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Rafayel wasn't sure when he began to lose his sight, it was something that happened slowly, and then all at once. At first it was lights becoming a little brighter, each one flashing like stars. Then he couldn't see far away anymore, straining his eyes just to look a little further. When he began to notice this change, a small seed of panic implanted itself deep in his conscious, After all, his career relied on his eyes. But that wasn't what he cared about, no, it was something much more complicated than that.
You had suggested you both go and learn how to make pots; a way to use his hands for something else other than painting. And hey, if there's an option of not having to go buy extra cups or plates? then that would just be a plus. At first, Rafayel wasn't interested— sure he loved the arts, but it wasn't the same as holding a paint brush in your hand. You could say he was always going to be just a little bit biased. It wasn't until he experienced it, the soft clay molding to the movement of his hands, the coldness seeping into his skin as he formed something new. A delicacy he didn't know he needed in order to make a simple cup. And gods the sense of accomplishment after firing it, turning the cup over in his hands, the glaze catching into the fluorescent lights in the studio. He turned towards you, a slightly blurry vision of you and grinned, holding the cup high in his hands.
After that, Rafayel had got really into sculpture, what else could he possibly make with clay? The possibilities were endless! If he could make a cup out of a piece of clay, who's to stop him from creating something bigger. He started with simple things, then gradually worked his way up and began to try to sculpt things around him; a larger version of reddie, more abstract forms, things that he couldn't bring himself to explain to you even if he tried. And you were always there, smiling softly at him, watching as he loses himself in another medium.
There came a point where Rafayel's vision was beginning to affect his everyday life, colors blurring together, what used to be exact shapes turned into blobs— an absence of form. After going to the doctor when it had started, and they told him "Unfortunately, this is something we simply can't fix. Surgery on your eyes would be too high of a risk and I think it would be better if we just connect you to someone who would make living your life a little easier." The doctor smiled apologetically —well at least according to you. He gripped your hand a little tighter that day, smiled tightly and simply responded, "Okay."
After that, he began to learn brail and tried to focus more on his other senses. Things he was grateful he still had, but the thing that frustrated him the most… was that he could no longer see you. As close as he got, he couldn't make out your features anymore, there were times when you caught him staring in your direction with brows furrowed. It became Rafayel's nightmare, thinking it would be better if you had forgot him entirely because at least then… he could still see you.
One day after coming home from work, you walked into the house to see Rafayel hunched over, head buried in between his knees, soft sniffles surrounding his space. You reached for him, lightly placing a hand on his back. "Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, dropping down to your knees, hand rubbing back and forth. Rafayel cleared his throat, turning his head to look the other way, "Nothing." he whispered back. Frowning you crawled in front of him, taking on of his hands in your own. His bottom lip wobbled, pretty pink purple eyes filling with tears, threatening to spill once again. Quickly he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. You reached forward, cradling his face with both hands "Please talk to me, what can I do to make it better?" you asked softly, worry in your voice. He shook his head, "It's stupid."
"No, don't say that. Whatever is making you feel like this isn't stupid."
You both sat in silence for a while before Rafayel spoke again, "I don't want to forget you." his voice broke, new tears welling in his eyes, quickly falling after each other. You felt your heart squeeze, tears beginning to form in your own eyes but you held them back. You had to be strong— for him. "No no no, you won't forget me." You cooed, quickly wiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks. His chest quickly rose up and down, soft sobs overtaking him. Grabbing his hands you raised them up to your own cheeks. "If you can't see me, then you can feel me. This will be how you remember me." you whispered, softly gazing at his unfocused eyes. And so he traced your features, etching each of them into the pads of his fingers. Remembering the slope of your nose, the softness of your cheeks. The way each feature was placed on your face and it was almost as if he could see you again. He took his time, brows furrowed in concentration, stray tears falling from his eyes. And so it was engraved into his memory… until it wasn't.
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It was a year after that, both of you had spent a lot of time like this, where he just wanted to feel you, to remember what you looked like. Often times this would turn into soft kisses, your reassurance and his sadness was familiar. But one night you didn't come home. At first he wasn't worried, there were times when you would come home late. But the time ticked by, he would ask his phone what time it was and then an hour passed, then it was two, three. He sat anxiously on the couch, biting his fingernails until suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of his phone ringing. Immediately he grabbed it, "Hello?"
"Hello, is this Rafayel speaking?"
His heartbeat rose, "Yes this is he."
"First, are you in a place that you can speak freely, or are able to sit down."
"yes." he breathed out, his heart beating maniacally in his chest.
"Good, so we decided to contact you because a Ms. Hunter had you listed as an emergency contact. Unfortunately, there has been an accident while she had gone on a mission. The hunters association is currently investigating everything but I need to tell you that… she was pronounced dead at the scene."
White noise, that's all he could hear. He was sure whoever was on the other end of the phone was talking to him but he couldn't think, couldn't speak. The love of his life, gone just like that. His heart fell to the pit of his stomach, a pain completely unimaginable. He clutched at his chest, silent sobs as his face scrunched in despair.
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It had been a month after you had passed away. Rafayel couldn't do anything anymore, he couldn't bring himself to care. Thomas was constantly checking on him, but what he saw was instead a shell of someone he knew. The life was sucked out of his eyes, there were times where he would sit there with his eyes closed. He asked him why one time, "Because it's better than pretending that I can see." he muttered. Thomas didn't know what to do, he didn't want to force him to paint again, and so he let him be. As months ticked by, nothing changed. All Rafayel could do was sleep, eat (because he was forced to), shower, repeat. The pain became a little easier to bare however, but the memory of you was fading. And so after 10 months had passed, he sat down, a new block of clay in front of him.
He molded the shape from memory, already beginning to create the semblance of a bust. When he got to molding the facial features however, he paused. The dull ache that was in his heart worsening when he tried to remember what your face felt like. And so he dipped his fingers, mind flicking back to the memories he had of you, his hands gradually working faster as he began to realize… he couldn't do it. Not that he wouldn't… he actually couldn't. He ran his fingers down the faceless bust, the silence was deafening. All he could feel were these jagged bumps, nothing in resemblance to you. He let out a cry, dropping his head. Broken sobs echoed all over the house. What was once your warm skin, was now the cold clay covering his hands. An emptiness that could never be filled with the life you once held.