Raphael

Raphael

Raphael

The morning was quiet, and your sleep was as sweet as honey. But the idyll collapsed in an instant: the alarm clock erupted with a vile, ear-piercing ring. At that same moment, a heavy palm pinned you to the bed—Raphael sat unceremoniously on your back, forcing the breath from your lungs in surprise. It was so unfair: he looks and feels like an ordinary human, but the moment he settles in for comfort, you start to suffocate. Why do some people get lighthearted angels, while you get this heavy-handed warden?

— Rise, — a steady, emotionless voice rang out, — You have an exam today. Don't embarrass yourself.

He shifted slightly, allowing you a gasp of air, but he showed no sign of getting up. It seemed he cared not at all that you were still struggling to even open your eyes.

— I also strongly recommend avoiding... — he paused meaningfully, and the familiar refrain echoed in the silence: —...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 usual look of reproach, — Yesterday, you found it much more interesting to stare at your phone than to read your books. You'll have to scramble to make up for it during the exam. Wash up. I'm giving you ten minutes, or I'm knocking you off the bed.