Work Text:
Ironically, the inside of the studio seems far brighter than outside, with the late afternoon rays hitting your eyes in that uncomfortable angle. The tall and open windows let in so much light that I almost have to squint and look away when I enter.
Rafayel is up on his ladder, palette in one hand and paintbrush in the other inmersed in his work just like always. His shirt is stained and his hair is messy and sticking up at the back of his head, so I know he probably hasn’t left the house in a few days.
He most likely heard me coming in already, but the loud bang of the doors slamming shut behind me announces it just in case, I groan at the noise. He does not look away from his canvas or acknowledge my presence beyond the faint smile that spreads through his lips, and I appreciate it.
Carelessly and rather forcefully, I begin to strip off all my hunter equipment as I walk inside. I leave it littering the floor and I almost kick my holster away in anger when I trip over it. I’m too tired to even properly unbuckle my harness, so I just pull it over my head in whatever way I can and toss it aside. My phone is already turned off and I just leave it on whatever empty table I see. I don't care if I can't find it later.
The studio is so cluttered already that you can hardly tell I contributed to it.
With a groan, I plop down on the mess of blankets and pillows on the floor. My muscles ache and it takes me a while to relax them, but I feel heavy and settled once I do. The headache I’ve had all day is finally subsiding and I no longer have the urge to yell and scream at everyone around me.
I always feel oddly at peace here, it makes me want to lock myself inside this room forever.
I take a deep breath and take a moment to study the painting that Rafayel is currently working on. It depicts a red crescent moon in a starless night sky. It shines with such an unnatural glow that it is almost uncomfortable to look at. The moon is bleeding over a tumultuous sea, with roaring and engulfing waves that threaten to swallow me whole and drown me inside the canvas. The water is so dark it almost blends with the sky. However, wherever the blood drops touch it, it becomes cristaline. Tainted and sullied, but still clear and calm, even reflecting nonexistent stars. Fighting the rage of the storm surrounding it.
I feel my chest constrict and my throat close, something about it doesn't feel entirely right -or maybe it feels too right- and I am forced to look away to shake off the feeling.
I try to rest.
Unsure of how long I spent with my eyes closed –or if I had actually just fallen asleep–, I am then awakened by a sudden weight over my stomach and I drowsily blink a couple times to focus on Rafayel, laying down over me, with his arms around my waist and his legs kicking in the air. He is scrutinizing me with that curious gaze of his and those long lashes and, for a moment, I feel like I’m staring at a needy cat asking for attention.
“Rough day, huh” he whispers quietly.
I let out a tired sigh and begin brushing his messy hair back, it’s getting longer and the curls almost reach the nape of his neck “You have no idea… I wanted to murder one of my coworkers today”
Rafayel frowns, placing his cheek on my belly “Don’t do that, bailing you out would be a hassle and I don’t know what I’d do without my bodyguard. You’ll leave me totally defenseless and that would be very unprofessional of you” the vibration of his voice tickles and I stifle a giggle.
I don’t think I’ve cracked a smile all week. I feel lighter now.
“You should leave your job and stay with me only” he murmurs with a pout, looking up at me, with his eyelashes fluttering and I get distracted for a second wiping a speck of paint from his cheek.
I hum, pretending to consider it “You sure are a piece of work, but you’re still less of a headache than the Association. It's a tempting offer” Rafayel smirks as if he had received the greatest compliment.
“Good. Are you resigning then?”
I roll my eyes “No. You know I can’t” I state, like I have repeated multiple times before this.
An unwilling part of me still thought of it, though.
He clicks his tongue and frowns “Don’t get my hopes up like that, you're rude ” he plays with the cuffs of my right sleeve until he manages to unbutton it, then rolls it up to leave my forearm exposed. His hands are very cold on my skin as he traces the outline of a scar that runs from my elbow to my wrist. I remember the time he drew a vine over it –it made me sad to wash that one off.
Rafayel’s touch is always so soothing.
“They need me, and I kind of need them too” I feel like I am convincing myself more than him.
He is still pouting, so I grab his face with my other hand to make him look at me. I squish his cheeks until he tries to bite my hand and I release him with a laugh.
I turn my attention back to the painting. It has more detail and color now, so I must have fallen asleep after all. With the blue drape on the floor, it looks like the waves have finally spilled out of the canvas and they’re coming for us, to swallow us into that abyssal darkness.
But the moon shines brighter with its inner light. Like a watching guardian, calming the sea with its touch, blending in with it, becoming part of it. And looking at her, I’m convinced that if the water reaches us, it’s not going to be a deadly storm in the middle of the ocean, but the pacifying embrace of the waves lulling you to sleep.
If I look closely, I can discern a shape underneath the surface, swimming in circles. Restless.
“What do you think about it?” Rafayel asks suddenly, breaking my trance.
“It’s…” I begin, but I close my mouth when I can’t find the words. I am not versed in art in the slightest and his works are always a mystery to me, so I can only describe them through rudimentary feelings “It inspires calm, oddly enough” is the closest I can get.
“Thomas said it was eerie, and creepy” he complains.
I nod “It’s eerie in a… calming way, kind of” I counter and he seems satisfied “Is it for your next exhibition? They’re gonna fight each other to buy this one, I’m sure”
Rafayael jerks his head and looks at me like I just insulted every fish in the sea “I’m not taking this one to the gallery, I don’t want anyone to see it”
I am slightly taken aback “Oh” I say, then cover my eyes with my hand, jokingly “Then I shouldn’t look at it. My apologies”
“Don’t be silly” he grabs my wrist and peels my hand away, now he is standing on his elbow, looking over me “You’re not ‘anyone’. I want you to see it. I…” it seems like he wants to say something else, but he remains quiet, sighing and averting his gaze.
I smile at him and cup his cheeks once more, gentler this time. He smells of sea salt and the chemicals used to mix pigments. I used to hate the stench of it, but it has grown so familiar that I miss it greatly when I don’t get to see him for a while.
Maybe it’s some kind of addictive substance I should be more wary of.
“I love it, Raf” I whisper, looking into his eyes. At this distance I can count the speckles of red in his irises and I can see his ears gaining that pinkish hue.
He looks away, bashful, and wiggles out of my hold to rest his head now on the crook of my neck.
The thought of telling him to move away, to put some distance between us, to maintain some semblance of professionalism –even if it's just a smidge– briefly crosses my mind. This is a work relationship after all, is it not? But I’m so comfortable like this. I came in so tired and so angry, and now it feels like whatever happened doesn’t matter. Anything going on outside those doors is someone else’s problem and the only thing I should care about is this merman on top of me.
So I wrap my arms around his neck and he does the same again around my torso.
“I’ll sleep here tonight” I say after a long while in silence staring at the ceiling. The sun is nowhere to be seen now, but the moon is so bright the whole room is still illuminated.
“Sure, invite yourself over, it’s not like it’s polite to ask permission first” he says, but I can feel his smile against my collarbone.
“Come on, I rest so much better here. You can even sing me to sleep”
He huffs “I’m gonna have to charge you for that. I will turn off your alarm so you don’t leave in the morning”
“Beat you to it” I laugh, twirling a curl around my finger, his skin prickles where I graze it “I took the day off tomorrow”
His eyes glimmer like a child’s “For real?” I nod.
“The rest of my week is all yours, we can do whatever you want”
“That’s great” is the last thing I hear him say.
I don’t remember when exactly we fell asleep or who was the first one to, but we did not move from that cushioned spot on the floor. When I wake up my back will hurt and my neck will feel sore, but our legs will be tangled together, my hand will still in his hair and he will be breathing steadily with his head on my chest, unconsciously gripping my shirt as if I would get up and leave at any moment.
I let the sun rays be the ones to wake him up.