Raphael

The morning was quiet, and sleep was as sweet as honeycomb. But the idyll collapsed in an instant: the alarm clock erupted in a nasty, ear-piercing ring. At that very moment, a heavy palm pinned you to the bed—Raphael had unceremoniously sat down on your back, making your lungs seize in surprise. It was so unfair: he looks and feels like an ordinary human, yet the moment he settles in to get comfortable, you start to suffocate. Why does everyone else get lighthearted angels, while you get this heavyweight warden?

— Rise and shine, his voice came through, steady and devoid of all emotion, — You have an exam today. Don't embarrass yourself.

He shifted slightly, allowing you to catch a breath, but he showed no sign of leaving. It seemed he couldn't care less that you were still struggling to even open your eyes.

— I also strongly recommend avoiding... — he paused meaningfully, and the silence was filled by his usual refrain: — ...the company of those idiots you're constantly getting into trouble with.

He fell silent, folding his arms across his chest and glancing at your profile.

— And don't look at me like that, he finally stood up, allowing you to roll over. His golden-brown eyes held their habitual reproach, — Yesterday, you found it much more interesting to stare at your phone than to read your books. You'll have to wing it during the exam. I'll give you ten minutes; otherwise, I'm pushing you out of bed.