat your own age, speaks your language or something close to it and doesn’t live all the way across the world.
That’s the theory around it.
Real life, as it turns out, is something completely different.
Clary finds her soulmate in a dark-haired girl from a wealthy family with a stick up their asses and a lot of money on their accounts. She lives in denial about it for months and tries to pretend her string of fate isn’t even there. It’s easier for Simon to ignore Clary’s string since she’s the only one that can actually see it, but his attempts of humor do not sit well with his best friend. He secretly thinks she’s more upset about her soulmate coming from a rich family than the whole ‘hey my soulmate is a girl’ thing, but he can’t really say he blames her. Clary, and by extend Simon because they grew up in the same building, went to the same shitty public school and had to grocery shop at the same cheap stores and grew up in semi-poverty. She worked two jobs when she was sixteen to save up to go to the New York Art Academy, didn’t go out because she didn’t want to waste the money and bought all her clothes in thrift stores. Simon wouldn’t call her a cheapskate, but Clary always made every penny count. Her soulmate being rich without ever having to work for it probably feels like a giant bridge she can’t cross, not even to get to the love of her life.
Simon and Maureen both try to acknowledge Clary in her worries as much as they can in the months following her eighteenth birthday, but then Maureen turns eighteen and Clary’s soulmate problem moves to the background.
It isn’t impossible to have two soulmates, it’s just extremely rare and also mostly frowned upon. Not that the person in question can help it that they got two soulmates, but people will always want what they can’t have and be jealous of the people that have what they want. So Maureen is very secretive about the whole thing until she’s absolutely sure she’s alone with Simon and Clary. She even takes away their phones so they can’t tweet or blog or snapchat about it (as if they’d ever even consider that).
“It isn’t that strange,” Simon tries to assure her when Maureen has finally confessed to not seeing one, but two strings attached to her body and leading into the world.
“I mean, Luke has two soulmates.”
“Yeah!” Clary chimes in. “And Jocelyn and Alaric aren’t soulmates, but they still love each other and they’re really happy together.”
“That might be true, but what if my soulmates don’t like each other? Or my one soulmate doesn’t want me looking for my second soulmate and they’ll always be alone and soulmateless? Or what if my soulmates are each other’s soulmates too but they love each other more than they love me? Or – ”
Simon interrupts Maureen’s spiraling by grabbing the hand she’d been waving in front of his face during her rant. He grasps her wrist, looks her dead in the eye, and says: “Maureen. It’ll be fine. Finding out you have a soulmate is something to celebrate. Finding out you have two is something to be exhilarated about, not have a panic attack over.”
Maureen exhales shakily and sinks back into her chair.
“You’re probably right,” she says.
Simon offers her a cocky grin.
“Of course I am,” he says.
Clary and Simon try to only talk positively about soulmates from that day on. Clary stops whining about hers and actually approaches her, realizes her soulmate is actually a really cool person, falls in love and continues to praise the heavens about soulmates and red strings of fate and destiny. It does wonders for Maureen’s opinion on her two soulmates, but not even Clary’s praise can prepare them for the other side of the soulmate rhetoric.
You see, things can go great in life. You can have a soulmate (or two), find them pretty quickly, fall in love, move in, have kids, get married, grow old, whatever. And most people can have that. But some people aren’t that lucky. Some people wake up on their eighteenth birthday and realize they don’t see a red string at all. Simon has always been taught that this occurs too, that this isn’t unnatural or weird or something to shame someone for. Of course nobody wants this to happen to them and nobody likes talking about the possibility, but it still exists.
But when Simon wakes up on his eighteenth birthday, it isn’t the fact that he doesn’t see a string that concerns him.
It’s the fact that his string goes up and up and up, through the clouds, straight into the sky.
*
Humans have always fascinated Raphael.
He often just sits and watches them, observing their mundane lives and preventing fatal accidents here and there, especially if those accidents were to happen to his favorite humans to watch. He has a few of those; his favorites.
There’s this brunette girl, a bit over thirty, no soulmate. She lives in a small apartment with her dog and finds someone to share her bed with every night, men and women alike.
And there’s the balding, middle-aged man with a round stomach and thick glasses. Raphael has been following his life since his soulmate passed away in a tragic car crash. His life looks the same every single day. He follows the same routine, eats the same breakfast, wears the same, hideous striped shirts to work, is stuck in traffic for an hour each day, and eats takeout every other day. His life wouldn’t interest a lot of people, and it would certainly not spike the interest of an angel, yet Raphael tunes in with him every night to see how he’s going.
Because, behind closed curtains and when night has settled over his street, this particular man holds a gun to his head and sits there for minutes, sometimes hours. Raphael never knows if he’s going to do it, if he’s going to actually pull the trigger. He should feel detached from the situation, like all angels are, and yet he hopes he won’t do it every time.
And he never does. Almost as if he can hear Raphael beg him not to do it.
There’s also the young married couple. They’re soulmates, but they don’t seem to be very happy with each other. They argue all the time and very rarely make up, sleep in different beds and generally try to avoid each other as much as they can.
Raphael often wonders why these people out of all the people on earth fascinate him so much, and the answer comes to him when one part of the couple jumps out of the window in their desperation to break the soulmate connection.
All these people, all Raphael’s favorites, they’ve all been screwed by the soulmate rhetoric. Whether they never got one, got the wrong one or lost theirs, there is no happy ending for them.
And somehow that draws Raphael to them.
So he desperately tries to find someone else to observe, someone less broken by their own system. It doesn’t take long for him to be drawn to a specific energy, loud and cheerful and as raw and human as they come. His attraction leads him to a young man, not even eighteen yet. He has curly hair and round glasses, wears a bright smile and dark shirts. He plays the guitar and the piano and cello and he sings. God, whenever this boy sings, Raphael feels almost human. Almost as if he could touch this boy if he tried.
The boy – Simon, he learns – quickly becomes his new favorite. He’s desperate to find out more about his life, to get to know his family and friends, to know about his struggles and desires. Now more than ever, Raphael wishes he could talk to him. That he could fly down and just strike up a conversation with him to see if they would like each other.
Raphael thinks that he broke his own attraction to damaged people, but then Simon wakes up on his eighteenth birthday, looks up, and looks straight into Raphael’s eyes. If Raphael didn’t know any better, he’d think Simon could see him.
It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, to know why Simon is staring up to the sky like that. But then he sees it; a red string, beginning in Simon’s body, around his heart, and ending in Raphael’s own, on the spot where his heart would beat if he had one.
A red string of fate.
A symbol to connect two soulmates.
*
“At first I thought my soulmate was, like, on a plane or something,” Simon sighs into his cup of coffee, “but the string just won’t come down. It’s still leading up into the sky, unmoving.”
He pours some more sugar in his already too sweet coffee and stirs it miserably. Out of all people, of course something weird like this has to happen to him. He didn’t even know something like this was possible.
Clary tries to come up with an explanation for this, but the best she can come up with is: “Maybe your soulmate is in heaven.” Which… honestly does very little to cheer Simon up.
“Cool, so my soulmate is dead.”
Clary shrugs helplessly.
“I don’t know, Si,” she says. “I’ve never heard of anything like this. Maybe you should… you know. Get yourself checked out.”
“Yeah, and end up in a cage as an experiment? I don’t think so. We’ve all heard the stories.”
Clary shudders. They have. They’re used as ghost stories to scare young children, but all people above eighteen know they’re all true. They all know what happens to people who deviate from the norm. Those with no soulmates, those with grey strings instead of red ones, those with strings leading into the sky. When word gets out about what’s wrong with them, they get shunned, arrested or experimented on to find out why the system doesn’t work for them. It’s not a pleasant thought.
“Promise me you’ll keep this to yourself,” Simon says. “You can’t tell anyone. Not even Isabelle.”
Clary reaches for his hand across the table and squeezes it.
“I promise,” she says. “I’ll take this to my grave.”
*
The other angels are immediately briefed about what has happened to Raphael. They call an emergency meeting, one every single angel comes to because it’s so unheard of. Angels aren’t meant to be connected to humans in any way. Not as their guardian angels, not as angels of death, and certainly not as soulmates.
Raphael, though sharing a name with one of the most legendary angels in their history, does not share in the fame attached to his name. He doesn’t have an important job or a lot of status. He’s just an ordinary working angel. He doesn’t have permission to ever descend to earth, to ever come in contact with humans or to guide them back to heaven. But today, as he sits in the middle of the gathering, all eyes are on him. And suddenly everyone knows his name.
The others whisper about him while the Elders are preparing to speak. They talk about abominations, about halfbloods, about scandals. Humans are beneath angels. Though it is their sole purpose to protect them and guide them back here when their time has come, their lives should mean nothing to angels. They are the divine saviors, the heavenly warriors. Without them, the human race would be nothing. A human connecting to an angel in such an intimate way is like tainting their angel blood.
Finally, when Raphael can’t take any of their whispering anymore, the Elders step forward. Everyone falls quiet at once, their eyes fixated on the ancient angels that make up their Court.
“Raphael,” the Elder Gabriel says. Though his voice is not loud, Raphael still flinches. “Something happened to you today. Please step forward and explain.”
Raphael would much rather flee this gathering or burst into flames or fall to earth, but one does not disobey an Elder when they give you a direct order. So Raphael steps forward and explains everything he knows about that morning.
“So you had been watching this human for a while?”
“Yes,” Raphael says. There are some soft gasps around him. Angels aren’t supposed to watch humans. It’s indecent.
“Why?” Gabriel questions.
Raphael tries not to flinch beneath his stern gaze. The words feel like mud on his tongue, like something dirty and disgusting.
“Because I felt drawn to him,” he admits, shrinking into himself when the soft gasps turn into scandalized shouts.
“Drawn?” Gabriel repeats.
“Yes. I – I wanted to…” Raphael almost chokes on the words. Saying them out loud, in front of all these angels, makes him realize how wrong his actions are. How disgusting he is.
“Please continue,” Gabriel says calmly, not an ounce of judgement seeping through his tone.
“I wanted to know him. I felt the desire to… to descend. For him.”
“Descend?” Someone shrieks.
“For a human?” Someone else adds.
“We should’ve let him fall when we got the chance!” A third angel adds. Raphael closes his eyes and balls his hands into fists by his side. He knew they’d eventually link this monstrosity back to his heritage. Because he isn’t just an unimportant angel. No, his father actually was an angel of importance. He had a lot of status as an angel of Death. But his father made a fatal mistake; he fell in love with a human.
And out of their secret, forbidden love, Raphael was born. The first of his kind; a halfblood. Born out of a human body. He has angel and human blood pumping through his veins. He bleeds and feels and cries like humans do. He feels compassion and fear and sadness, just like they do. The reason why he can’t detach himself from his favorite humans is because he doesn’t have the same uninterested, stoic detachment the other angels have. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll always be part human too.
The only reason he was allowed into heaven as an angel was because his father was so important. But even he had to pay the ultimate price for laying with a human; he had to fall.
No ordinary angel falls and survives. Though their bodies are immortal, they can still die. So his father fell to his death as a price for falling in love, and he left his son with a species that didn’t even want him. A species that didn’t want to believe he could possibly exist.
And now he’s making the same mistake his father made. Because he may have been an angel of Death, but he was also intrigued by the human race.
Fascination is men’s biggest downfall.
Gabriel gets the others to quiet down with one single hand gesture. He looks around, his expression hard and unmoving as always, and then lets his gaze rest back on Raphael.
“Raphael, you must end this connection.”
“But how?” Raphael asks.
“You must simply find a way. If this connection is not broken soon, you will have no choice but to fall. Angels touched by man cannot stay divine.”
Raphael bows his head in defeat. He knows Gabriel is right. Of course he is. But part of him already mourns the loss of this connection.
“I will end it,” he says.
Gabriel briefly touches his shoulder, a gesture that is probably supposed to be sympathetic but just feels distant and cold.
“Meeting adjourned,” he announces to the others.
Raphael takes a deep breath once the other angels start to spread out. He doesn’t dare to leave his spot until everyone has left, and even then he takes a few moments to recollect himself before leaving too.
He avoids everyone on his way back to his position. He can hear them talking about them, whispers too loud to not be heard, but he just keeps his head down and his shoulders hunched, trying to make himself as small as possible.
Once he’s away from everyone’s judging glares, Raphael sits down to think about a way to break the connection. He isn’t an expert in human rituals and traditions, and he knows very little about the soulmate rhetoric itself. All he knows is that the system is deeply flawed, and that it leaves more people heartbroken than happy. But he doesn’t know why humans have these connections, or what connects them, or how to break it.
Angels generally can’t interfere with the lives of humans. Humans touched by the heavenly creatures often go mad or get blinded by their unfiltered purity. So Raphael can’t exactly descend – not even in secret – and just ask Simon how to break a soulmate connection.
Angels can, however, visit people in their dreams. They don’t do it often, mostly because most angels can’t be bothered to get involved in the short, meaningless life of some silly human, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t do it.
So, that night, when everyone is asleep, Raphael closes his eyes and concentrates on opening and extending his mind, almost like an extra limb, and reaching out to Simon.
*
The first time the man visits Simon’s dreams, even his imagination realizes it isn’t that good. Simon might have a rich fantasy, but not even his creative mind could come up with someone so gorgeous, so breathtaking.
The man is waiting for him on a bench in Central Park. Now, for someone who claims to have a rich fantasy, dreaming about Central Park isn’t very creative. But he walks through it every day to get to college and sits there for at least an hour every afternoon, just enjoying being alone and not feeling the constant pressure of having to be socially presentable, to always be funny and talkative and to uphold conversations even when they bored him to death. The park is his way of unwinding, so naturally his brain takes him there after long, stressful days.
“Uh, hi,” Simon says, approaching the stranger.
The man looks up, and it feels as if all the air has been knocked out of Simon’s lungs.
His eyes – god, his eyes are fucking incredible. Simon has always been a fan of brown eyes, but these brown eyes… they’re on a whole entire different level of beauty. They’re not just brown – there seems to be something swirling in them, dark and dangerous and really appealing. Simon feels himself gravitate towards them, as if they’re gonna suck them in.
And they’re not even the best part of his appearance. His hair, dark like a raven, looks like a combination of perfectly styled and casual beauty. His lips, full and pink, slightly parted, looking way too inviting as they curl into a lopsided grin.
And his skin, bronze and buzzing with warmth, looks like it was sculptured by God himself. Simon can’t find one single imperfection. Not even the scar on his cheek does anything to lessen his beauty.
Otherworldly. That’s the only word that seems to fit him.
“Hi,” the stranger says, and Simon swears his knees turn weak at the sound of his voice.
“Uh – ” Simon’s mouth is dry. He swallows thickly and continues: “I’m – uh, Simon.”
The stranger smiles at him, soft and beautiful. “I know. I’m Raphael.”
“Oh, like the angel.”
Something flashes across Raphael’s face, too fast for Simon to make anything out of. Then he’s back to being the serene, gorgeous stranger he is.
“Yes, like the angel.”
“So, Raphael – ” the name does something to Simon’s stomach, but he pushes the feeling away “ – what brings you here, in my boring, average dreams?”
Raphael raises an eyebrow.
“You know this is a dream?” He wonders.
Simon grins at him. “Yeah. I’m a lucid dreamer. I always know I’m dreaming.”
That seems to catch Raphael off guard. “Oh. So you can control every aspect of your dreams?”
“That’s right.”
“And you choose to dream about Central Park?”
“Hey, don’t mock Central Park! It’s a nice place to be.”
“Name one of its good qualities.”
“Well, for starters, it apparently has random attractive strangers sitting on benches striking up a conversation with me.”
Raphael sits back, smugly draping his arm over the rest of the bench. He eyes Simon up and down, swiftly licking his lips, before meeting his eyes again.
“I’m only a figure of your imagination, though,” he points out.
Simon huffs. “Oh please,” he says. “My imagination is good, but it isn’t that good.”
“Well, if you didn’t make me up, then how did I get here?”
Simon opens his mouth to reply, but closes it almost immediately after. How did Raphael get here if he didn’t make him up?
“I don’t know, man. A lot of weird shit has been happening to me lately. A red string leading into the sky, attractive strangers showing up in my dreams… none of it makes sense.”
“That’s okay,” Raphael shrugs, seemingly unbothered by Simon’s mention of his soulmate connection. Simon wasn’t really worried about it anyway – if Raphael reacted negatively, he could just wake up and never see him again. Nobody could hurt him in his dreams.
“But,” he continues, “if I’m gonna be here for a while, you might as well show me around. And by that, I don’t mean Central Park.”
“What do you mean, then?” Simon wonders.
Raphael makes a vague hand gesture.
“I don’t know, you’re the one controlling your dream. You get to choose where we go.”
Simon grins.
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”
*
Honestly, it had been Raphael’s intention to just ask about breaking a soulmate connection and be done with it. It would be nice and simple; just charm Simon into trusting him, then casually ask about soulmate connections and if they can be broken and go back to his own mind to take the final steps to end this. Easy.
Except, it didn’t go that way. Raphael had to take one simple look at Simon, at his lanky posture and blinding smile and bright eyes, and every plan of his evaporated. The draw was back, something pulling him towards him. Raphael wanted to spend time with him. He wanted to hear him talk, he wanted him to know he existed.
So, instead of sticking with the plan, he started an actual conversation with him. Even challenged him to take him somewhere nice.
Simon takes him to his favorite record store in Brooklyn and makes him listen to song after song until Raphael’s ears are hot. He had never heard music like this before. Sure, angels made music, but none of it included modern lyrics or guitars or the keyboards. Something about it, about the rhythm and the words, makes the blood pump faster in his veins.
His visit is short – way shorter than he’d like. But the average dream doesn’t last that long, and it’s time for Simon to slip into his next one. They say goodbye, as if they won’t see each other again. Simon probably thinks that’s the case.
Raphael knows better.
*
Raphael occurs in more of his dreams. Simon takes him somewhere else every night, ranging from his favorite coffees shop to his favorite bar to perform at to the summer camp he used to go to when he was younger. The more time they spend together, the more questions Simon starts to ask himself about the stranger. Raphael doesn’t say much on their little trips, mostly just nods and listens to what Simon has to say. When he does answer one of Simon’s questions, it’s mostly very cryptic and short. Nothing Simon can work with.
Raphael never mentions it, but Simon is starting to suspect that this might be his soulmate.
Maybe Clary was right. Maybe Simon’s soulmate is in heaven. Maybe Raphael died before Simon turned eighteen and he’s communicating through his dreams.
They’re on a hill, resting their backs against the trunk of a very large tree, and chewing on some apples. Raphael looks over the hill to the small village below, thoughtfully munching on his apple.
“Where are we?” He asks after a while.
“Oh, nowhere that actually exists,” Simon replies with a shrug. “Just something I came up with.”
“You came up with the outline and architecture of an entire village?”
“I have a rich imagination,” Simon grins.
Raphael whistles.
“Not bad,” he admits.
“Yeah… Hey, not that I don’t like your company in my dreams, but something has been bothering me. I know I didn’t make you up. I can handle dreaming up villages and characters and what not, but I could never make up someone like you. So, like, I don’t know if this is gonna sound stupid, but I was thinking that you, like, might be… my, uh, my soulmate.”
Raphael jerks his head away from the village to look at Simon instead. He doesn’t say anything, but his lips are moving as if he’s tasting the words he wants to say.
“So…” Simon continues, anxiety settling high in his chest. “Are you? My soulmate?”
Raphael observes him, as still and quiet as always. Sometimes, when he isn’t looking, Simon notices that Raphael’s chest doesn’t rise and fall like a normal person’s would. He doesn’t seem to be breathing at all. Maybe that’s just a thing that happens in dreams, like not being able to read or not having clocks around, but Simon isn’t so sure.
When the silence stretches between them and Simon is so embarrassed by even having suggested something like this that he’s ready to wake himself up and never sleep again, Raphael exhales deeply.
“I am,” he simply says.
“You are? But, then, how can you visit me in my dreams? Is that a thing all soulmates can do? And why is my red string leading up into the sky? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Raphael sighs.
“Those are questions I can’t give you the answers to, Simon.”
“Why not?”
Raphael shakes his head.
“I just – I can’t. It’s complicated.”
“I’m sure we could figure it out together. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could’ve spent our time together trying to figure this out.”
“You don’t understand,” Raphael insists. If Simon didn’t know any better, he’d think there’s desperation creeping into his voice. “This – us – it’s not – it isn’t natural. It’s wrong and twisted and I don’t know why it happened to me but I need – I need it to stop.”
Simon feels like he’s been slapped in the face, but he tries not to show his hurt when he addresses Raphael again.
“Raphael, is it because we’re both men? Because things are changing. People are more accepting. My best friend Clary, her soulmate is a girl and it’s – ”
“No,” Raphael interrupts. “It’s not because we’re both men.”
“Then what is it?”
“I – it’s – ” It’s the first time Simon has seen Raphael so emotional and lost for words. He normally always chooses his words carefully, not showing anything other than serenity. But now he’s rising to his feet in robotic movements, jaw clenched and hands fists by his side. “I have to go,” he says through clenched teeth. “I – I can’t stay here. I’m sorry, Simon. I should’ve never done this.”
“Hey, no, please don’t go,” Simon pleads. He reaches out to wrap a hand around Raphael’s wrist, but as soon as his skin touches his, he feels like he’s being burned.
Simon pulls back with a yelp and looks at the red blisters on his hand, and when he looks back up, Raphael is gone.
When Simon wakes up that morning, drenched in sweat, there are very real, no-dream blisters on his hand.
*
Raphael was never like any ordinary angel. Ordinary angels didn’t feel. They didn’t get attached, they didn’t bleed, they mostly didn’t care about anything that happened below them. And above all, angels didn’t cry.
That’s what made Raphael so different. That’s why so many angels couldn’t bear the sight of him. Because Raphael, unlike most angels, can feel. He can bleed. And he can cry.
The first time he cried was when he watched his father on his knees before the Elders, his wings being ripped out of his back before he got thrown down. He cried as he watched his father fall, cried when he heard his desperate screams for help, cried when he felt him die once he hit the ground.
The angels around him were horrified at the wet tears dripping out of his eyes. It was such a human thing to do, such a raw reaction to sorrow, so un-angellike. It was the first of many times that Raphael felt like he didn’t belong. And it was the first time that he promised himself to never cry again.
Of course, promises are there to be broken. In the following years, as he grew attached to some humans and started to feel for them, Raphael cried many times. He cried when Balding-Man’s soulmate died in a car crash. He cried when Brunette lost her dog, the only living creature she could ever love as much as she loved herself. He cried as one of the Doomed Soulmates ended their life to get away from the other.
And he cries again when his mind comes back to him. Not because he feels for others this time, but because he feels for himself. He feels sorry for himself. He pities himself. Because visiting Simon in his dreams, spending time with him, it hadn’t felt wrong. It had felt right, more right than anything had ever felt in his entire life.
But he doesn’t exactly have a lot of options. If he chooses Simon over the angels, they will give him the death sentence. He will fall to earth and he would never get to be with Simon. Simon would have to grow old without a soulmate, forever wondering why he didn’t come back to visit him in his dreams.
So, he tells himself that he’ll ask about breaking a soulmate connection the next time he visits Simon in his dreams. He’ll tell him what he is, and why they can never be together, and Simon will understand. He will grow old knowing his soulmate was impossible to reach but will always watch over him. It’s better than the alternative.
Or so he’s told.
*
“I swear, Clary. As soon as I touched him. Just – ” Simon waves his burned hand in front of Clary’s face, who frowns and grabs his wrist to examine it.
“There must be a logical explanation for this,” she mutters. “You must’ve touched something hot on accident and jerked awake from the pain.”
“Yeah, like what? There aren’t exactly any hot stoves in my room.”
“I don’t know, maybe, like, a lamp.”
“A lamp? That’s ridiculous and you know it.”
“Well, your explanation is just as ridiculous! You touched someone in your dream and got burned in real life? Come on. Even you must admit that doesn’t make sense.”
“But it’s what happened!” Simon defends himself, taking back his hand. “I tried to touch him and I got burned. It was so weird.”
“Okay, let’s ignore the burning part for now. You said this guy – ”
“Raphael.”
“Raphael, is your soulmate?”
“He said he was, yeah,” Simon nods.
“And you’re sure it wasn’t your brain trying to come up with an explanation for your weird string situation?” Clary asks carefully, raising an eyebrow.
“I know how it sounds, okay? It sounds like I’m losing my mind or trying to make myself feel better for not having a soulmate despite having a string. But I just – I know this is real. I don’t know how, but I know Raphael is my soulmate.”
“Okay, okay, fine,” Clary says, holding up her hands in surrender. She takes a sip of her coffee before continuing: “So, now what? You’re just gonna keep meeting Raphael in your dreams for the rest of your life? Would you really be happy with that?”
“No,” Simon mutters. “No, I wouldn’t be. I’m just – I don’t know. I guess I’ll confront him about it the next time he visits me. Make sure he doesn’t leave before I get some answers.”
Clary’s skeptical expression softens.
“I hope it works out, Si,” she says. “I really do.”
Simon sighs miserably.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “I hope so too.”
*
For most of his life, Raphael comforted himself with one thing; no matter how weird or different he was, at least he had one thing in common with other angels. He didn’t dream.
But, on the night he is supposed to extend his mind to reach Simon in his dreams, Raphael himself has one of his own.
They say dreams show you your deepest desires. Raphael never believed that, especially because he couldn’t dream himself and thus couldn’t experience it. But tonight, his dream shows him exactly what he wants.
He’s on earth, in the company of Simon, just laughing and talking and enjoying their time together. Then he’s outside, in the park, holding Simon’s hand as he points to the ducks and a dog walking past. Then he’s at a bar, where Simon is performing a love song for him. The images start to follow each other rapidly after that; kissing him, tasting his lips. Getting introduced to his friends. Their first argument. The first tears. The first apology. Then, even faster; sleeping together, touching each other. Sharing a bed. Adopting a dog. Moving in. Simon on one knee, proposing. More fights, more tears, more apologies, more laughter and happiness and joy and romance and friendship. All so raw, so real. Pure in its own way, not like the angels are pure, but like the humans are pure. Images of a baby, another baby, moving, getting a bigger house, watching the children growing up and moving out and being alone with Simon as they age, hair thinning and health declining. Through it all, Simon never stops smiling.
Raphael jerks away out of his dream with a small gasp and tears clinging to his eyelashes. He looks around in bewilderment, for a moment expecting to wake up next to Simon in their house before realizing where he is. He quickly wipes away his tears, scared someone will see them, and recollects himself.
There’s a new hollow pain in his chest. The feeling of missing something without knowing what it is. A deep longing for something, something… more. More than this. More than existing without actually feeling alive. Suddenly, Raphael wants to fall. He wants to feel something, anything but this hollow feeling that won’t go away. He almost goes to find the Elders to beg them to rip out his wings, but he can stop himself at the last minute. Instead, he just goes to find Gabriel.
Angels, especially the older ones, don’t need sleep. Some of them enjoy it, but most of them don’t see the point of just being nothing for a few hours. So he finds Gabriel awake and well. The older angel looks up to him and gestures for him to approach when Raphael bows as a way of greeting.
“Raphael,” Gabriel says. Again, his voice might not be loud but it still makes Raphael want to curl into himself until he’s nothing. “What can I do for you?”
“I – I need advice,” Raphael says softly.
“Go on,” Gabriel encourages him.
“The human – the one I’m connected to – ” He doesn’t miss the flash of disgust on Gabriel’s face before he pulls his expression back into calm serenity “ – I’m having trouble… letting go.”
“Letting go?”
“Yes. I think the soulmate connection… it might have an effect on me too. I find myself… longing for him. I can’t bring myself to – to find a way to break it.”
“Raphael,” Gabriel says again, pity seeping into his voice. “You are an angel. You’re godly, heavenly. You cannot be bonded to a human in any way, certainly not through a soulmate connection. It will taint you forever. You know this, don’t you?”
“I do, but – ”
“And you’re already different, my dear Raphael. How do you think the angels will see you if you keep your bond with that pathetic human? You’re already enough of an outcast as it is. Don’t make your life worse than it already is.”
Raphael’s skin turns hot when Gabriel calls Simon pathetic, but he bites his tongue. He wouldn’t want to speak back to an Elder. Not even he is stupid enough to do that.
“It’s just – ”
“It’s quite easy, actually. Find a way to break the connection, and then break it. It can’t be that hard. Humans are deeply and terribly flawed, certainly their own system must be too. Find the flaw and use it to your advantage.”
“I don’t… I don’t think I’m strong enough to do so,” Raphael confesses. He feels small and useless in front of the ancient, legendary angel.
Gabriel makes a noise at the back of his throat, something close to a growl. It makes Raphael remember that angels were once vicious, wild creatures until they became civilized.
“Angels touched by man cannot stay divine, Raphael. I thought I was very clear on that matter.”
And Raphael knows. He knows. But when he thinks about letting Simon touch him, about his lips pressing down on his, about his fingers tracing his skin, Raphael does not feel doomed. He does not feel tainted.
He feels infinite. He feels bigger than himself.
He feels… he feels human.
*
Raphael doesn’t show up in any of his dreams for a week, and Simon starts worrying that he’d made him up after all. That he had indeed tried to find a way to make his situation bearable. But, despite starting to believe that Raphael was nothing more than his own imagination, he misses him. A deep, hollow aching settles in his chest, so big it’s hard to breathe around it sometimes.
Simon tries to forget about him. He tries to ignore his red string leading up into the sky, tries to focus on anything but his fate. But no matter how hard he tries, his mind always finds its way back to Raphael’s dark eyes and beautiful smile.
And then, a week after the last time Raphael visited him, he shows up again.
He’s waiting for Simon on the same bench he was sitting on the first time they met. He doesn’t look as calm and collected as he once did, instead looks rather terrified. Simon is immediately alarmed.
“What’s wrong?” He asks instead of greeting him. Raphael looks up to him, eyes as dark as always, and part of the terror on his face seems to disappear.
“Nothing,” he says. Then he pats next to him.
Simon sits down and looks at him expectantly.
“Where have you been?” He asks when it doesn’t look like Raphael is going to say anything.
“I… I was sorting some stuff out,” Raphael replies. He takes a deep breath and looks Simon in the eye. “There’s something I need to tell you, Simon.”
“Okay. Nothing bad, I hope?”
Raphael sighs. “I don’t know. Just hear me out.”
“Okay, yeah. Sure. Go ahead.”
Raphael takes another deep breath and lets his gaze drift away from Simon’s eyes, instead focusing on the ground in front of him.
“I… I don’t know how to say this and I know it’s going to sound insane, but I swear it’s the truth. I swear it on my life.”
“Okay…” Simon nods, suddenly worried.
“Simon, I’m… okay, your red string leads up into the sky, right?”
“Right.”
“I told you I’m your soulmate, and you asked me why your string led into the sky. Well, it’s because… it’s because I’m – I’m an angel.”
Simon’s jaw drops. “Wh – an angel? Like, the winged kind? God’s servants?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes. That kind.”
“And – why – what – an angel? Are you for real?”
“I’m afraid I am. You see, that’s why our connection is wrong. Angels aren’t meant to connect with humans. It’s unnatural.”
“Then how come we have a connection?”
Raphael sighs shakily. “I think it’s because I’m part human too. I was born out of a human body, but my father took me to live in heaven when my mother died in childbirth. All my life, I’ve been different. I thought I couldn’t be more of an outcast, but then… then this happened.” He gestures between the two of them.
Simon feels his heart sink.
“Well,” he mutters, “I’m sorry I ruined your life.”
Raphael’s head shoots up.
“What? No, Simon, you didn’t ruin it. I don’t know how, but whenever I’m with you, I feel more myself than I’ve felt in all these years I’ve been alive. It feels… it feels absolutely and totally right to be with you.”
“Then why did you say it – we – were wrong?”
“Because that’s what the angels think,” Raphael explains. “’Angels touched by man cannot stay divine’. Angels, we, they, think they’re better than humans. That we have evolved past emotions and desires and fears and everything that makes humans so complicated and beautiful. Being connected to a human, being with a human in any way, it taints our blood. It makes us vile. It’s a disgrace.”
Simon swallows thickly. His head is spinning, but for some reason, he doesn’t doubt Raphael’s sincerity once.
“Then why are you here?” He asks, soft and vulnerable.
Raphael looks at him, and Simon can see the worry and shame wash off his face until it seems like it was never there to begin with.
“Because I want to be with you, Simon. I can’t help it. It’s like – it’s like a pull. When I’m not with you, I feel hollow and empty. Only you can make that feeling go away.”
Simon smiles up at him. “I feel the same way,” he says. “Hollow until I’m with you.”
“I don’t want to be hollow anymore,” Raphael mutters softly.
“Me neither,” Simon agrees.
And then they’re both leaning in for a kiss. Simon closes his eyes, his heart almost beating out of his chest, and he’s longing longing longing for Raphael’s touch, his taste, his scent, and he’s so close, can feel the warmth radiating off him, can feel his breath on his cheeks –
Their lips touch for less than a second before Simon jolts awake, kicking and screaming.
*
There are many ways for an angel to fall.
They can fall as a result of trial, in which case they’ll be de-winged and thrown down. They can fall like Lucifer did, with his wings but without his will to live, and rot and become bitter until there is no divine fiber left in their bodies.
And they can fall because a higher power decided they should.
When his mind catches up to him, Raphael is falling. The wind is screaming in his ears and hurting his wings. He can see his feathers come off and fly back up, back to heaven as if they can’t stand the idea of being separated from their home. His back is burning where his wings shrink and curl and burn until there’s nothing left.
On his long way down, Raphael weeps. He weeps because he’ll fall to his death, and because he lost his wings, and because he’ll never see Simon again. The hollow loss in his chest feels like it’s spreading, as if it’s eating him from the inside. Raphael screams in agony, praying for the pain to end, for the fall to end, for everything to end.
Crashing down on earth is painful, but it isn’t deathly.
Raphael opens his eyes once he feels solid ground underneath him. Above, the sky is bright and blue. As if it hadn’t just spit him out and left him to die. As if the angels aren’t looking down on him and mocking him, maybe even cursing him for surviving.
Raphael doesn’t feel divine as he lies there, not knowing if death is just catching up on him. He’s in pain, everything hurts, everything is raw and sore and bleeding. But he’s bleeding, blood red like that of humans. And he’s breathing and his heart is beating and he feels, god, how he feels.
Slowly, he sits up. He has landed in a yard all too familiar to him, one he had watched a lot when he was still up in heaven.
Almost as if to confirm his assumptions, Simon’s figure pops into focus.
“Hi,” he says, and it feels like all Raphael’s pain is immediately gone at hearing Simon’s real, unfiltered, non-dream voice. “Nice to finally meet you for real, Raphael. Let’s get inside. We have a lot to talk about.”
Simon holds out his hand, and Raphael doesn’t hesitate before taking it.
Touching Simon does not burn. It does not taint his blood or bring dishonor upon his name or kill any divinity he has left.
No, touching Simon feels right. It feels as if he’d been asleep his entire life and is only now waking up, as if he unraveled every mystery the universe has to offer, as if every star aligned just for them. It feels right, and warm, and soft, and human.
Finally, Raphael feels like he belongs.