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queenslayerbeeOnce again, back to 2018. This time with a one-shot I wrote for the Shadowhunters Rarepair Valentines Challenge that year.
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As soon as he stepped out of his bed, Raphael knew it was going to be a bad leg day. He grumbled and complained under his breath, but he took the cane out of the closet.
It was the birthday of one of the elders at his sister's retirement home, and she had asked him to bring some pastries to the event. So he pushed through the pain, put on a light grey suit and a trilby hat and left his house.
His car was in the repair shop, so he walked to the nearest bus stop. It was a warm, sunny, slightly windy summer day, something which alleviated his joints and improved his mood.
When he arrived, the festivities had already begun. Most of the people attending surpassed the seven decades, so despite the music in the room —the biggest they had at the home—, with the exception of a few daring souls, they were all sitting down and playing board games. Raphael put his pastries on the main table, and after making a little chit-chat with a couple of the employees, he started looking for Rosa.
She wasn't too hard to find, as she was one of those brave souls, along with that Lightwood girl.
He'd seen her intermittently in his last few visits, and from what Rosa told him, she was there almost as often as him, helping the elders. He hadn't asked why such a young, lively girl was spending half her afternoons in there of all places; he still retained an ounce of decor in his body, despite what his sister had to say about it. His money was on community service. Those tattoos screamed gang from a mile away. He was almost sure he had seen them in other people too.
In any case, Rosa seemed to have taken a liking to the girl; she was always polite with him and exceptionally kind to his sister, so he found no reason to complain about her presence. At least not to her face.
Both women left the improvised dance floor, walking straight to him. Rosa greeted him with a hug, musing about the joys of youth and their energy.
"You know," she told Ms. Lightwood, "he was a much better dancer that I am. Even the people who were to intimidated to speak with him asked him to dance when there was a party in our neighborhood."
"She exaggerates," he said, rolling his eyes.
"I don't know, I believe the intimidating part."
Not a type of dig he wasn't used to —mainly because it was true—, but she seemed to speak good-naturedly, he gave her that.
"You should dance," Rosa told him, pointing to the girl and to the dance floor, "you used to love it."
He didn't miss the quick glance Ms. Lightwood directed to his cane; it was probably the first time she saw it. He nodded, agreeing, not knowing if it was to please his sister or out of pure stubbornness.
He reclined his cane against a table and accompanied the girl to the center of the room. The song playing was soft, moody, slow, typical of a classical ballroom dance; such music hadn't been among his favorites in his youth, but he knew how to dance it. They positioned themselves for it, dancing to the rhythm with only minor awkwardness —she had always seemed forward, but finding oneself in close proximity to a man almost four times your age could do that. His joints seemed to complain, but it wasn't an active enough dance to really bother him.
"Oh crap, they finished all your pastries?" He raised his eyebrows, more surprised at her immediate embarrassment than at her swearing. "Rosa always says you're a great cook, I wanted to try them."
"I'll bring some the next time I come," he promised. "You're really good with her, you know."
He knew for experience that not everyone was wired to deal well with her sister's memory issues. Sometimes even he wasn't as patient as he would've liked.
"She's great, it's not a problem, honestly."
Raphael nodded, deciding that was enough emotional conversation for the moment. Then, just to show off, he spun Ms. Lightwood and dipped her as much as his old body allowed. She laughed, a little too loudly, enjoying herself.
"Rosa is right, you must have broken so many hearts in your neighborhood."
"Luckily, I think my personality prevented that."
When the song ended, they both went back to Rosa, entertaining her for the evening until she told them she was tired. While Ms. Lightwood took her to her room, Raphael was handed the pastries plate, along with food containers he'd brought with previous meals. He said his goodbyes to a few people and proceeded to walk to the bus stop.
He heard hurried steps behind him, and was only slightly surprised when Ms. Lightwood caught up with him and asked him if he wouldn't mind if she carried the food containers.
"This is my line anyway," she said, pointing to the bus signal.
It sounded like a lie, but carrying them was harder with a cane, and since it was a lie that served both of them, he yielded.
She paid for her bus ticket and sat next to him. Raphael was amused when he realized she seemed to be struggling to find a conversation topic.
"So. No Mrs. Santiago then? Or a second Mr.?"
He answered, a little taken aback by the question. "No. Never."
"Never?"
"I've been told I was too picky. It just didn't seem the point to be with someone if they didn't completely turn my world upside down," he shrugged. A long time ago, he might've shied away from the frankness of his words, but age cures all shame.
Ms. Lightwood cleared her throat, seemingly touched by his candid moment. "I can understand that."
They traveled in silence the rest of the way, and then she walked with him to his door and handed him the containers.
"Goodbye, Ms. Lightwood," he told her, tipping his hat.
She smiled, uncharacteristically sad. "Goodbye. Mr. Santiago."
What a weird girl, he thought, closing his door.
A/N (2018): This story came to me when I read a spoiler about the books series. Basically, without getting into specifics, there's a character that loses their supernatural status and their memories, and I wanted to explore that with Raphael, even if it would be almost the opposite of what I want to happen in canon LOL. Since the story is from his POV, I don't think anyone needs to worry about possible spoilers from the tv show, if you're like me and that's the only thing you follow.
2026: The show kind of did this to him huh? Not the aging and memory loss part, but some of it xD.
Funny enough, I've now started reading the book series (in French, because of Reasons), so eventually I will get to that part of the books. Way down the line though, I'm only doing a chapter per day.
Title: memories are bullets.
Fandom: Shadowhunters.
Character/Pairing: Isabelle Lightwood/Raphael Santiago.
Rating/Warnings: T, none.
Summary: As soon as he stepped out of his bed, Raphael knew it was going to be a bad leg day. He grumbled and complained under his breath, but he took the cane out of the closet.
Word count: ~1k.
read more
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As soon as he stepped out of his bed, Raphael knew it was going to be a bad leg day. He grumbled and complained under his breath, but he took the cane out of the closet.
It was the birthday of one of the elders at his sister's retirement home, and she had asked him to bring some pastries to the event. So he pushed through the pain, put on a light grey suit and a trilby hat and left his house.
His car was in the repair shop, so he walked to the nearest bus stop. It was a warm, sunny, slightly windy summer day, something which alleviated his joints and improved his mood.
When he arrived, the festivities had already begun. Most of the people attending surpassed the seven decades, so despite the music in the room —the biggest they had at the home—, with the exception of a few daring souls, they were all sitting down and playing board games. Raphael put his pastries on the main table, and after making a little chit-chat with a couple of the employees, he started looking for Rosa.
She wasn't too hard to find, as she was one of those brave souls, along with that Lightwood girl.
He'd seen her intermittently in his last few visits, and from what Rosa told him, she was there almost as often as him, helping the elders. He hadn't asked why such a young, lively girl was spending half her afternoons in there of all places; he still retained an ounce of decor in his body, despite what his sister had to say about it. His money was on community service. Those tattoos screamed gang from a mile away. He was almost sure he had seen them in other people too.
In any case, Rosa seemed to have taken a liking to the girl; she was always polite with him and exceptionally kind to his sister, so he found no reason to complain about her presence. At least not to her face.
Both women left the improvised dance floor, walking straight to him. Rosa greeted him with a hug, musing about the joys of youth and their energy.
"You know," she told Ms. Lightwood, "he was a much better dancer that I am. Even the people who were to intimidated to speak with him asked him to dance when there was a party in our neighborhood."
"She exaggerates," he said, rolling his eyes.
"I don't know, I believe the intimidating part."
Not a type of dig he wasn't used to —mainly because it was true—, but she seemed to speak good-naturedly, he gave her that.
"You should dance," Rosa told him, pointing to the girl and to the dance floor, "you used to love it."
He didn't miss the quick glance Ms. Lightwood directed to his cane; it was probably the first time she saw it. He nodded, agreeing, not knowing if it was to please his sister or out of pure stubbornness.
He reclined his cane against a table and accompanied the girl to the center of the room. The song playing was soft, moody, slow, typical of a classical ballroom dance; such music hadn't been among his favorites in his youth, but he knew how to dance it. They positioned themselves for it, dancing to the rhythm with only minor awkwardness —she had always seemed forward, but finding oneself in close proximity to a man almost four times your age could do that. His joints seemed to complain, but it wasn't an active enough dance to really bother him.
"Oh crap, they finished all your pastries?" He raised his eyebrows, more surprised at her immediate embarrassment than at her swearing. "Rosa always says you're a great cook, I wanted to try them."
"I'll bring some the next time I come," he promised. "You're really good with her, you know."
He knew for experience that not everyone was wired to deal well with her sister's memory issues. Sometimes even he wasn't as patient as he would've liked.
"She's great, it's not a problem, honestly."
Raphael nodded, deciding that was enough emotional conversation for the moment. Then, just to show off, he spun Ms. Lightwood and dipped her as much as his old body allowed. She laughed, a little too loudly, enjoying herself.
"Rosa is right, you must have broken so many hearts in your neighborhood."
"Luckily, I think my personality prevented that."
When the song ended, they both went back to Rosa, entertaining her for the evening until she told them she was tired. While Ms. Lightwood took her to her room, Raphael was handed the pastries plate, along with food containers he'd brought with previous meals. He said his goodbyes to a few people and proceeded to walk to the bus stop.
He heard hurried steps behind him, and was only slightly surprised when Ms. Lightwood caught up with him and asked him if he wouldn't mind if she carried the food containers.
"This is my line anyway," she said, pointing to the bus signal.
It sounded like a lie, but carrying them was harder with a cane, and since it was a lie that served both of them, he yielded.
She paid for her bus ticket and sat next to him. Raphael was amused when he realized she seemed to be struggling to find a conversation topic.
"So. No Mrs. Santiago then? Or a second Mr.?"
He answered, a little taken aback by the question. "No. Never."
"Never?"
"I've been told I was too picky. It just didn't seem the point to be with someone if they didn't completely turn my world upside down," he shrugged. A long time ago, he might've shied away from the frankness of his words, but age cures all shame.
Ms. Lightwood cleared her throat, seemingly touched by his candid moment. "I can understand that."
They traveled in silence the rest of the way, and then she walked with him to his door and handed him the containers.
"Goodbye, Ms. Lightwood," he told her, tipping his hat.
She smiled, uncharacteristically sad. "Goodbye. Mr. Santiago."
What a weird girl, he thought, closing his door.
A/N (2018): This story came to me when I read a spoiler about the books series. Basically, without getting into specifics, there's a character that loses their supernatural status and their memories, and I wanted to explore that with Raphael, even if it would be almost the opposite of what I want to happen in canon LOL. Since the story is from his POV, I don't think anyone needs to worry about possible spoilers from the tv show, if you're like me and that's the only thing you follow.
2026: The show kind of did this to him huh? Not the aging and memory loss part, but some of it xD.
Funny enough, I've now started reading the book series (in French, because of Reasons), so eventually I will get to that part of the books. Way down the line though, I'm only doing a chapter per day.