Random OneShots

Until I'm not afraid

By: orphan_account on Ao3

Saphael

~~~~~

           Some days, Simon is perfectly happy. He has a great boyfriend and his clan has more or less accepted that he is their annoying fledgling.

           Other days, he looks at his body, at the curves of his hips and thighs and chest, and he feels like curling into himself and hiding. 

          Yesterday was a bad day. So was the day before that, and it looked like today would not be much better.

          This whole thing had started when he had received a little reminder that he wasn't pregnant. He had felt like screaming - "I know that!" - but it had done no good. He had known it was coming, of course, but for whatever reason, while he had been scrubbing his underwear with soap and cold water, he had felt cheated. Every other guy he knew didn't have to deal with this. Why had he been born like this, in a body that did not, at all, match who he was? Had he done something to deserve this? Immediately, he pushed those thoughts away.

          Clary had long ago conditioned him to do so- when he was thinking things like that, he would just stop.

          'Focus on something else,' she would say, if she was there. 'Do you still want to go out for dinner with me and Izzy tonight? I was thinking we could go to that new Chinese place near the Institute... that way if Izzy or I are needed...."

          Simon had spared a smile for a few seconds before he looked down and realized that he had forgotten to put on another set of underwear, and was now dripping blood on the tiles.

          Now, he's been locked in his room for three consecutive days, curled into a ball and wishing that he could have ice cream. He hadn't been doing much of anything, including eating- the only blood he'd had since beginning his solitude was at the very beginning, and only a single bag. When Clary stops by, bearing blood and Star Wars IV, V, and VI, (because of course she knows; he memorized her schedule, too) he begs her, through the door, to leave. She does, although not before banging on the door insistently. When he cracks it open a minute later, a bag of blood lays there. He snatches it and drains it quickly, ignoring the way his fangs bite at his lower lip.

         (He loves Clary, with everything he is- how could he not? She's his best friend, has been since kindergarten, and she helped him realize that he was valid, with the same steadfastness as when he was ashamed of being what the school kids called a geek. But the truth is, sometimes he can't stand to be around her. She's so utterly comfortable with who she is- which makes him sound petty, but it's true. She didn't have to deal with the feeling that was coursing through Simon, or the thought that he hadn't signed up for this and why him. And, besides, she's so pushy sometimes, so insistent and sure that he just needs to talk about what's wrong. That had worked when he was younger, and it worked for her, but for Simon, it just made him think more and more about his body and everything that was wrong-)

          He needs a distraction, and badly. This month is worse than it usually is, for whatever reason. He feels like clawing at his skin and screaming, but doing so would alert the clan, and he can't risk them coming up and smelling the blood everywhere. So far they had left him (if not blissfully then thankfully) alone, but how his heart had raced (not literally, of course) when he heard Clary knocking. Rather than doing something, though, he returns to his bed and tries to curl up on his side the best he can without his binder feeling like it's suffocating him. He probably doesn't actually need it, not today when he doesn't plan on letting anyone in, but it comforts him a little.

           The moment when someone knocks gently on the door startles him, and he immediately shoots upward to sit, with his blankets pulled to him. "Please don't co-" he starts to plead, but even as 'don't' passes his lips, the door is opening and Raphael pokes his head in.