Raphael's words hurt more than Michael was willing to let on. His tone forcedly calm, he said, "At least I say what I feel and think exactly like it is. Even if it makes me sound sappy, I prefer to be honest. Or would you prefer me staying quiet for another two millennia before I tell you something with no omissions of any kind?"
He drew a deep breath before continuing, "Uriel is, well, Uriel. His life and job aren't exactly the lightest ones to bear, and he gets his amusement from where he gets it. If I can help him feel at least a bit better, even if it is at my expence, I will endure it -- no matter how annoying it feels at times.
"As I said, I have decided to be honest and say whatever I think exactly like I feel it. However, I cannot help but wonder whether you are also truthfully voicing your own feelings. And, if what you say is truly what you feel, I'd like to know whatever happened to the Raphael I used to know. The one who was indeed sweet and loving and all around adorable, who never said a bad word about anyone, definitely not about another angel.
"Perhaps you were right about this house; perhaps it really affects us all. I definitely hope so, for if this is the real you, the person I have loved for over two millennia -- and still love, despite everything -- then I fear for you. I truly fear for you, Raphael, for even here Uriel has his sword with him."
Those last words, not intended but spilling from his mouth nevertheless, hurt him even more than anything Raphael had said. And they hurt because, like everything else he had said, they were exactly what he felt.
Lowering his eyes, he turned to leave. "Sweet dreams, Raphael, and I hope you rest well," he said quietly, not bothering to look back over his shoulder. "Hopefully you'll feel more like yourself once you wake up."
With that, he walked away. And, no matter how impossible it had seemed earlier, he was hurting even more than before he had run into Raphael in the corridor.
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He drew a deep breath before continuing, "Uriel is, well, Uriel. His life and job aren't exactly the lightest ones to bear, and he gets his amusement from where he gets it. If I can help him feel at least a bit better, even if it is at my expence, I will endure it -- no matter how annoying it feels at times.
"As I said, I have decided to be honest and say whatever I think exactly like I feel it. However, I cannot help but wonder whether you are also truthfully voicing your own feelings. And, if what you say is truly what you feel, I'd like to know whatever happened to the Raphael I used to know. The one who was indeed sweet and loving and all around adorable, who never said a bad word about anyone, definitely not about another angel.
"Perhaps you were right about this house; perhaps it really affects us all. I definitely hope so, for if this is the real you, the person I have loved for over two millennia -- and still love, despite everything -- then I fear for you. I truly fear for you, Raphael, for even here Uriel has his sword with him."
Those last words, not intended but spilling from his mouth nevertheless, hurt him even more than anything Raphael had said. And they hurt because, like everything else he had said, they were exactly what he felt.
Lowering his eyes, he turned to leave. "Sweet dreams, Raphael, and I hope you rest well," he said quietly, not bothering to look back over his shoulder. "Hopefully you'll feel more like yourself once you wake up."
With that, he walked away. And, no matter how impossible it had seemed earlier, he was hurting even more than before he had run into Raphael in the corridor.