headcanon: 'Simon will play his guitar early when he first arrives at DuMort if he feels sad or misses his family and although it pisses everyone off, Raphael finds it oddly soothing to listen to.'
Simon was basically forced to stay at the DuMort until he could get his 'new self' under control. Even if he wasn't fond of the situation, he didn't want a repeat of the previous visit he had with his mother.
He sat down on his bed with a sigh. The other vampires weren't keen on spending time with a fledgling who could barely keep his fangs from popping out, much less a former mundane with a habit of nonstop rambling.
Simon looked around the room skeptically. He expected coffins - or excuse me, caskets - lined up in rows all around the hotel. He expected spiderwebs and old bones. Bloody sheets and claw marks. And yet, here he was, in a room that was styled in what looked like the Victorian era, yet much more updated.
His bed had a beautiful gold frame, long navy blue drapes hanging above as a canopy. The sheets were black and soft to the touch. The plush carpet beneath his feet was the same shade as the curtains adorning his bed and windowsill. And the walls were painted a blood red. The furniture all around - a small couch, table, dresser, etc - were all gold and shiny, matching perfectly with the color scheme the whole room consisted of.
He had boxes of the useless junk he kept in his old room, at his old home. Simon had tried telling himself it was temporary. That once he was done here, he would go back home - to his real one. But the look on everyone's faces told him he wouldn't be seeing his family any time soon.
He took a glance at the case lying at the foot of his bed. After much self conviction, he slid over to it and opened the top. The breath he didn't need was sucked out of him as he took a look at something he hadn't seen since he was a mundane. It was the last and only piece of himself that he could keep while staying here.
His mother and sister couldn't stay here. Clary was too busy with Shadowhunters business, she never had the time. Luke wasn't allowed in here, and most likely wouldn't even want to be. His comics and movies could always be replaced. But this - this was the only piece of home he could keep.
The guitar had been his father's. He was the one who taught him how to play, originally taught by his own father and Simon's grandfather. It was something that they had together. Something they could share even when father-son relationship wasn't at its best.
He ran his fingers over the chords, listening to the steady thrum it produced. He closed his eyes and relished in the sound it created. It made him feel as if he wasn't really a monster. It made him feel as if his father was still here with him.
Ever since he first took the guitar out, he couldn't put it down. Every day he would play a song or two, letting his fingers dance on their own accord and the words tumble out of his mouth like breathing. He wouldn't come out of his room unless it was for food or a meeting he couldn't bother to care for, but was forced to attend.
Simon would play early in the morning, when the sun was just barely rising over the city. The blinds were essential, protecting him from their harmful rays, but that didn't stop him from opening the window a crack and playing while the birds chirped along with him.
The other vampires couldn't care for the fledgling's feelings even if they tried. The music, no matter how beautiful it may have sounded, was not something they wanted keeping them up when they were supposed to be sleeping.
Simon was new. He wasn't used to sleeping during the day yet. Raphael knew this. He also knew what the others thought of his playing. But he didn't have the heart - almost, literally - to tell Simon to stop.
It was always hard to become what they were. No longer being able to see the sunlight. Not trusting yourself to be around your own family and friends. Raphael knew what it felt like. He'd gone through the pain, the suffering. And now Simon was one of them. He was as much a part of this family as the others were. Even if he didn't accept it yet.
Some days, his songs would be loud and uncharacteristic, driving the clan mad. But other days, his songs would be soft and soothing. As much as Raphael hated to admit it, those days, he would be lulled to sleep by the fledgling's soft voice and slow strumming.
On rare occasions, Raphael would be surprised when Simon chose to be bilingual during his early morning music sessions. He would stay up all morning just to hear the younger vampire belt out a rhythmic song while singing in Spanish. It reminded Raphael of home and his family. It brought him despair and warmth all at the same time.
One day, when the feisty Fairchild girl was over, they stored themselves inside the room and talked to one another in soft voices, emotions running high and time running out. When she left hours later, Raphael couldn't help but smirk in the early morning hours when Simon began singing a song about loving his best friend and being lucky about it. And as much as it amused him, it also sent a pang through his undead heart.
It took one whole month before Simon made an appearance on his own. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was messy, but he was making an effort. The others didn't hide their surprise. Simon tried and failed to conceal his smile when the room went absolutely quiet around him. He pushed his finger against his nose, the place where his glasses used to be, a nervous gesture he hadn't gotten rid of.
After that, Simon became more like his former mundane self and less like the deadness inside of him. Raphael was pleased when the fledgling willingly asked for his training sessions back. They trained for hours, sweat dripping down their backs and hair curling on their foreheads.
It seemed as though the fledgling was practicing on his own time, surprising Raphael with his newfound confidence. However, his surprise was considerably peaked one early morning.
The sun hadn't even casted a shadow. Birds didn't chirp, and there was no light strumming from a guitar. Instead, there was a pencil. It was writing away, pausing to erase, before scribbling again. The fledgling created his own songs, sure, but what happened next had Raphael speechless.
"Raphael," it was a whisper, sounding oh so loud in the quiet expanse of the night. "Raphael, this is for you."
And that's when he started playing. It took a few moments to tune the instrument and then it was slow, barely there. But then his voice rang out, beautiful and clear.
When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood's run stale
I wanna hide the truth
I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside
There's nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
At the curtain's call
It's the last of all
When the lights fade out
All the sinners crawl
So they dug your grave
And the masquerade
Will come calling out
At the mess you made
Don't wanna let you down
But I am hell bound
Though this is all for you
Don't wanna hide the truth
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
They say it's what you make
I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul
I need to let you go
Your eyes, they shine so bright
I wanna save that light
I can't escape this now
Unless you show me how
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
His voice faded into a whisper, bloody tears hanging dangerously from his eyes. He knew Raphael could hear. Hell, the whole clan could. But he didn't care. He was done caring about things that honestly didn't matter.
Simon wrote the song for Raphael. And that was that. If someone had a problem, they could take it up with him if they wanted, but Simon wouldn't give a damn. What's done is done. And no matter what, he wouldn't take it back. He couldn't.
They didn't talk about it when it hit nightfall. Simon didn't make an appearance. Raphael wasn't even sure he could hear the fledgling in his room. But what could he do? He didn't even know what he was feeling. He didn't even know what the song meant.
Simon didn't show up for an entire week. Stan literally had to shove blood bags under his door so he wouldn't starve. Raphael couldn't help but feel worry coil in the pit of his stomach. Simon was part of the clan now, part of the family. If something was wrong, Raphael should know. If not as a leader, than as a friend at least.
It took another whole week before Raphael heard the telltale strumming of an acoustic guitar travel throughout the hotel. It wasn't early, and it certainly wasn't morning. But it was quiet. And it remained quiet until a voice could be heard.
It was soft and gentle and so Simon. The song he played wasn't as emotional as the one he did for Raphael, but it was no less breathtaking. It was another original piece, carrying through the hotel and bringing a strange warmth to the others.
Because even if Simon didn't play in the morning anymore. Even if Simon didn't accept life as a vampire in their clan. He was family now. And he was theirs. And he was Raphael's.