Date: Fri, 6 Jun 2008 00:10:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ian Lewis <inlwtx@yahoo.com>
Subject: Raphael

Welcome to the world of Tobias Gray. Right now, it's a
bleak, lonely place, and it has some foul language,
violence, and same sex relationships between teens.
And if that's alright with you and the law, then it's
alright with Tobias. He certainly needs someone to
talk to. But if it's not your thing, then maybe Tobias
and you would be better off if you didn't read any
further.


There was one new arrival to the Easton Boys Dormitory
in January. He was  a tall but skinny youth, with a
defeated expression, a polite but forced smile, and he
was hunched over as if carrying some great weight. In
fact, he carried very little; only a beaten up pack
and a large duffel crisscrossed his back. He was near
silent as he checked into his room, he took the key,
mumbled an introduction and began the trek up to his
new home on the 5th floor.

Easton was the home to most of the male population at
the Bellwether Academy. Some of the faculty were
residents, and half of the male students were. You
see, the entire point of the academy was to get the
unfortunate children out of their homes and out of the
hair of their parents for whatever reason. As a
result, the students had various idiosyncrasies,
ranging from social ineptitude to downright miscreant
behavior. It made for a very interesting mix of
students. But as any group of young people do when
they are holed up with nothing else but each other for
months, they developed a general community, and with
few exceptions, got along with each other.

The 5th floor, being the most tedious to access, was
always reserved for the newest arrivals to the
dormitory. The new boy was somewhat relieved by this,
for he didn't feel like interacting with anyone, let
alone with the older boys who were bound to be pushy
and cruel to younger boys. So, with a relieved sigh,
he arrived unmolested to his room.

*     *     *

I had reached the point of not-thought by time I made
it to my room. The roulette wheel had picked up speed
to where the individual colors were a blur. I had
flickered between despair and hate and anger and guilt
and fear and times when I felt like I could actually
fucking do this. But now I was in between. I had a new
chapter, a roomate to get along with, and my last year
of high school to finish. And I had this in front of
me no matter how screwed up my emotions are. So, I had
resolved to shove it all into tomorrow. I'd deal with
it when I had time. Until then, I'd just get by.

My room was pristine. The two beds were stacked, both
made carefully. There was not any sign of imperfection
on the walls the floors, the desk. I doubt the room
had looked quite this good when it was first made.
There was no sign of a roommate, and it became clear
that I didn't have one. "Finally," I thought.
"Something's  going right." I tossed my bag down and
hiked up to the top bunk. I took my baseball cap out
of my bag and set it over my eyes. I fell asleep
rather quickly, thankfully.

The phone woke me. I jumped, nearly falling before I
realized how high up I was. Stumbling out of the bed,
I slapped down hard on the ground, the carpet stinging
my feet. Gonna have to work on that, I though. I
didn't know why anyone would call at this hour, but I
couldn't just ignore it.
"hello?"
"Tobias? Is that you?" hearing that voice brought a
fierce grin to my lips.
"Alyssa! How did you get my number, sis?"
"from the room papers they sent dad. I had to get them
from the trash, if you can believe it." my voice
dropped at the mention of my father.
"Yeah. I can. Why didn't you call my cell?"
"He said he's going to start checking the phone
bill... don't feel bad. He'll come around."
"Thanks sis, but, let's not talk about that."
"How is it?"
"It looks great. Everyones so friendly. I'm looking
forward to it." as much as I hated lying, I didn't
want her to worry.
"Good. Maybe you can find... You know, a boyfriend."
"I already have one." in the background, I could hear
the creak of a door opening. And then I heard my
fathers voice.
"Who are you talkin to, lyssa?"
"A friend from school, dad."
"No its not. 'Sthat faggot, isn't it?" I heard the
lopsided cadence to his words, the slurring. Oh shit.
Dad never drinks.
"Wait dad, no!" I hear him loud and clear.
"Faggot boy! I thought I got rid of you! I told you to
stay the fuck away from my family!" I didn't bother
with answering.  "And I don't won't you callin 'im,
stupid girl! He don't exist to us no more!" I heard
the unmistakable crack of an open palm on a face and
my sister cry out. That's too far.
"You drunk bigot, if you touch another hair on her
head, I'll kill you!"
"You'll WHAT?" *click* the line went dead.

I couldn't believe it. He hit my sister. The man whom
I'd called father and friend for 17 years threw me out
of the house, disowned me, but he did not have to
touch her. She was the only one left on my side, the
only one I'd cared for. And now she had to put up with
him. Were I not halfway across the country, I'd go
there and save her. We'd find a way.

Now that i was riled, there was no way I could find
sleep again. I busied myself unpacking what little I
had, hanging my clothes up and trying to make the room
a little more personal. It didn't take long. Once i
reached around to the bottom of the bag my hand closed
around a familiar object. It was a carving, minuscule
and perfect,  of yours truly. My best friend Jacob had
carved it for me, and it had taken him nearly two
months. Those two months were the nexus of our brief
but sincere relationship, which developed after we
learned how much we enjoyed each other's company, or
the warmth of our arms around each other. We never
went all the way, but that's only because we believed
that we had all the time in the world. I set his
carving on the shelf with a tear in my eye, and the
irrational hope that  maybe he was unpacking my
drawing of him at the same moment, miles away,
wherever he was. Of course the facial features weren't
that recognizable, but my hair, clothing, and awkward
teenage height were unmistakable.

Now that I'd thought of Jacob again, I closed my eyes
and daydreamed of him, his face appearing instantly as
if he'd been on my eyelids all along. I could see the
fierce grin that lit up his face whenever he saw me,
and the vacant, innocent expression he'd take when we
lay together, with me tousling his unkempt hair and
him thinking about our future together. I could feel
that spot in the small of my back warm up, like his
hand was were he liked to put it when he was kissing
me. Even the kiss that ruined my life had scrambled my
brain, making me wonder how I'd managed to stay
upright.If we'd hadn't been seen, I would have carried
on like that for a week. But it only took a few
moments, and bam, the son of one of dad's bosses walks
in, bam, we're both outed, bam, I'm disowned, bam,
we're shuffled off as far away as possible. And the
rest, is history.

I was snapped back to reality my cell phone vibrating.
Curious, I flipped open the display. It was my little
sister, calling from her cell.
"Hey Lyssa? What's up? I thought you said you couldn't
call my cell?"
"It doesn't matter anymore! Oh god, Tobias!" Her voice
sounded hysterical, her throat raw. Damn it, if he'd
put his hands on her!
"What did he do to you, Alyssa? Did he hurt you?"
"No Toby... Tobias, they're dead! Both of them! James,
they're gone!" My world dwindled down to a pinprick of
light and sound. I was aware of nothing except the
tired voice of my sister...
"Alyssa, no... what? ... how? Oh God..."
"They crashed! He was drinking and she tried to stop
him but he drove off and oh god oh god..."
"Alyssa. Hey, hey. Listen to me. It's gonna be
alright. Calm down. Have you called anyone?"
"Yeah, everyone's on their way!"
"Listen to me. Stay on the phone with me. Go outside,
make sure with you're with someone. You shouldn't be
alone. It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna fly there as soon
as I can to be with you. I need you to hold on for me,
okay?"
"Yeah, okay. Okay."
"Are you with someone."
"Yeah. I'm out here with the paramedic. I can see Mr.
Dowell pulling up now." My heart skipped a beat. Mr.
Dowell was the gay bashing, bible thumping bigot who'd
trained his son to report on me when he saw us. He was
also my father's supervisor who'd threatened to fire
him if he didn't straighten me out, so to speak. I'd
never seen him face to face, but I still hated him and
all he stood for. I wanted him to have nothing to do
with my sister. She stayed on the line breathing
softly. I hear her say quietly, "Yes, it's him." Then
I hear another voice on the line. It's hard and
precise, betraying no emotion.
"Listen boy. Your father wanted me to take care of
your sister in case anything happened to them. So, I
have graciously agreed. But understand this: You and
your kind are not welcome in my house. Do not call, do
not write, and if you even think about showing up on
my property I will personally have Chief McClanahan
write you up on trespassing charges. So stay away. Do
you understand?" Without thinking, a few choice words
leapt to my mouth but all I could get out was "Listen,
you!" before the line went dead. They were taking my
sister away. The realization slowly drained the warmth
from my extremities, and soon all my limbs went numb
and cold. "Well." I thought. "This is it... they
finally destroyed me." I couldn't even shed a tear,
because I'd cried enough for a lifetime. A lifetime
that just didn't make any sense without the only two
people I loved in the world shut away from me. I had
no clue where my Jacob was, and I didn't doubt Mr.
Dowell's word. He was in with the right people, and
him and his homophobic clique could very well make
life difficult for me. Well, more difficult. Like in a
dream, I felt myself mechanically sit up, and jump
down to the floor. Not bothering with a coat, I
slipped outside my room and walked down the hallway. I
passed a boy, who of all things, wore a white jacket
and a aura of contentment. As he passed, me, I saw a
look of concern flash across his face, but it was
quickly replaced by a radiant smile. I returned the
gesture, but quickly dismissed the boy. "Too late,
now." I thought.  At the end of the hallway, there was
a door marked "ROOF ACCESS-AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY"
It was unlocked, and it slid open silently. I stepped
up onto the roof top, and nearly fell from the gravel
on it. There were a few vents and antennas, but other
than that the roof was large and featureless. I
stepped outside of myself as I walked to the  edge. I
saw myself, a young, foolish boy, who had much to
learn about the world but never would. I saw the
baseball cap on my head, the one he'd bought me for my
birthday. I saw the slim braided bracelet she'd made
me before I'd left. And I saw the lives they'd have to
live without me. My thoughts were peaceful now,
poetic. "I won't be cursed to walk the earth alone.
So, I'll fly." Like the gravity of the world was
focused before me, I drifted near the edge, and let
go. I was flying. and as I cleared the building, I
could swear I could see the shadow of my wings, and
hear them push through the wind... and then, darkness.

------------------------------------------------------

Outside the academy, there was a solitary figure on the roof top, with no
one else to watch. Even if they had, there was no clear explanation for
what took place. A careful step, of leap of faith, and a bright flash.
Darkness descended over the building again, and the snow swirled round and
round, covering up any signs or foot prints.

------------------------------------------------------

I'd never wondered what the first thought, if any, do people have after
they commit suicide. I had several, and to be honest, I wasn't keeping
track of which one came first. "Oh god, it hurts!" and "What the hell did I
just do!" and "Where am I?" were the ones screaming the loudest. My eyes
were closed, and it didn't feel like I could open them, so I tried to sit
up. That was a king in a long line of bad ideas. Every bone in my body felt
shattered, every muscle and tendon snapped and pulled like a tug of war
rope. I tried to scream, dear god I tried to scream, but my lungs felt
shredded and useless. Well. What did I expect my first few moments as a
jumper to be like?

After I'd nearly shut out the pain, and the weakness, and the despair, I
became aware of another sensation. It was a hand, on my chest. It was warm,
and otherwise unremarkable, except for the fact that it felt profoundly
right. It became all I could think about, like it was pulling me back,
forbidding me from shuffling of any mortal coils. I was dimly aware of
small movements under my skin, bone mending and shifting and other tissues
knitting back together. I got the impression that such a thing would
normally cause excruciating pain. As cliche as it sounds, I felt as new as
the day I was born. When the process was complete, I could open my eyes. I
had to squint because of the brightness. I was in some small white room,
but it seemed to be shimmering and shifting. I could see the hand on my
chest, and I looked up to see who it belonged to.

He was a youth, but not in any normal sense. I say that because he seemed
ageless, as if he could be 10 years older than me or 10 years younger. I
say youth because of his relative size. And I say "he," because he looked
like a boy more than a girl, but could probably be either one. Either way,
he was beautiful. He had exquisite features, immaculate cheekbones, grey
eyes, and pale white hair. It was as if the sculptor that designed everyone
else had shuffled them off to apprentices, but saved this particular piece
for himself. And he was smiling at me.

"O, that I had arrived sooner. I might have saved you from some
discomfort." His voice was like he was, careful and beautiful and musical.

"Where... am I?" My voice grated against the peaceful silence his had
left. It felt like I hadn't spoke in ages.

"You are still here, as it is not yet your time. You are yet in my care."

"So, who are you then?"

"I am Raphael. I am he who is given to those in need of healing, and I have
returned to this world for you."

"So, you're... you're an..."

"Your kind has long called us angels." With that, he stood up, and the
world around me shifted and moved, and I could see that he had folded his
enormous wings around me. As he retracted them, the world suddenly got
colder. He folded them around his shoulders, and with a subtle shifting and
a trick of the light, they formed a silken jacket on his shoulders. He
extended his hand to me again, and I took it. Easily but carefully he
pulled me up, and I wavered. The world seemed clearer. Sharper. New. I took
a step, tentative. I stumbled, and he caught me. He had a strength about
him, silent and calm and not quite human. I realized I didn't mind having
his arm around me. For a long time, I didn't say anything. When I spoke, it
was quiet, and fearful.

"So what do I do now?"

"Right now? You rest. I've held you from death's grasp, and what you've
been through has exhausted you greatly, even though you can't feel it. But
your body isn't all I've been sent to heal. We'll have much to discuss when
you awake, my friend. But for now, let nothing trouble you." He put a hand
on my face, an affectionate gesture, but more like a mother's than a
lovers. I looked into his eyes, and saw age, and wit, and kindness, and
love. I could tell those eyes had seen joys and horrors, and I figured what
I'd done was one of the latter. I don't know if he knew when he saw me on
my way to death, or if some divine insight had sent him fluttering down to
save me. I'd consider it later. But I suddenly felt tired, and leaned into
him without even thinking. He smiled, and unfurled his wings again, and I
could just dimly sense flying in an angel's arms up to my room.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I maintained a small sense of hope in all things. Tobias and I were opposed
in this, so it became my duty to cheer him up. To hold him and tell him
that there was a chance it might work out, so there's no point in giving
up. I wasn't exactly religious, but I didn't think it coincidence that I'd
met him. He would sit across from me on the bus when we were younger and
stress and worry and fret, and it amused me before I realized it was
tearing him down. We were kids then, and although we can barely say we've
matured, we didn't have love or hate on our minds. Life was simple for us,
and we were going to grow up and take on the world together. I'd convinced
him of that. So we were friends, before we even needed lovers, before we
even needed boyfriends.



I didn't blame my father for sending me here. Sure, I was disappointed. I'd
hoped his love for me would have outweighed any political or social
demands. But he had placed a lot of stock in his work, and he really didn't
want the negative attention he'd get from having a son "like me" around.
It's not that he was opposed to the idea, I don't think his morals quite
extended that far. I just think it served him better to shuffle me off for
some alternative education. I think I'm better off here, though. Better to
be away from all the hate and disgust from the same people who I'd lived
and worked with all my life. I had a new start. A clean slate. And as soon
as I was reunited with Tobias, we'd pick up where we'd left off. That was a
treat worth waiting for.

When we started, there was of course plenty of awkward teen gesturing
between us, but none of usual confusion with having feelings for a guy.
Tobias was mine, and I, his. I knew his moods, his desires, his
expressions. He was introspective, and it was often me who started our
conversations, but once I got him to open up, we could talk for hours. We
fought too, like any other couple. I wanted him always to see the good in
the situation, but it was hard for him to. We often disagreed, and yelled,
and ignored each other for some hours, but it only seemed to bring us
closer.

And while my thing was music, his was drawing. He could sketch like a
master. He once drew the world from the viewpoint of my window, which
promptly found a home next to the real one. I made him blush for a week by
swearing that I'd hit my head trying to look out his window. And the
drawings of me were his favorite. He'd work on them for days trying to hide
them, all the while stealing glances at my while I played, trying to catch
this angle, or that lighting. And then he'd self consciously show me and
I'd insist that the drawings were perfect but he needed to pick a better
looking subject. I kept his last one with me. Always. My handiwork was rude
and crude, though. I'd put to use a couple of my grandfather's carving
lessons to use and made a figurine of him, and it damn near took me the
month. I'd painted it painstakingly and presented it to him on our last
meeting. Maybe he had it with him. I could only hope.

We had a running joke between us: I gave him a key. E flat minor, to be
specific. He insisted that all keys sounded the same, and I in turn
insisted that he was tone deaf. I told him it was his key because it was
melancholy and sweet, and moody, and utterly gray.  When that didn't amuse
him, I told him that it was especially like him because it's the key that
sounded best under my fingers. That got me one of his rare grins. It was
the key I played in when I sung to him, and it was the key I first turned
to in my room, on my first night away from him. My guitar cried the tears
that I couldn't cry, wouldn't cry, because I knew I'd see him again. But my
guitar didn't know that, and she missed him too. So I consoled her, and
consoled the part of me that knew Tobias needed saving again and that there
was nothing I could do.

Like I said, I'm not exactly religious, but in the phrases of my tears, and
the notes of my sadness, there came a wordless prayer, unbidden, a prayer
in e flat. And If I didn't hear an answer, then my name's not Jacob James
Harrison.

I smiled, and my tune picked up the pace, and became a lively round, and I
was sure to write down the changes. I was gonna play it for Tobias when I
saw him next, because somehow I knew it was gonna be soon.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I awoke, my thoughts, as they often do, turned to Jacob. I thought
back to something he'd said about names. I stopped calling him Jake after I
noticed that he never called me Toby, like everyone else. I asked him why,
and he gave me one of those smiles and said, "Names have power. Tobias is
the name you were given, and when I say your name, I want you to know that
I'm referring to you in every sense of the word. I think that when you love
someone it's worth it to say their name." I had nothing really to say to
that, except to put my arm around him in agreement. He helped the world
make sense. I wasn't stupid, but it was like Jacob had some special insight
into my world that he always knew what I needed to hear. And now, that he
was... somewhere, and I had no chance, no hope. I knew I'd do something, I
just needed a direction.

"He thinks of you. Even now." I bolted upright, and saw he... she... it
again, sitting up in the opposite bunk. The events of the last night
snapped through my head again.

"Oh god... it happened?"

"Yes... You sought to end your life. And I am tasked to show you what you
still have to live for."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I have not yet been informed."

"From....?" I gestured vaguely up.

"Precisely."

"Can you ask him why he's doing this to me?"

"Doing what?"

"This! All of this! I'm alone and trapped and I don't know what to do and
he's god knows where and my parents are dead and my sister needs me and"

"Calm down brother. There is still good in the situation."

"What, I'm still alive!? Oh yeah, that's great. I didn't asked to be
saved!"

"But he did."

"Why would he care! He'd doing this to me! Why should he force me to stay!"

"You misunderstand me. I am referring to the same "he" that your thoughts
never stray from. As I said, he thinks of you. Even now."

"Who? Jacob? Where is he! Tell me!"

" I have not yet been given this information."

"Well what DO you know!?"

"All I was told was that there was someone here who needed saving, because
someone who loves them more than their self asked for it. I passed you in
the hall, and saw the despair in your eyes, and leaped down after you.I've
been watching over you ever since. Your Jacob must love you more than
anything, for such an unusual request to be tasked to me personally." I
instantly regretted getting angry with him. I'd been so stupid, and once
again Jacob had a little hope for me.

"Yes. He loves me, and I love him more than anything."

"I do not doubt you. Rest more, Tobias, it is not yet dawn." I laid back
down and was silent staring at the ceiling for what seemed like an hour.

"Raphael?"

"Yes?"

"How often has this been done? You know, you coming down..."

"To Earth? Only once. But that was long before your time. Only a few
records still exist of my deeds here among men."

"Yes. Yes he does love me."

*     *      *      *      *      *

And now for something completely different. This story has been in my mind
in bits in pieces for a while, and once I met my characters, it was enough
to make me take up this writing thing again. This of course won't be going
on indefinitely, and I'm already sitting on a few different directions the
plot will go. But stick with me, and I'll try to show you a good story, ok?

Comments, criticism, love mail, hate mail to: inlwtx@yahoo.com. Hope you like.