Work Text:
The day was bright, and the sun kissed your skin gently, a breeze constantly dusting the warmth away and replacing it with a fresh coolness. The polluted noise of the city is soon replaced by the chirping of birds in nearby trees and the screeching of seagulls flying where blue meets blue. It’s quiet and calm, a certain rhythm carries in the way things move around you as you walk against the wind.
As you near Rafayel’s art studio, a steady buzz thrums in your chest. You feel the sun brushing your cheeks again, and you can’t help but feel excited. The day is bright. Yet surely Rafayel will shine brighter. Today was an important day for him, and he specifically requested you as his plus one. Maybe for “safety reasons,” as he so claimed—you were his bodyguard… of sorts. A trained hunter at the least. And this would be a huge event—artists, patrons, celebrities, donors, and press alike—swarms of eyes would rest on Linkon’s most renowned painter.
The opening ceremony for his newest, largest art exhibition would take place at Flux Arts. Rafayel couldn’t stop talking about how special it was. He was always eager and elated to talk with you about his art, and you were always more than willing to listen, but something in his eyes told you this time was different. The way he squinted slightly whenever talking about it, smiling with his eyes, and being secretive with his words. His language was vague, and his voice took on a foreign tone whenever you asked. It was peculiar, for sure, and it had your thoughts slinking around in a mixture of nerves and excitement. This felt like a huge deal—such a surprise. And you were his date, his plus one. Either way, whatever intention he had, all attention would be on the two of you, because of course it would. Who is this person accompanying the Great Rafayel this evening? Should we carefully observe and scrutinize their every move? It was all very overwhelming indeed.
Before you realize it, you see you’ve muscle-memoried your way to Rafayel’s door, standing there stupidly as your anxious thoughts slowly begin to evade you again. You blink, taking in a deep breath before knocking the special knock you’ve made for his door.
Very little time passes before the door opens and a stumbling Rafayel greets you. “Hey there, cutie. You’re right on time.” He’s leaning over you against the doorframe.
“A foreign concept to you.” You smile sarcastically.
Rafayel feigns offense when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and pouts. “How about a hello?” He stands up straight and opens the door wider for you to walk inside.
“Hello, Rafayel.” You sing sweetly, a bright smile on your face. The warmth of the outdoors fades from your back as you walk into the air-conditioned studio. Rafayel closes the door behind the two of you.
It’s just as bright inside, the floor-to-ceiling windows sending beams of light into the studio. It seems Rafayel was just in the middle of painting, as there is a canvas with a fresh wash of pale blue paint on the opposite side of the room. Paintbrushes and old paint tubes are scattered across the floors, and Rafayel himself smells of wet paint. When he gets close, you can’t help but breathe him in.
“I thought you’d need help getting ready and things.” You bend down to unlace and zip off your boots. Casually, Rafayel kneels beside you, helping you slip the other off.
“I’ll always accept help from you.” He smiles. “Could you help me choose what to wear?”
As you step out of your shoes and your sock-clad feet meet the cool wood flooring, you stand straight again. “I’d love to. I’m not the best at fashion, though.”
You watch as Rafayel ascends up the stairs to the house part of the building. “No need to be so humble. Sometimes I wonder if you’re even better than me. The hunter uniform is the only reason you haven't been scouted as a runway model.”
You snort, and Rafayel grins in response, disappearing around the corner. You trail behind him. “Me? Better than the god of styling himself? Never.”
Once the two of you are up the stairs, he leads you to his bedroom. It’s surprisingly neat. Especially compared to the colorful chaos and disorder of the main studio area downstairs. Rafayel must have purposefully chosen this building because of how the sun always shined so perfectly into the windows. His room was just as flooded with sunlight as downstairs, with dappled light dancing through tree leaves with the fluidity of ocean waves. His bed was made, surprisingly, and his clothes lay carefully on the small bench at the foot of it. You approach the pile, reaching out and unfolding each item to see them fully.
“I was conflicted between that periwinkle blouse and the red one.” His voice rings behind you. You turn to see his pensive gaze, a hand on his chin.
“Well, which one do you like better? Do either fit the theme of your exhibition?” You lay the blouses side by side on the end of his bed.
He hums for a moment, walking to stand beside you. His hand comes to rest on his hip, and you look at him as he thinks.
“I think both could match equally. That’s why I’m asking you. Which one do you think is prettier?”
“I think they’re both pretty, Rafayel.”
Rafayel groans, bringing his hands to his face in exaggerated exasperation. “I thought you said you’d help me, we can’t both be indecisive here!”
You laugh and nod your head, taking a deep breath and returning your gaze to the blouses. “You’re right. I’ll be more serious.” You bring your hand to your chin as he does.
You considered both of his options carefully. The periwinkle blouse was a unique material that sparkled slightly depending on how the light hit it. It had silvery buttons along the cuffs and front, and on the back of the blouse was a thin embroidered fish design. It was lovely and would complement his soft features and color palette well.
The red blouse was made of silky material. It was a deep crimson and adorned with draping beads and sparkling red crystals. You notice a thin wrapping piece of fabric for his neck next to it—the perfect accessory to tie the entire look together. It was simple yet dazzling. It was bold and different from most other things he had worn to events recently. The contrast in color between Rafayel’s dusty mauve locks and this shirt would be divine.
“This one.” You say, pointing and smiling at the red blouse. “It’s different. I think it will suit you amazingly.”
Rafayel smiled brightly, his eyes twinkling, expression very obviously giddy. “I was secretly hoping you’d say that because I think this one suits you best as well.”
Confused, you turn to face him now, an eyebrow raised. “But… isn’t this your shirt? I don’t think it will fit me.”
Rafayel chuckles and pats the top of your head. You scoff and try to grab his wrist, but he’s somehow quicker and uses this opportunity to take your hand in his.
“I have a surprise for you.”
𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧
Rafayel walks you to his wardrobe. He opens it and rummages through the rack for a few seconds before pulling out a wine colored gown. You stand there, stupidly, staring at it, then him, for a long moment. “What?” You demand more than ask.
Rafayel laughs again. “Why are you suddenly so confused? You’re so smart, cutie, come on.” He presents the dress to you, holding back his smile. “I thought it’d only be appropriate for me and my guest to be matching. What do you think?”
You take the dress in your hands. It’s silky smooth like his blouse. Red crystals line the spine of the dress, and beads dangle around the waist. Flowing pieces of loose fabric fall down both sides of the gown from the silky straps of the dress. It's flowy and loose, and it matches his perfectly. You look back up at Rafayel with a pleading look in your eyes. “This… It’s beautiful. I can have this?”
“Of course, silly.” His voice is as gentle as his eyes.
You two stand there for a moment, looking at one another. Rafayel rubs the back of his neck—a nervous habit of his. “I mean, our vibes should complement one another, right? I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel out of place. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, though. You look beautiful either way.”
You look down at yourself in your hunter uniform, then back up at him again, laughing. “I think this will be better. Hurry, let’s get ready quickly. Didn’t you say we had to be there early?”
Rafayel nods, looking at the clock on the wall. “Right. How’s an hour sound?”
“Oh, that’s more than enough for me.”
“Uh-huh.” Rafayel coos. “Help me when you’re done, then?” Rafayel cheeses, and you chuckle.
“Sure thing, princess.” You tease.
“I’ll be in here waiting then.”
𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧
You get ready in Rafayel’s bathroom across the hall. The dress fits you perfectly, and you make a mental note to ask him later how he was able to guess your measurements so perfectly. You never wore much makeup due to being a hunter—a job that left you constantly sweaty and exposed to the elements. You mentally cursed yourself for not at least thinking to bring anything to Rafayel’s for the event. Before you leave the restroom, a glimmer in the corner of your eyes stops you, and your eyes are drawn to the counter. There lies a few bottles of perfume, jewelry, a hairpin to match your dress, and a bag of make-up. You snicker to yourself. He really does think of everything, doesn’t he?
Once you return to Rafayel’s bedroom, you knock in your special pattern before you hear him call for you to come inside. He’s nowhere to be seen in his room, so you walk towards his bathroom and find him standing at the counter, spraying cologne on himself. As you approach, you take in his appearance carefully. The blouse suits him even better than you thought it would. The collar falls below the contours of his collarbones, and his skin glistens from… body glitter maybe? (It’s strangely patterned though… Almost like scales?) His hair is tousled, but purposefully and artfully so, and his eyes are painted faintly with subtle eyeshadows.
He smiles at you when he sees you behind him in the mirror. “You look perfect.” His eyes float over your form. “And I see you found my other gifts.”
You nod, meeting him at his side. “Yeah, thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself.”
He chuckles, hand finding your waist. You find yourselves turning to look directly at each other instead. His eyes roam over your form again, and you lower your eyes in embarrassment. He’s not even hiding it at all, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth. You feel your face heating.
“Hey, so, like, what did you need help with?”
“Right, yeah.” Rafayel shuffles over to a drawer under his sink and pulls out a small pencil. Eyeliner. “This.”
You roll your eyes. About a month ago, you eagerly asked Rafayel if you could do his makeup. He gleefully obliged to participate in your experimentation and was patient throughout. Well, except for one thing.
When it came to applying his eyeliner, he was incredibly jumpy, flinching each time you even touched his face. After a serious battle with him versus the eyeliner pencil, he emerged victorious. He liked the way it looked so much he asked you to do it again someday. Today was that day, you supposed.
You couldn’t ever deny that it looked amazing on him. That you be dishonest, because the way an eyelined Rafayel affected you was criminal. It accentuated his multicolored eyes and made him even more attractive, somehow. Hissoft gaze became piercing. He gave you chills. However, you didn’t know how much you felt like going through that song and dance getting it on him again.
“You still can’t do it yourself?” You groan.
“I’m scared. I don’t need that pointy thing taking out my eyes right before my big exhibition! I only trust a master to do it right now.”
“Rafayel.” You look at him sternly. “This is a pencil. You’re an artist, and much more of a master than me. At least let me show you how to do it yourself.”
Rafayel whines out your name, taking your hand in both of his. “But we don’t have time! Thomas will surely be here soon.”
“What?” Thomas was coming? This was news to you.
“Yeah, Thomas said he’d pick us up and take us. Y'know, since he has a car and was going to pass my studio on the way there anyways.”
“We'd better get to it then! Here, sit.” You drag him across the room b your attached hands.
Rafayel sits at the vanity with you kneeling beside him. You take the pencil and place it between his fingers. He gives you an uneasy look, and you smile sympathetically at him, taking his hand in yours. “Here, I’ll guide you.”
You lean against his leg, bringing his hand closer to his face and watching him carefully.
“You shouldn’t close your eyes when you do it, or it’ll get messed up. Try your best to keep them open, ok? When you need to blink, move the pencil away.” You speak patiently and he nods, watching himself in the mirror. You help him dab away the moisture in his water line, then he tries his best to apply the brown liner to it. He struggles for a whale, tearing up and wincing, but you both laugh it off.
Rafayel sets the pencil down. “Why is my heart racing?” He speaks between giggles.
“You can’t possibly be afraid of a little pencil.” You smile, holding back your laughter.
“My eyes are very important to me, cutie.”
“Then you should get really good at doing this well.”
“Ha ha.” Rafayel rolls his eyes before attempting again.
After a few minutes, he’s finally got it, both eyes marked. It’s criminal how pretty he is.
“Look at me for a second.” Rafayel turns his head to you and closes his eyes as you drag your finger lightly along his bottom eyelids. You smudge his eyeliner to give it a softer effect. When he opens his eyes again, he smiles and takes your face in his hands. You jump slightly at the unexpected contact.
“You said you weren’t good at this kind of stuff. I knew you could do it.”
You feel your cheeks heating up again, and you take his wrists in your hands, dragging him away from your skin. “This is nothing. Besides, you did it all yourself. You should be praising you, not me.”
Rafayel continues to smile anyway. “Thank you, my bodyguard.”
You can’t stand to look at him like this and not turn into a flaming pile of goo. So, it’s perfect timing when the doorbell rings.
Rafayel stands up. “Ah, that must be Thomas. Let’s go, shall we?”
𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧
The ride to the exhibition space is calm and comfortable. It’s a lot of Thomas and Rafayel talking and making jokes, which leaves you in your head. This was by no means your first time visiting one of Rafayel’s exhibitions, nor your first time being there for one of his big events. But this time still felt so different from the others still. You were in a fancy dress instead of your hunter uniform or even casual clothes. You were matching Rafayel. You were his special guest. The hairs on your skin raise on end, and you feel a sudden chill.
Did you deserve this spot at his side? You knew you weren’t ugly, not by any means, and you were definitely a person of respect. But you weren’t sure you knew how you were supposed to behave here. Was being yourself enough for something like this, where there’d be rich people and people of power everywhere? Did Rafayel need you at his side the entire event? Embarrassing Linkon’s most esteemed artist was anything but what you wanted to do tonight. You hoped you wouldn’t stand out too much, despite the matching glamour.
In the midst of your self-doubt spiral, Rafayel reaches back from the front seat and places a hand on your knee. It startles you slightly, and you look up to meet his eye.
“Hey, cutie, we’re here.”
Thomas lets you and Rafayel out at the front of the venue before driving off to the parking garage. Rafayel closes the car door behind you and waves goodbye to Thomas. He walks and joins you at your side. The event has not started yet, as there is no press nor guests. The building’s guards open the door for the two of you to walk inside.
The inside is just as lifeless as the outside, though the art and interior architecture lift the atmosphere through their color and intricacies. Rafayel takes your hand, smiling, and leads you to the main exhibition space. Once you reach it, he begins to trail behind you as you venture deeper into the room. All of the beautiful artwork takes your breath away, and you feel yourself drawn all around the room. The pieces have a darker color palette than what is typical of Rafayel’s productions. They’re all greys and deep sea greens—midnight oceans and chaotic waves. It was far more poignant and restless than his typical peaceful ocean paintings.
One particular piece catches your eye. It's like the others—dark and moody—but there is something more. This one is vertical, tall, with glittering white splatters across the canvas. A partially obscured figure in the foreground is highlighted with red rim lighting, and above them, a bright, bloody moon shines. You feel your body move on its own towards the canvas. Slowly, you step closer and closer, and you feel a strong magnetic force drawing your fingers to touch the dried paint.
“Hey, wait.” Rafayel catches your wrist in his hand and pulls you back into him with his other hand on your shoulder. He speaks quietly, mirth in his tone. “If you touch it, an alarm will sound.”
You blink a few times, wrinkling your eyebrows and shaking your head. You sigh, your senses coming back to you. Rafayel doesn’t release his grip on you. “Sorry, I guess I was just in a trance because of how beautiful it is.”
You feel Rafayel let out a sigh behind you. “Thank you, cutie. Does this mean it’s your favorite one?”
You take a moment to look over the piece again, then loosen yourself from Rafayel’s arms and turn to face the rest of the gallery. As your gaze flows through the room, you can’t help but feel yourself moving towards the blood moon painting once again. You inevitably turn to face it.
“I mean, they’re all obviously stunning. The Great Rafayel could produce nothing short of a masterpiece.”
“But this one holds your attention the most.” He interrupts, smiling.
“It seems so, yes.” You look at the figure again. “I… I’m not sure what it is, I’m no artist after all. Maybe it’s the composition? Maybe the pop of red—that certainly is enchanting.” You walk closer to the painting again, careful to stop yourself. Rafayel watches over you closely as you speak.
“Maybe this.” You point to the figure and then turn to face Rafayel. You notice the expression he wears is a bit strange. Is he pleased? Amused? He squints his eyes.
“You hardly ever include figures in your work. Is this you?”
Rafayel walks closer to you, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Why do you think it’s me?”
You purse your lips, looking back at the piece with a critical gaze before shrugging. “I mean, I dunno. They’re very obscured in the haze, but I don’t know who else it could be. I assumed this was a personal piece or something. Like, maybe it has something to do with how you feel.” You felt a little foolish discussing his art in this manor. You were never the best at analyzing art, but you hoped your generalizations didn’t sound silly to him now.
Unfortunately, his smile widens. You couldn’t tell if he was about to make fun of you or just laugh. He comes even nearer to you as he begins to speak. “Don’t look so shy now. You’re right about that. It is personal to me.” He pauses, looking back and forth between your eyes. His fingers rest under your chin. You felt your heart beat increase slightly at the way he smirked at you. “Deeply personal.”
He leaned in, taking your hands in his and peering down at your fingers. “The figure is someone important to me.”
Your eyes are stuck on his, and you become frustrated with the fact that his emotions are so impossible to read. You beg him subconsciously to at least look at you. “Then who is it?”
Rafayel laughs quietly; his eyes finally meet yours again. His eyebrows raise, and he looks as amused as ever. “My smart little hunter really can’t understand my hints?”
You can’t help the confused expression that overtakes your face. You feel warm all over. You can’t help the way your eyes shoot to his lips. He was getting so darn close. Why did this feel so weirdly…
You open your mouth to say something, anything to break the silence, but the museum director walks in and interrupts the moment. You feel yourself push Rafayel away more forcefully than you intend. He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck again before walking to greet the director.
As they speak, you feel yourself slipping away again. You can’t help but stare at the painting, eyes wide. What was Rafayel talking about? He didn’t mean… Did he? Was the painting for you? Your eyes rake over every detail once more: the turbulent ocean, the sparkling particles, the bright burning moon, the calm figure standing against the strong wind on the shore. It was so intense. What did it all mean?
You feel Rafayel’s hand on the small of your back, and you’re snapped back into reality. The art director extends his hand to you. Oh. You suppose you should shake it.
“This is my lovely guest,” Rafayel introduces you. “They’re a part of the hunter’s association, and my appointed bodyguard. I trust them with my life.”
You smile as you receive Rafayel’s praise, turning to the director. “I’m honored to be here.”
The director nods, eyes twinkling. “Yes, yes, we’re honored to have you here. You know, I’ve worked with Rafayel and Thomas for a long time. I’ve heard lots about you.”
You can’t help the way your eyebrows raise slightly. “Oh, th-that’s..” You clear your throat. “Well, thank you for your time. This exhibition venue is beautiful.”
“Only the best for the Rafayel.” The man grins, turning to Rafayel now.
Rafayel repeats, looking at you. “Only the best.” He winks playfully.
You roll your eyes to distract yourself from the heat prickling across your skin.
The director chuckles heartily, looking between the two of you. “You two make a lovely couple. I’m so glad I could meet you,”
You blink a few times, too surprised to really combat the statement before the director walks off. Thomas eventually appears to talk with him. When you look up at Rafayel, he’s smirking down at you, eyebrows wiggling. You flick his forehead, leaving him yowling dramatically, and walk off to look at another piece of art.
𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧
Once the event starts, it starts. Crowds pour in through the doors en masse. Everyone is dressed elegantly, and famous men and women practically line up to get the chance to speak with Rafayel.
The artist makes his rounds, with you at his arm, signing photographs, prints of his artwork, and even newspaper clippings. Other famous artists occasionally come and congratulate him. They speak in foreign art jargon, and it leaves you with nothing else to do but stand awkwardly to the side.
Rafayel does his best to include you: introducing you as his loyal, gorgeous, strong bodyguard, his companion, and even sometimes his muse—that one was new. The Great Rafayel’s living muse? His flowery compliments never fail to make you smile, lifting your mood and keeping you both giggling.
Conversation after conversation, you recognize a pattern in the way people speak to Rafayel. You joke to him about it being the reason he has such a big head, and he rolls his eyes at you. They all really look up to him—even the artists who come up to him with passive aggression, you can tell their jealousy comes from a place of deep admiration. He was undeniably an inspiration to many. You could even see it in his face, the way he walked with so much class.
“You’re really special, Rafayel. Everyone adores you.” You turn to him as he signs a few autographs.
“See, your highness, won’t you acknowledge me now, then?”
“Oh, please, you’re saying all of your fans aren’t enough?” You grab his shoulder, shaking him playfully.
He swoops down low, lips practically touching your ear. “You know your opinion is the only one that matters to me.” He sings.
“Hey, look, they want to take a picture with you. Make sure they get your good side!” You rush him onwards.
You stay by his side for the first few dozen conversations, but it quickly turns overwhelming. You’re not sure how Rafayel does it.
He turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face, gently rubbing your back. “If you’re getting tired, you can take a break, cutie.”
You sigh, leaning into him so he can hear you over the crowd. “I want to be here to support you.”
He tilts his head down to your lips, speaking quieter now. Your name is careful on his tongue, “This isn’t all about me. You don’t actually have to bodyguard me tonight.”
“Rafayel, this is your event. Don’t worry about me.”
“Doesn’t my muse deserve some credit as well? Take a rest. I’ll meet back up with you soon.” That muse thing again.
He kisses your hand and walks off, despite your attempts at protest.
𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧
You’re left wandering around the venue alone. Occasionally, your eye catches Rafayel, and every time you see him looking back at you. Your heart races and you want nothing more than to join him again. He definitely wouldn’t let you though, no matter how much his gaze signaled otherwise.
After a while, you concede to find a more private space away from the crowds. Outside the exhibition space, small tables were set up for people to socialize, eat hors d'oeuvres, and drink wine. You bump into Thomas as you make your way through the room.
He apologizes before realizing it’s you. “Oh, hey. Here for a drink?” Thomas looks over your face and quickly reads your expression. “Is everything alright?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m just looking for some quiet. It’s awfully crowded in there.” You offer him a smile and he returns one to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Of course. I know a place Rafayel likes to go for fresh air. Follow me.”
Thomas leads you around a corner and into a dark and narrow hallway. Eventually, you come upon some stairs that lead to the roof of the building. Up here, you feel the cool night air kiss your cheeks and melt away your stress. You sigh against the wind and thank Thomas for helping you up here.
“No worries, let me know if you need anything else.” As he turns to descend back to the event, you stop him with a blurted question.
“Does Rafayel really tell people I’m his muse? Like, when I’m not around, I mean. Is he serious?”
Thomas pauses for a moment, chuckling before turning to face you again. “Isn’t it obvious? A big part of this exhibition is themed after you. Did he not tell you?”
You? The perplexion must show on your face with the way Thomas reacts with laughter again. “He should be up here soon. You should talk to him about it yourself.”
You turn back to face the night sky, thinking. You remember the figure: the way they stood sturdy against the chaos of the storm. You remember all of the other pieces. They were smaller than that one, all dark and desolate and hopeless. There was a certain feeling of mourning in the others, a longing for protection and peace. Although the last painting was also turbulent, it felt like a turning point, like there was something more. Rafayel never claimed the exhibition had to be consumed in some chronological order, but it was clear the vertical piece featuring the mysterious figure was meant to be last. It wasn’t exactly an ending, but definitely a sign of more to come. You wondered what it all had to do with you.
Unexpectedly, you feel something soft make contact with your back. You startle slightly before hearing a sigh that is all too familiar. Slender fingers fold around your waist, and a warmth follows. You lean back into this person, smiling to yourself.
“Hello, angelfish.” A smooth voice.
You whisper his name. “Rafayel.” He whispers yours back to you.
“I didn’t even hear you coming.” You turn your head to the side in an attempt to see him.
He speaks into your ear. “You gotta be more perceptive, my bodyguard. What if I was a wanderer?”
“Oh, so wanderers like hugs now?”
“If Heartbreaker exists, shouldn’t its antithesis?” Rafayel tightens his grip around you.
“So, what, you’re Hearthealer?” You snort.
Rafayel sighs, a smile on his lips. “You’re my Hearthealer right now.”
“Will you engage in combat with me then?” You weave your fingers into his.
“Mm, no. You’re the world’s first harmless wanderer. Do not eliminate.” He closes his eyes and you laugh.
Rafayel rests his forehead between your shoulder blades, his hair tickling the back of your neck and leaving goosebumps on your skin. He sighs and his warm breath trails down your back.
You look down as he caresses your hands with his thumbs. “You didn’t have to check on me.”
Rafayel straightens his posture, bringing the back of your head to his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my guest, of course I did. Besides, I was getting exhausted too, actually.” He groans. “You should know I hate these types of things.”
You twist your neck, looking back at him. “Really?” You had always believed he loved events like these. The constant praise and attention—it was something that just seemed to suit him and his personality. Though the more you think about it, you remember how much he avoided the spotlight before you met him. You didn’t even know what he looked like, but you had heard his name everywhere.
“Why do this at all then?”
“I have to,” Rafayel plays with the draped fabric of your dress. “Not only to keep up my image, but to appease patrons and donors, etcetera. You can be a famous artist with just skill, but your relations and connections matter almost just as much.”
“Besides,” He pauses. “This particular event was very important to me personally. I wanted to be here looking my best for you.”
“For me?” You scoff. “You know you could never not impress me, Raf.”
Rafayel hums a note in pleasure. Surely a smile paints his expression.
“I know. But still.” He smooths his hands slowly along the sides of your gown, setting off every nerve under your skin in their wake. You fight off a shiver as he moves. “I wanted everyone to see us. Together. I wanted you to see my painting and feel how I felt.”
“How you… felt?” You murmur to yourself, but he hears you.
He brings his head down to your shoulder, nodding. “You have no idea how terrible it was without you. I know you–…” He stops himself, sighing once more. “You know I can’t tell you everything now.”
You nod, understanding. “That’s ok.” This was something Rafayel has touched on many times in serious conversations with you. He expressed it as something that deeply affected him and that he would explain to you when the time was right. The time never seemed to be right, though, and you wondered if it ever would. At least this exhibition seemed to be a big step in that direction. For now, you proceeded with only patience and compassion. Though it ripped you apart how this was something you could not appropriately comfort him about, no matter how much he insisted you had already without knowing.
He continues to speak after a moment of thinking over his words. “I wanted to express how much you mean to me. How much I adore you. I’m sorry I’ve been so vague about it. You deserve clarity.”
Rafayel leans in again between your shoulders. He brings his hands up and down your arms gently. This nearly imperceptible touch still sets your skin ablaze, and you shiver and stiffen against him. The effects he had on you were embarrassing.
“Rafayel…” You mutter, but he mustn't hear you as he doesn’t react or respond in any way. Instead, he continues his ministrations, drawing his hands carefully from the tops of your shoulders and painfully slowly down the length of your arms. You can’t see it, but you feel his eyelashes flutter shut against the flesh of your nape.
You try speaking again, but you can’t control how your voice weakens this time, sounding like a strained bird. “You know you mean a lot to me too, right?” You swallow and continue going. “I’m very flattered that you decided to include me as a part of your gallery. What I mean is, I’ve never been met a gesture so sincere before. Thank you.”
He rubs his face into your skin, breathing you in and nuzzling you like a cat. He would hate that comparison. It makes you giggle to yourself.
“You’re being very feline-like right now, Raf.”
“Shh, I’m busy.”
You chuckle again. “With?”
He sighs. “You.”
Before you can speak up again to tease him, he interrupts you as he shoots a sharp breath out of his nose, evidently annoyed, and brings his hands down to your hips.
“What, can’t take jokes now?” You tease, voice still airy.
“I can, you know that. But you’re distracting me right now.” He pinches your waist gently and you squeal. Your back arches in response and he brings his lips to the back of your neck and presses himself flush against you. “You need to relax.” He mutters against you.
Your breath staggers and you feel like you’re practically gasping for air from the shock. Sure, both of you have a habit of getting too close for comfort, but this is unprecedented. He’s never… What is he…?
“What are you doing?” You whisper now, practically begging for an explanation. What the hell is going on? The whiplash from this singular conversation was making you dizzy.
Rafayel’s lips separate from your skin as he puts some space between the two of you. “Would you like me to stop?”
You pause then shake your head without thinking. “No.. No, I don’t think so.”
Rafayel fully backs away now and you have to fight off a shiver as the night air replaces the warmth of him. “I need you to know so.”
He gently grabs your hands to spin you around to face him. His eyes are unlike anything you’ve seen before. He looks so soft, so genuine. His cheeks are slightly flushed and his lips are taught in anticipation. He looks so vulnerable. You feel weak in the knees, leaning back onto the roof’s railing for support. “I do, I know so.”
“Are you sure?” He takes a step closer to you.
“What will you do?” You keep eye contact with him as he approaches cautiously. Finally, his hands grasp the railing on either side of you.
“Can I kiss you?” He was so direct and to the point. You blink a few times, flustered.
“I’d like that.”
He leans in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. His look is intense and entrancing; you can’t help but stare back. Suddenly, he smiles devilishly before diving in and capturing your lips with his. He’s tender, but not exactly gentle. Rafayel’s lips meet yours with a subdued passion. He pecks and grasps your bottom lip and lets you nip him playfully. The act was one of ease and adoration—you couldn’t believe how natural he felt with you.
He deepens the kiss, running his hands up your arms and across your back. He keeps one at the base of your neck as the other fidgets with the clip in your hair. His tongue swipes across your lips, and you whimper into him despite yourself.
Regretfully, he abruptly pulls away from you. He says your name with a strain in his voice. He seems conflicted, looking between you and the door leading back to the event.
“Rafayel, we should go back.” Your voice is hoarse so you clear your throat.
“I–” He groans, sliding his hand down his face. His lips were swollen and glossy. His eye makeup slightly smudged.
You tug on his sleeve, trying to get him to move again. You’ve both been gone for who knows how long. It would be wrong for Rafayel to ignore the event literally made to celebrate and admire his work.
Before you can tell him you both should return again, he takes your hand and leads you down another staircase you hadn’t used before.
“Rafayel! Where are we going?”
“Back home. I’m not staying here now.”
You stop in your tracks, pulling your hand out of his.
He turns around with an angry pout on his face. “Stop playing on the stairs, it’s dangerous.”
“Rafayel, this is literally your event.”
He rolls his eyes petulantly. “I don’t want to be there anymore, especially without you. If you’re tired, I’m tired. We’re leaving.”
“You can’t just leave without saying anything!” You cross your arms over your chest and don’t miss the way his eyes flicker downward.
Without warning, he backs into you, suddenly hoisting you onto his back to continue down the stairs. “I can do whatever I want, actually.”
“Hey!” You squirm in his arms, pushing against him, but he uses all his strength to keep his hold on you. You don’t want to make him fall so you give up.
“I can’t go back in there. Not after you…” He huffs, turning a corner and opening a door that leads back outside. “I hate all of this. So stuffy and pretentious. Let’s just escape together.”
“But the press–”
“The press won’t know what they don’t notice. Thomas will cover for me, I know it.”
“Thomas is going to kill you and then me.”
“Aren’t you, like, a top hunter? He couldn’t, even if he tried.”
You can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he is.
𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧
You flag down a cab together to get home. The car is small, so the two of you sit, thighs pressed together. You can’t tell if the internal temperature is just warm or if it's your blood rushing to escape from your pores.
Once you arrive at Rafayel’s place, he tips the driver generously before helping you out of the car. He holds your hands and practically drags you through the door before helping you with your shoes. You giggle at his clear excitement.
“What’s got you so energized? It’s so late.”
“I’m just happy to be alone with you again.”
You decide to tease him. “I dunno… I really should be heading home soon.”
Rafayel shoots you a dirty look and grimaces. “You want to leave already?”
“I don't want to overstay my welcome.” You smirk in an attempt not to laugh at his silly, completely non-meninging snarl.
“You know you’re always welcome with me.” He looks up at you from your feet, a cheeky smile forming. “Did I ever tell you how stunning you looked tonight? I should bring you as my guest to more of these things.” His hands found your calves, and you nearly jolted at the tickling sensation.
“Yeah, yeah.” You laugh nervously.
“Spend the night with me.” Rafayel stands and takes your hand in his. He’s far too close and you can feel his breath fan over your face.
“Wh-what?!” From his genuine soft expression, you can’t tell if he meant it in a suggestive kind of way or not.
He smirks at you when he realizes his mistake, leaning so your foreheads are practically touching. “In any way you’d like, of course.”
You push away from him, grumbling in displeasure. You retreat to his kitchen and he trails behind you, cackling at himself.
Rafayel sits at the counter as you comb through the refrigerator. He rests his cheek in his palm, staring at you curiously.
“Are you hungry? I can order something for us.”
You shake your head, shutting the fridge and turning to reveal a small container in your hand. Rafayel sits up to see and you approach him from the opposite side of the counter, placing the box in front of him.
You bite your lip nervously. “It’s nothing crazy. I brought it over earlier and snuck it into your fridge. I just wanted to celebrate your success with you! So I bought a dessert.”
Rafayel smiles and opens the box. “Tiramisu.”
It was a dessert somewhat special to your relationship. He knew it was your favorite sweet treat so he’d bring it to you whenever you were having a hard week. You decided to return the favor and share one with him whenever he was feeling lonely. It soon became a tradition of yours to eat tiramisu together to celebrate or comfort one another.
Rafayel jumps up from his seat and walks over to the other side of the counter with you. He bends down and embraces you tightly. He’s warm, and he smells like the beach. You return his actions and wrap your arms around his shoulders.
“Thank you, cutie. You’re always so sweet.”
You thread your fingers through his hair and close your eyes. “Thank you for inviting me today. I don’t know how to repay you for the grand painted demonstration. Or the dress.”
He pulls away enough to look you in the eyes. “It isn’t something you have to repay, silly. You’re just an important part of my life. And I tend to paint things I find important.”
You nod, watching him speak. “I know, but I wish I could show you how much you mean to me too. I wish I could show everyone.”
Rafayel chuckles, caressing your face. “You don't have to show everyone. It’s just as meaningful in private. Your tiramisu is greatly appreciated.”
Rafayel brings you closer by your waist. “And it’s not just that. You do thoughtful things for me all the time.”
He looks all over your face as he recounts the things you’ve done. Planning his birthday surprise earlier that year and the one the prior year, helping him reignite his love for singing, protecting him during unexpected wanderer attacks, taking care of him when he was… sick.
You two stand there for a few long beats staring at one another. That seemed to be a trend between you tonight—longing looks and gentle hands. You feel the air shift between you. You feel your eyes on his lips before you even realize you’re inching closer to him.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask in a daze.
“I’d like that.” Rafayel chuckles, lightly mocking you. “You can do whatever you want to me, really.”
You flick him in the neck before closing the distance between you.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅