Chapter Text
The first day, he spent it in his bed, trying not to think of soft brown hair and talented fingers running on the neck of a guitar. Head under the pillow, trying to mute everything around him, everything but the blood rushing in his ears and the quiet sob escaping from his chest.
Trying to ignore his phone buzzing on the nightstand.
He knew Simon was calling. He wanted to pick up as hard as he wanted to never talk again to this… this moron. Each call, each buzz made his back tingle and his chest tighten. His blunt nails would dig into his palms to prevent him from reaching for the phone. He would replay the conversation he had with Magnus, only hours ago. The "this needs to stop" from his friend, and himself, confessing he had ended the poisonous relationship he had with Simon. Finally.
Magnus had been surprised, as if he thought Raphael wasn’t strong enough.
At four in the morning, Raphael picked up phone. It wouldn’t stop, and he knew it won't until Simon had had what he wanted.
"Oh God-" was whispered in his ear, as if Simon didn’t expect him to answer anytime. A hushed noise, like the shuffle of sheets, and then the voice, clearer. "Raphael, I'm so sorry, please, please, just listen to me, I promise-"Raphael hung up before the end, knowing any more words could convince him of everything.
That’s what Simon did. He put words one after another and made you feel emotions, made you believe he held the sun and the moon in his hands. It was his job after all. The lead singer of a band was supposed to make you think you were the one and only.
The first week, he spent it in a haze. He barely paid attention to the world around him, even when he went to work. June was never a rush at the publishing company and he was currently working on a cookbook for children. He could do that on autopilot.
Which was good because he could barely sleep at night. The phone would never stop buzzing, keeping him from the arms of Morpheus. He knew he could simply turn it off.
He didn’t.
He briefly got out of his blurredness on Wednesday when he caught Magnus talking about a party to celebrate his bachelorhood. He didn’t feel like partying. He felt like lying alone in his bed in front of a Peaky Blinders episode and not thinking of Simon.
Magnus kept saying that seeing his friends will do him good. It's true that Raphael missed Ragnor and Catarina. He missed his old life, the simplicity of it, its non emotional aspect, when love was just something he had heard of and hoped he'd never catch.
The second week, he turned off his phone. Just during the night. He would wake up at seven to find ten missed calls. He'd deleted them one by one, and it became easier every morning.
But then Simon started leaving voicemails.
Simon never leaves voicemails. He likes talking because of the conversation, the interaction, something a responder couldn’t give him.
Raphael hadn’t listened to any of them.
Exactly eighteen days after the breakup, when Raphael woke up, his phone was empty. No call, no voicemail, no text. Nothing.
He felt reveled as much as he felt horribly alone. This feeling of abandonment was so strong it made him feel nauseous and he didn’t go to work that day.
It's been nearly three weeks of silence, and Raphael is used to it. He started going out with his friends again – well, as far as hanging out in Magnus' apartment and drinking fancy cocktails he couldn’t name was considered as going out. He's never been the party type, having always refused to go in a club with Mags. The latter would dress up, mix silk and leather, dark lipstick and glittered eye shadow. Magnus could be spotted at the other side of a club, not only because of his looks, but also because the sea of clubbers would open before him. He had this thing, this thing that made people turn around and stare.
So, okay, Raphael was naturally cute, had a very developed fashion sense and could be frankly hot with a little guyliner, but he couldn’t stand beside Magnus and not be outshone. Not that he cared. People you meet in clubs are noisy, sweaty, often drunk. He didn’t want anything to do with them.
He always thought you can only meet good people in a coffee shop. There, people were sober, sometimes a little tired, so you'd directly meet them, you'd collide with their Everyday life. People in coffee shops were real, not some fake mask you put on for one night.
Well, maybe it wasn’t so true, considering that Simon had looked absolutely lovely with a cappuccino in hand and his ruffled hair.
(Whatever. Everything wasn’t about Simon. Simon was long forgotten, yes. Simon who? )
So Raphael had fun again. He went shopping with Magnus, made fun of his new hat, teased him with Catarina on his mysterious new boyfriend, who made him look so smitten. He carefully didn’t avoid the coffee shop, his pride refusing to give up on this place he loved. Simon hadn’t wrecked this lovely place for him, no he hadn't.
He went back to be his old, slightly bitter, self. And if yellow scarves, big framed glasses and indie music still made his heart burn, still made his lungs ache for air and his lips ache for a kiss, he got used to shrug the uncomfortable feelings off.
It's the sixth week – and no, Raphael is not counting, because he doesn’t care anymore- and Magnus tricks him into a dinner. He has called and asked Raphael to come over to show him his new three-piece suit. How Raphael could resist to this? The opportunity to see Mag in something as formal as a suit, fuck, even just the idea of a new suit? He just couldn’t.
He takes a bottle of red wine on his way, guessing that Cat and Ragnor will probably be there too.
Magnus isn’t in a suit, realizes Raphael when the door opens. But he looks quite wonderful, make-up glittery and dressed like he's going out. Raphael can’t help but think that something is up when he catches a glimpse of Cat and sees she wears a dress and a tiara. Very Gatsby-like.
Ragnor follows, and even he has made the effort of putting on a button up.
Raphael doesn’t feel underdressed, he is never underdressed, but suspicion makes him wrinkle his nose.
"What's happening here?" he asks, going to the kitchen to open the bottle he brought and pour the wine into a decanter. Cat follows him, trying to read the label on the bottle.
"Oh dear, don't be suspicious like that" Magnus sighs, never losing his smile. He seems very happy, his feet barely touching the ground as he walks to him.
"You could have just told him why he came here" Ragnor says rolling his eyes, a shoulder against the doorframe, a cocktail glass filled with an incredibly green liquid in hand.
Okay, now Raphael is starting to regret coming here.
"No, I couldn’t. You how he is with new people".
"What new people?" he asks again, squinting his eyes. He doesn’t need to meet any people. He has his friends and is happy with the three of them. He surely doesn’t need to be surrounded by anyone else, let alone when it's in his best friend's apartment, where he can’t decently flee.
"I proposed Alec to come for dinner tonight and asked him to bring his friends" Mag practically sings to him while he removes food boxes from very colored bags.
From the smell, Raphael is pretty sure it is Ethiopian food. Okay, at least they'd eat well. His lack of reaction earns him another eye roll from Ragnor, but nothing of that seems to take Magnus off his little cloud of happiness.
"His little sister is adorable, you're going to love her" he continues, which makes Raphael raise an eyebrow and whisper a "I highly doubt this". It earns him a nudge in the ribs from Cat but it's true.
In principle, Raphael doesn’t like new people. He used to be enterprising, polite, smiling an awful lot when he was younger. It only led him to be manipulated and somehow hurt. New people often turned out to be bad or uninteresting, so why would he bother to try.
Magnus knows that. He knows Raphael more than anyone, and he knows how hurting he can be when he tries to keep people away from him. That's why he takes a second to look Raphael in the eyes and tell him "If you have nothing nice to say, just… Don’t say anything".
It doesn’t sound mean, and Raphael knows it's not. He just nods, a little amazed by the serious in Magnus' eyes. He doesn’t think he's ever seen his friend so deeply involved in a relationship, so eager to please someone.
When a knock is heard at the door, Magnus anything but leaps to open it. Raphael has barely the time to catch a glimpse of the tall –so fucking tall- black haired boy that Magnus has already a hand around his neck and his own lips on his. Raphael vaguely hopes the boy doesn’t see how much Magnus is in love with him. He knows more than anyone how much a one-sided love hurts.
Some giggles are heard behind them and Mag finally lets go of his boyfriend. A young girl, smaller and more luscious version of Alec, walks in, dragging Simon in by the hand. His Simon.
Raphael feels his eyes widen with horror when the boy, who looks like a deer caught in the headlights, moves forward into the room. He supposes Simon didn’t planned on getting here, but he knew where Magnus lived, he knew where he went, how could he-
"What is he doing here?" Ragnor's voice is disbelieving. Raphael had almost forgotten his presence.
There is a moment of confusion, during which the newcomers ask themselves who Ragnor is talking about, before Simon forces his mouth open.
"I'm so sorry" he starts, and fuck, his voice is exactly the same.
The words make a shiver run down his spine, and the only thing he wants is to get out of here. But Simon talks, talks, stumbles on his words, apologizing to Magnus, explaining he didn’t know he'd come here. His eyes stay fixed on Raphael the whole time. Those big golden eyes, those eyes he lost himself in so many times, those eyes he used to see bloodshot.
Lack of sleep and drugs use tend to have this effect on pretty eyes.
Of course, at the time, Raphael had convinced himself he could deal with it. His boyfriend was a musician, who just started to be known. He could handle some bloodshot eyes and parties, and put up with his weird artist's habits.
"Stop" says Magnus when Simon takes a step in his direction. "You're not doing one more step. In fact, you should leave. You're not welcome here anymore."
There is a shocked silence, the black-haired girl seems to be about to ask for an explanation, but then Simon turns to Raphael and says his name. "Raphael" he says, with the voice he uses to sing, with the voice he used before, when Raphael couldn’t sleep at night and Simon had to appease him, to assure him nobody was going to hurt him as long as he was here. This voice means so much for Raphael, sweet kisses and hard bites, nimble fingers in his hair, sliding down his chest, broken glass, screams, tears and fear, the surge on stage and the fall backstage, the haunting riff of a guitar. And it's too much, too many things, too close, too bright, he misses his skin and he hates him.
His breath is caught away from his mouth, chopped and hurting his throat. He turns tail and leaves the room, looking for air to fill his aching body. But his lungs are empty, empty, nothing going in and everything going out. Dear God and he thought he was cured.
Simon is still so deeply in his bones he feels like he might collapse on the floor one moment to another.
There are hands, Magnus' he realizes, grabbing him and holding him against a solid chest. Raphael clings to him like he rarely does, his fingers deep into his friend's shoulders to prevent him from breaking down.
He's not crying. No tears rushing down his face, because Raphael doesn't cry. But his throat is sore even though he hadn’t made a sound and blood is rushing loudly in his ears.