Chapter Text
You grew up together in Verona; you were two years older than him. You had first met him when they moved in; you were twelve at that time. You and your parents went to visit to give them a warm welcome. He looked like an innocent boy with the most unique pair of eyes you had ever seen before; such a beautiful set of eyes- like dusk with his lavender hair. That was what you thought until he opened his mouth after your parents went inside their house, ushered in by his aunt, while you were left with him so you could “get along” and said, “I would never get along with a human like you.” First of all, rude. And second, a human like you? What is he, a seaweed? You had retorted, “I don’t get along with seaweeds, too.” Just to spite him. Which worked. In turn, he looked at you, shocked, eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish yanked out of the water. What? Has no one ever talked back at him? You had learned then that he’s going to be the most annoying neighbour ever.
Your relationship with him, if you could even call it that at the beginning, was that of a cat and dog, oil and water, fire and water- you get the point. You had always butted heads. He says something snarky, and you bite back. This was your routine at school and even at home. His aunt even said, “I’m so glad you two get along so well. I’m happy to see him make a friend; I was worried he wouldn’t fit in.” Get along? Is this gorgeous and kind woman- bless her heart- blind? If this is her perception of us getting along? What would fighting look like to her? You shivered at the thought. You just gave her a forced smile. He, in fact, did not fit in well at school since he excelled in everything. You’re probably the only one he spoke to.
Having a family dinner with them every Friday night quickly became a routine. Both families did it religiously. Your households take turns hosting the meal. And every single time they’d gush about how close you two had become- you’re not. Of course, both of you pretend to be in your best behaviour in front of the adults, but when they are not around, you act like toddlers.
One time at school, you saw him hunched behind a tree, busy fiddling with something. You wondered and approached him, curious to see.
“Wacha up to, seaweed?” Your head popped out behind the tree.
“Nanya biz,” he grumbled.
“What, someone dared to bully Prince Charming?” You teased as you observed his science project, the one he spent the whole weekend making, now in pieces.
“Why are you assuming that? I could’ve destroyed it myself.” He huffed.
“Not when I saw you diligently working on that thing for two days straight.”
“So what? Leave me alone!” He barked at you.
You shrugged flippantly and walked away. You’re going to find out anyway. No one messes with him but you. And when you did, let’s just say they would never pull something like that again. It was days before it came to his knowledge what you had done for him when he stormed into your bedroom, slamming the door open.
“Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” You played dumb as you lay on your stomach in your bed, flipping through a magazine.
“You know what I mean, sea squab!”
A sea what? That one’s new. You’ve been called blobfish, goblin shark, abalone, goby- the list goes on. What’s with his obsession with the ocean? You had no idea back then.
“You’re gonna have to be specific, mosshead. I do a lot of things around here.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Mmhh.” You just hummed.
“Is that why you’re suspended?”
You did not respond, but he took your silence as a yes. He then turned around and flopped on your back.
“Oopmf! What are you doing!? Get off! You weigh like a whale!” You squeaked.
“Excuse you! I’m a delicate boy! I do not weigh anything.” Theatrics.
Since then, your relationship dynamic has changed a bit. The two of you still bicker, but it has toned down a bit.
It has become a bad habit of yours to hide when you're down in the dumps. Like when your pet beta fish died. You were hiding so well your parents could not even find you, but he does, though—all the time. No matter where you hide, he comes prancing a few hours later. You don't know he does it, but when he finds you, he just sits next to you and acts like you didn't just go MIA. His presence has become a comfort—like the first few rays of sunlight peaking behind the clouds after the rain. He doesn't prod you either. He's just there and yaps about the ocean.
It was your fourteenth summer when you went to the beach together. He insisted that it was such a beautiful day to just stay indoors. So he dragged you out of your house to the nearest beach, which is only a ten-minute walk from where you both lived. It wasn't crowded; there were a few other people scattered around. Families and friends who had the same idea as him. But you know his actual motive is to collect seashells since he's been practicing to make his own paint. He's been into art lately. While you, on the other hand, took interest in sculpting. It was indeed a great day to dip your foot in the ocean; that's why no one anticipated when the weather suddenly changed. Dark clouds rolled over, and the wind started picking up. The waves surged wildly by the shore, so people had to leave when a little girl got swept away in the rip current. As it happened, you were the one nearest; with no lifeguard in sight, you jumped into the water, ignoring Rafayel’s screams to save the girl- and you did, but you weren't able to save yourself. Your legs cramped up. You don't remember much of what happened; the next thing you knew, you were lying on the beach coughing up ocean water as Rafayel hovered over you, drenched, with tears streaming down his face. Did he save you? But how? When it was impossible to do so in that situation. You were pretty sure you were going to die that time.
"Raf?” You said weakly, voice strained from coughing so much, trying to sit up.
"Don't you ever do that again!” He croaked as he threw his arms around you, his face at the crook of your neck. Guilt crawled up your throat with the way his voice cracked when he said your name. You returned the gesture as tightly.
"I'm sorry.”
You both silently went home while his hand clasped tightly around yours, trembling slightly. You did not mention the incident to your parents, nor did he mention it to his aunt, you think. Like a silent agreement between the two of you. But you noticed he had changed since then; he became more…protective? Is what you figured. Every time you’re near a body of water, his eyes never leave you. He makes sure you walk on the safe side of the street. Steers you out of the way when people walk by- what are you made of glass? The list goes on.
"Can you stop putting yourself in danger, angelfish? Especially not for that creature.” He said once, scowling at you when you were climbing down the tree after helping a cat.
"I do not!” You defended.
"Yeah, and fish can fly.” He retorted back.
"Fish do fly- well, kind of, dummy. Exocoetidae?” You remarked.
You've also made an effort to learn about the marine life over the years so you could understand his obsession with the sea even a little.
"D-dummy!? It's not the same thing, and you get what I mean!” His lips jut out in a pout. He does that often too when he can't get his way, and who are you to resist that face?
“Fine, fine. I won't.” You can't help but squish his cheeks. "Pufferfish.”
"Staph dzat.”
"Say ‘please master'.” You teased.
"Nooo. N-O. Nuh uh. Nooope.”
You just laughed at his bewildered expression.
"What's with you and cats anyway?”
"Duh, they're vicious creatures!”
"Viscous? You mean this cute little thing?” You held the cat towards him.
"Ah! Get that thing away from me!”He said dramatically.
You just laughed maniacally and chased him around with the cat.
You were eighteen when your family met a tragedy. It was a freak accident. It was after you had a family dinner when a drunk truck driver drove towards your car at a red light, which left both your parents dead and you in the hospital for a month. You couldn't even be present at their funeral. His aunt took care of everything while you were in a coma. You will be forever grateful for that woman. While Rafayel visits the hospital every day until you wake up. He needs his best friend to open her eyes and banter with him. And when you did, it was like you turned into a different person. Your spark, dulled- which in this case was understandable considering what you just went through. But you started pushing them- him away. Then one day, a year after your recovery, he discovered that you suddenly dropped out of art school, and when he went to your house to confront you about it, since it had been both your dreams to study art, how could you just drop out? He found that your house had been deserted. You were gone. Leaving with nothing but a note that says, "Thank you, and I'm sorry. Don't look for me.”
Don't look for you? That's like asking him not to breathe. Different emotions swirled through him. He was hurt, worried, and then he was mad. How could you leave without telling him? He will find you whether you like it or not. He will do everything in his power to do that. And he did after two years, when he was visiting Florence, Italy, for an art exhibition; he saw you inside a workshop. You were working on a sculpture of what looked like a man based on the physique. You were so engrossed in what you were doing that you hadn't noticed the shop's bell jingling, a sign that a visitor had entered the shop, not until someone yanked your arm and you were suddenly engulfed in a warm and familiar hug. You'd identify that scent wherever you go, even years after- especially years after. His scent. You immediately dropped your tools, afraid of accidentally hurting him.
"Rafayel?” You said, surprised.
He hugged you tighter before whispering, "I finally found you.”
"You were looking for me?”
He suddenly pulled away, holding your shoulders. Frowning and eyes red with unshed tears.
"Of course I was! How could you move away and not say anything! Do you know how worried Talia- how worried I was?”
He rambled on. "You can't just up and leave people like that. People who care about you! What if something bad had happened to you?”
You cast your gaze downwards before mumbling, "I'm sorry."
You continued, "I just couldn't stay there anymore.” You tried holding back your tears, but a stray one managed to slip down.
His expression softened, and he wiped your tears. "Hey, sea angel, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you; please don't cry.”
You sniffed and burrowed your face on his chest. "I'm sorry.”
"It's okay. You're okay.” He whispered on top of your head while his hand rubbed circles on your back. When did he get this tall? He was so tiny before.
You spent the entire day catching up. He filled you in with what he's been up to and asked you million questions about what you did for the past two years. Later in the day, you led him to your apartment to spend the night.
"Hold on, I have a cat. I don't want you freaking out on me.” You said as you entered the apartment and looked for your cat.
"You have a what!?” See, so dramatic.
You picked up your Devon Rex cat and held it against your chest. "His name is Seaweed.”
"You named him after me??” He sputtered. He's long accepted the nickname you bestowed upon him since you were kids.
"What? he does look like you.” You raised the cat as if making a comparison before peppering his fuzzy face with kisses. "Sooo cute, my baby.”
He just looks at you dumbfoundedly and flustered- how can he not when you just indirectly called him cute? And how dare that cat get all the kisses and not him!?
"I do not look like that thing!” He said after collecting his bearings.
"He doesn't bite but will judge you, okay? I rarely bring anyone home, especially a man.”
"You brought other men here?” His voice suddenly went down an octave and his expression darkened.
"What? No. You're the only guy who stepped foot here.” What's with him?
"Good. Anywaaaay, I'm sooo hungry I'm going to pass out. Feed me, angelfish.” He drawled as he flopped on the sofa, making himself feel at home. Suddenly back to his peppy attitude like he did not just do a 180 on you.
"Wacha want?”
You rummaged through your sad-looking fridge and pantry.
"I only have instant ramen.”
"Wow, you're feeding me gourmet food? I feel sooo special.” Sarcasm dripping sweetly on his delightful voice.
"Shut up! Either that or starve. We can order food if you want; that's on you though." You flopped next to him.
He rolled over and used your leg as a pillow. You ran your hands through his soft and luscious hair. If he could purr like a cat, you'd hear it by now.
"I suppose instant ramen would be nice once in a while, yeah?” He grinned sheepishly. He really just wants you to make food for him, though. Ordering in is definitely not an option.
"I better not hear you complaining later.” You said, standing up to cook.
"Yes, sireee.”
Surprisingly, the food was good. Against his better judgment. Or maybe it was the company he oh so missed. Dinner was fun; you two bantered as if you'd never been separated for the past two years. It was nice, and he's going to make sure it stays that way. You will not run away from them- from him again.
"Sooo what's your plan? Settle here?” He casually asked.
"Nope. I'm thinking about moving to Linkoln after I finish my apprenticeship here.”
"Linkoln? You stalking me?” He gasped theatrically.
"You wish.” You retorted, smacking his arm. To which he cradled dramatically like you just broke it while squealing.
“I thought you were gonna stay in Verona and open a studio there. Why Linkoln?”
“I'm looking for someone.”
"Someone? Who?”
"I met them a long time ago, and let's just say we have some important business to settle.”
You had a gut feeling that it was a woman. Something unpleasant settled in the pit of your stomach at the thought.
"Oh. Okay.”
"How long will you be staying here?” You added.
"Two weeks.”
"Where are you staying at?”
"A hotel, but your place is nearest to the art exhibit, sooo thanks for having me.” He gave you that annoying smirk of his that means he won't take no for an answer, and you have no choice but to let him stay.
"You're not freeloading.”
"Who says I'm freeloading? I'll handle the cooking.”
"And laundry.”
"Fineee. You're really running me through the rags here.”
Sharing a living space with him isn't so bad. You could get used to this- you shake your head sideways; no, you shouldn't be thinking about things like that. Don’t get your hopes up.
So for the next two weeks, you two fell into a natural routine. You usually wake up before him, so you prepare his coffee and work on your sculpture in your makeshift studio- an extra room in your apartment. And when he wakes up, he prepares breakfast. You both go on about your day separately so you don't spend lunch together, and when you both have dinner, it's always paired with watching a movie or a TV show.
He wished you'd be more…on guard? Because why are you just strutting around and hips swaying in your underwear? "It's my apartment. I can wear whatever I want.” You said, yes, but what about him?? You must enjoy making him suffer. He's still a healthy young man after all. Even though you grew up together, you should at least be modest around him, no? Do you not see him as a man? Something in him would break if that’s what you thought. Every time he does your laundry, he's just so tempted to take a little…whiff. Am I a pervert? He asked himself. He swears he's not, but how can he hold himself back when the temptation is literally right in his hands? You've always smelled good to him. There's just something about your scent that he can't get enough of. Due to his Lemurian biology, his senses- especially his nose have been very keen. This man, in all his years in this life, was not prepared to see the day where he could smell you ovulating. He had woken up to the sweetest smell ever wafting throughout the apartment that he initially thought you were baking something, but the kitchen was empty. He found you in your studio sculpting, where the scent was stronger, and there you were in all your glory, sitting by the window, while the morning sun kissed your skin, looking like an angel and smelling like paradise. He had to physically restrain himself from sniffing directly from the source. You're going to be the death of him.
"Wacha doin?” He waltzed inside and looked around. Trying to seem nonchalant.
"5 things I can see, 4 things I can feel…” You quipped.
"Ha-Ha. Very funny.” He said, flicking your forehead.
"Hey!” You pouted. "Stop distracting me.”
Him? Distracting you? Do you have any idea what you do to him? You came into his life like a tidal wave that swept him off his feet. You were the first person to sass him back. It was refreshing. So he kept up the attitude to see how much you could take, and you did not disappoint when you kept up with him. He found it adorable even though you were older than him. And because of your age gap, you kind of defaulted into a role of the protector. Even though you try not to show, he feels and sees it. He didn't mind being babied by you. In fact, he quite liked it. A lot. That's when he had decided that it's going to be different in this life. He will choose you. He's going to put a stop to the unending loop of his tragic life. He's going to defy fate no matter what the cost may be. He will have his happy ending- and hers- and you're going to be in it. He had once almost lost you; he will not allow that to happen again. So he plotted. He asked you what your plans would be, which perfectly coincidentally aligned with his. Good, you're going to be closer to him. He's gonna make sure you stick to his side. He's gonna make Thomas manage you too. And once he makes contact with her, he's gonna sever the bond and finally free them both from eternal suffering. This is his final act of love for her. They both deserved to live a life that doesn't always end in a tragic death. It's time to change the narrative.
"Also. You've been trying to fatten me up!”
"Whatever you mean by that.” Pretending to be clueless.
"You feed me too much food! And you've gotten so good at cooking I can't refuse!”
He released a haughty huff, proud of himself. "Of course I'm basically the king of culinary. Can't blame you if you can't resist my food.”
He may or may not have done it on purpose. So what if you gained some weight? A win for him. He'll have more of you for him to hold, to kiss, to grab, to bite- he shook his head from getting ahead of himself. He shouldn't rush these things, or it'll scare you off.
You and Rafayel have become successful in your own fields. Thomas being both your agent at Flux Arts, so your crafts are being exhibited there. You've been in Linkoln for a good while now. He even hired a bodyguard. A woman at that. Does he really need one? You had an inkling it was the person he said he was looking for. His destined person. The one he waited for 800 years. He was supposed to join his art exhibition the night that you'd discovered he was of Lemurian descent. It fell on Ebb Day, and you found him on his studio floor, flushed and in pain while scales-like things glowed on his skin; he looked ethereal. He told you everything- a God possessing boundless power, capable of leveling the lands and commanding the seas, yet pitifully unable to save his people and his beloved—the very reason for existence. Of how it always ends in tragedy. So you didn't question when she entered his life and slowly kept your distance. You don't think you have the right to. Not when he looks at her like that. Not when she's so amazing and you- you're just rubbed raw and broken with nothing to offer but the heavy weight of the world on your shoulders. What chance do you have against that- against her? Nothing.
You didn't want her to get the wrong idea about you and him and ruin what he's been waiting for his whole life. You'd help him any way you can just so they get to live their happy life this time, even if it means staying out of his life. So you pretend to go about your normal life despite the pain. He must not need you anymore. You have come to a dawning realization that you have fallen deeply and utterly in love with your best friend- you cannot stay while harboring these unwanted feelings. That is simply torture. You don’t want to live that reality.