♡ moonlight ♡

When you see his car pull into the driveway and you swear the colours of the world instantly became brighter. You jump up from your spot, the sound of the front door being closed shut with a thud is a sound you missed.

“Darling?” He calls out. There’s no doubt that he’s shedding his coat and glasses, taking a few steps into your shared abode.

That’s when you attack him. You catch him by surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck and yanking him towards you. Zayne instinctively places his hands firmly on your hips to stabilize himself, surprised but amused by your over-the-top greeting. He can’t help but greet you immediately with a kiss, letting it linger on your lips a little longer than he initially intended.

“I missed you,” he whispers against your lips before pulling away with a satisfied smile plastered on his face. 

“I missed you too,” you breathlessly respond after reciprocating such a soulful kiss. Your eyes take in the sight of him as if you haven’t seen him for years. Your hands cradle his face, all he feels is warmth from your hold aside from the cold metal of your wedding ring. Your eyes boring into his hazel ones as your fingers play around with the strands of hair that now reach past the nape of his neck. 

You can’t help but notice the more rugged look Zayne has taken on from these past few weeks of being so busy. He hasn’t even had time to cut his hair. The ebony locks are longer, framing his face and getting in the way of the collars of his shirts. To you he still looks captivating, maybe even more with this new alluring look of his. 

“Do I look that different?” Zayne questions. He guides your hand in his to touch the side of his hair, feeling the longer strands slide between your fingers. 

“I’m aware that I’m due for a haircut, perhaps I should visit the barber tomorrow?” He mutters, still leading your fingers to rake through his longer hair. You snap out of your trance.

“The barber? So soon?” You ask, not bothering to help the small frown on your face. “I like this new look. You look more like a badass doctor,” you add on. 

That answer seemed to have surprised Zayne, given by the way his eyebrows raise slightly in disbelief. He softens immediately and places a kiss on your palm.

“It’s a bit uncomfortable, especially when I have to put on my scrubs,” Zayne explains. You understand the practicality of his shorter hair but you can’t help but prefer his longer hair for a little while more. 

“I understand,” you say, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. Zayne chuckles at your act, knowing exactly what you meant by that. 

“...This would be an easier decision if a certain someone didn’t look like I just ate all the ice cream in the fridge,” Zayne muses. He gently pinches your cheek, finding all of your reactions to be extremely adorable. He relents, “Fine, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to keep this unruly hair for a few more days.”

“Weeks,” you correct. You have no hesitation to ruffle his hair, molding it to stick out in all directions from your gesture.  “Weeks? You’re taking too much advantage now, darling,” he mutters. Despite wanting to appear firm on this small thing, he relents once again. He can never say no to you, whether it’s about sharing his dessert or moving countries. He would do anything you tell him to do. “Alright, for as long as you wish.”

You can hardly believe your eyes. This isn’t your husband, this isn’t your home. You had thought that when you closed your eyes, the image of your lips meeting with another’s and your body being enraptured by someone who wasn’t your husband was nothing but some sort of dream. Your mind numbed it down to an imaginary scenario to aid the fact that it just wasn’t that. 

You cheated on your husband.

Your husband, who you’ve been devoted to for merely a year. A whole ceremony, vows exchanged, kisses stolen. All gone. Meaningless. 

All thrown away for this white-haired, red-eyed man in the same bed as you. Sylus rests his head upon his hand, propped up by his elbow. He gently coaxes you to lay back down in bed with him with a touch to your arm. 

“You look surprised, sweetie. You told me you didn’t have any drinks last night,” Sylus says. His fingers card through your hair. You tilt your head to look at him, his gaze surprisingly soft for someone you only shared a night with. 

“I didn’t. I’m just… surprised. Surprised I went through with it, is all–”

“Surprised you cheated on your husband? The ring doesn’t lie,” Sylus cuts you off, pointing to the ring still sitting on your ring finger as if you didn’t just break your promise to him. You sigh, sliding it off and placing it on the nightstand next to you to alleviate the weight of the crushing guilt that came with staring at the jewellery. 

“I never thought I would spend a night with a married woman,” Sylus digs further. You can’t help but narrow your eyes at him, feeling as if he’s making a joke out of this. 

“This isn’t funny,” you whisper. You don’t have any fight in you, especially knowing that you’re in the wrong. Sylus scoffs.

“I wasn’t laughing. Simply, stating a fact,” Sylus mutters. “Does your husband not treat you right? Is that why you sought out other means?” 

You couldn’t help but close your eyes at his questions. You’re unsure of whether he’s purposefully trying to make you feel guilty or if he’s just genuinely curious about the reason for you ending up with him. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, if you don’t mind,” you shoot back. You sit up again, Sylus mirrors your actions. You look back at him before saying, “I’m going back home.” 

“Already? We could have so much more fun, though. What a shame,” he persuades, his tone suggestive. You couldn’t let yourself be reeled back into his arms. You ignore the bait and climb out of his painfully comfortable bed to collect your clothes.

A curious crimson gaze follows your actions, the gloriously tanned and muscled man lays relaxed under the covers. He mutters a question to you, “would you like a ride home?” 

You instinctively roll your eyes. Imagining the man you cheated with being the one to take you back to your lawfully wedded husband is wrong in many ways. You simply shake your head at his offer.

“No need,” you mumble. You tug a jacket over your arms, ready to bolt out of Sylus’s house and his life. The other man can feel how your stress is almost palpable, but he doesn’t seem to care one bit.

“What a shame, I had so much fun,” he says in a mocking voice. He pulls the covers over his shoulders, making no effort to move from the comfort of his bed. Your anger that you feel towards yourself for being such a bad person is seeping through to being angry at Sylus for being so nonchalant when you’re having a hard time. You shake it off, deciding to save your energy as you make your way out of there. 

You slam the door as you leave his room. 

“You forgot your ring,” he calls. You storm back in, snatch up the ring from his nightstand and shove it into your back pocket. You resume your act of leaving. 

You, who strayed away from the probing gaze of the school crowd. You were good at your own things, did your own clubs and ranked somewhere in the higher-middle region of your class. Not too bad, but nothing extremely special. You didn’t mind not getting attention until your oh-so-perfect best friend Caleb started steering the copious amounts of attention he gets towards you.

Today is another day where Caleb’s entrance through the doors erupts a chattering crowd consisting of the basketball team towards him. Caleb was clad in his basketball uniform that loosely fits over his form, the sheen of sweat coating his forehead is evidence that he just came from practicing. The basketball team hoards around their captain, cheering about their previous win, arms flailing around and heavy voices echoing through the hallways. 

You stand by the side, leaning against the window as you watch your best friend get enveloped and whisked away by the commotion. 

You actually wished he would overlook you once and celebrate with his teammates, but his violet gaze reached you as always.

“Pipsqueak! Get over here!” He calls out to you, gesturing for you to go towards him. You grumble under your breath, delivering a good smack to his shoulder when you approach him.

“I told you not to call me that! It’s such a weird nickname…” You murmur. Caleb feigns a hurt expression and rubs the spot where your hand smacked him. 

“Tough crowd. If you don’t wanna be called Pipsqueak, how about Pip? Pips? Pup? Puppy? Pop? Poppy?” Caleb says, prodding you with his elbow the more he lists his potential nicknames for you. You can only roll your eyes as the crowd of tall guys surrounding you continue chirping and chittering like a flock of birds. 

“I hate them all,” you complain.

“Then I’m stickin’ with Pips,” Caleb says, nudging his index finger knuckle at your cheek. It’s like his team didn’t exist anymore, his attention is fixed solely on you. Some of the other teammates notice that Caleb’s attention is diverted, most of them straying away to leave you two to catch up. 

One curious teammate, Gideon, comes up beside Caleb. His eyebrows raise as he asks, “Are you two… a thing?” He perches an elbow against Caleb’s shoulder, wagging his finger from you to Caleb.

This question isn’t anything new to you two. Hell, there’s a new round of rumours that passes around just about every week to speculate if you two are a couple yet or not. Some shameless people also love to poke and prod around in your business and really ask if you’re with Caleb or not. 

“Don’t be an ass, Gideon,” Caleb shuts him down. He brushes Gideon off his shoulder and gently places a hand on your arm to guide you away from the crowd. 

Dragging you away, Caleb leads you to a more secluded part of the hallway away from the prying eyes of any peers to avoid further judgement. He sighs in relief at the silence surrounding you two as he leans against the wall.

“Finally, some peace,” Caleb says. He doesn’t mind attention, if anything he craves attention a lot of the time. He loves to be showered in the cheers and praise he receives from peers. However, the attention of crowds becomes a nuisance to him the moment it tears him away from you. After basking in the quiet, he finally speaks, “I wanted to ask you something. I’m gonna stick around after school for practice. You wanna stick around with me?” 

You shrug your shoulders. You mildly enjoy watching Caleb’s training sessions as well as his basketball games. More so, you enjoy watching Caleb move around and watching how the sweat glistens off his exposed arms. “Sure, I’ll come,” you comply. Caleb lips stretch out into an almost giddy looking grin, and he clasps his hands around yours.

“I’ll do you proud, Pips. Just you watch,” he promises. You don’t know where the sudden sentiment came from but before you could ask or comment on it, Caleb has gone on his way to return back to the rowdy team around the corner. 

You enter the almost empty gym, the sound of a single pair of sneakers squeaking on the floor and a ball bouncing is all you hear. Taking a seat in the gymnasium, you’re the only spectator around on the bleachers.

Caleb’s already practicing, clad in the basketball uniform that you see him in more often than his own school uniform. Your eyes can’t help but be glued to his form. He’s a natural, moving with such captivating fluidity and grace.

He stops as he sees you sit down. The basketball rolls away to the corner, no longer the centre of his attention anymore. 

“Hey, you came. You weren’t too busy, right?” He asks, striding to stand beside you and take a swig from his water bottle. He seems to have just arrived as well, evident by the way he hasn’t broken out into a sweat yet. 

You shake your head, leaning back a bit to meet his gaze. You respond, “Never too busy for you, Caleb. I’ve watched you play so much basketball I could be your coach.” 

Caleb chuckles at that. He sets the water bottle down beside you. 

“That so? My coach can’t even make a basket herself,” he remarks. You can’t help but feel a little offended that he’s looking down on skills he’s never seen. 

“You think so, huh? Think you just know absolutely everything about me just because we’ve known each other for so long.” 

“Isn’t that how it works?” He asks back. 

You shake your head. “I can make a basket,” you challenge. 

Caleb scoffs. He grabs a basketball from the cart carrying a mountain of the equipment and chucks it your way. You catch it. 

“Let’s make a deal then. If I get this in on the first try then you have to do my homework for the next month,” you say, feeling the grip of the basketball in your fingers. You make your way to the half-circle painted on the ground. 

Caleb can’t help but raise his eyebrow, amused that you’re turning this into a game. 

“I’ll bite. If you don’t get it in, you have to go on a date with me,” he adds on. He did it as a joke, thinking it would probably spur you further to make the shot. 

However, your mind worked differently to that. You know from the glint in his eyes and the wry smile on his face that he’s probably expecting a reaction similar to disgust or pettiness to avoid such a fate. You can’t help but feel this is just a win-win, and the date was the jackpot. 

You can’t deny that all throughout the years of admiring and joking around with Caleb, you’ve picked up some feelings for him. It started around middle school and just continued to grow stronger from there like some sort of parasite that’s feeding off of you. His offer to go on a date with you makes your hands feel clammy and you start to weigh your options.

Your eyes snap back to the basket, the ball suddenly feeling heavier in your hands. With a flick of your wrists, you send the basketball to an altitude that reaches only halfway to the hoop. The ball didn’t even swish the net, and it was hitting the floor with a pathetic thud that echoes through the gym.

You flunked the shot. 

“Huh.With your determination I thought you’d make it, Pips,” Caleb says, a bit confused as he chases for the ball. “No worries, you can try again.” 

You didn’t want him to forget the deal you two made. You receive the ball back, but decide not to make another attempt to get it in.

“That wasn’t the deal,” you protest. “I didn’t make it on the first try. You can’t just let that slide, right?” 

“I can be a little lenient, I’m not your captain after all,” Caleb pushes further. He gestures for you to throw the ball again. “Go on, try again.” 

You grumble a bit under your breath, your plan has gone to waste. Maybe it’ll work the second time. You pretend to firmly plant your feet on the ground and focus on getting the ball in the hoop. Another weak throw bounces the basketball off the rim of the hoop, and you frown at the result.

“I missed again. I guess I’m not as good as I thought,” you say, a bit too nonchalantly. Caleb catches the ball as it jumps back into his hands and he shoots you a suspicious glare. He dribbles the ball a bit to check if it’s working right.

“The ball isn’t flat. Why do I feel like you’re missing on purpose?” Caleb asks in a slow manner. You try not to look too guilty when he points an accusatory finger your way. 

“What do you mean? I said I’m just not as good as I thought. I take back my words, I can admit when I’m wrong,” you retort. You decide to add in, “you just have to go on a date with me now.” 

You swear Caleb blushes. The sudden heat in his cheeks painting it the faintest shade of pink as he averts his gaze to the hoop and suppresses a grin. He throws the basketball, letting it make a perfect curve right through the net of the hoop. 

“A deal’s a deal,” he admits. “How about tomorrow?” 

You practically skip to his side with an idea in mind. You lean in, pecking his cheek. It adds to the heat in his cheeks and he becomes the shade of a tomato by your simple action, fingers grazing where your lips had just touched.

“It’s a date,” you whisper. You leave the gymnasium and leave Caleb a flustered mess in the middle of the room with nothing but the thought of you invading his mind.

Caleb wasn’t able to get a productive practice session in on that day.

“Why are you staring at that poster?” Xavier, your boyfriend, asks you as he gives you a gentle tug on your hand. Your attention snapped from the poster to your boyfriend, who seems agitated by your fixation on the poster. More so, your fixation on Lumiere.

You know that the real-life Lumiere is none other than the humble Xavier. He often fought under the guise of Lumiere, and his immense talent for fighting the monsters and saving the city had gained much traction from those who had been saved by him. You couldn’t help but feel proud that your boyfriend is basically the star of a movie, even though he seems less than enthused by your pride. 

“It’s Lumiere!” You point out. You wouldn’t say anything further, considering that you were in public. You add on, “don’t you think he’s so cool?” 

You could’ve sworn you saw Xavier rolling his eyes, his grip on your hand growing more firm. 

“There’s nothing special about Lumiere. He’s just a hunter like us,” Xavier grumbles. You trail behind him, eyebrows furrowed at Xavier’s little pout as he marches away like a petulant child. 

“Really? I think he’s pretty attractive. Especially the mask part,” you press on. It doesn’t matter if you’re gushing about Lumiere to Xavier, right? That’s what you think at least, considering they’re the same person. 

Your boyfriend didn’t take a liking to that. Not at all. 

You noticed that he was more silent than usual, as if he was a simmering pot. Is he… mad at you? You wonder what you’ve done so wrong to evoke such an attitude from Xavier towards you. 

Stopping in front of a claw machine, you poke Xavier’s cheek. Your finger digs into the soft skin only to be met with an icy gaze. 

“I want to try…” You mumble. “...The claw machine.” Your voice dies down beneath the weight of his intense stare. 

Xavier looks over at the claw machine to see what type of plushies lay inside. To his utter dismay, it’s a Lumiere-themed claw machine, one that features mini plushie versions of him as Lumiere. His jaw clenches.

“Are you sure you want that? I’m sure there’s another one with animal soft toys in there,” Xavier protests weakly. 

You only just notice the theme of the claw machine, however you double down on your desire to play the game. Claw machines are your expertise, after all.

“I’m sure. I want a mini Lumiere right on my pillow as I sleep,” you beam. 

“Sure,” Xavier mutters through gritted teeth. He takes the lead, stiffly maneuvering the claw inside the machine. You watch with eager eyes, thrilled at the idea of getting your very own Lumiere merch. You watch the claw’s movements, swishing right, left, forward then slowly lowering down. 

Down, down, down.

The claw closes, and misses. 

You groan like you just watched your favourite sports team lose a finals game. The claw had only caught onto the Lumiere plushie’s leg, moving it over a bit before ascending back to its place at the top. 

“Again, Xavier! Try again!” You chant, shaking his shoulder to persuade him to slot another coin into the machine so he can attempt getting his mini plushie again. Xavier follows suit, only to miss his next attempt.

He’s never been good at the claw machine, but you can’t help but notice that he doesn’t seem to be too irked by the fact that he’s missing his attempts like he usually is. It’s almost as if he wasn’t phased because he wasn’t bothered about the soft toy, or he’s missing it on purpose. 

“How are you so calm? Move, I want to try it for myself,” you order Xavier. He braces his hand beside the button, not willing to budge. 

“Do you really need a Lumiere plushie?” He asks, his velvety voice sounding calm with a hint of distress. 

“Yes? I told you already, I want to sleep with the plushie with me.” 

“What about me?” He suddenly poses the question. You narrow your eyes at him, perplexed by his inquiry.

“What about you?” 

“You don’t need a stupid plushie to keep you company when you can have your hot, dependable hunter boyfriend by your side,” Xavier says. You can’t help but place your hands on your hips.

“He’s not always available. Lumiere will always be there,” you remark. “Besides, what’s the big deal? I get plushies all the time.” 

“Not Lumiere ones. I can get you anything else.” 

Now you were truly baffled. 

“Are you telling me that you’re jealous of Lumiere? You’re jealous… of yourself?” You ask him. You always were aware that Xavier was prone to jealousy, but you never knew that it would reach these staggering heights. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with Lumiere,” he murmurs. His lips push into the slightest pout yet again. 

“It’s not just Lumiere. I’m ‘obsessed’ with Lumiere because it’s you. I’m a big fan of Xavier,” you assure him. You grab his hand, his larger fingers enveloping both of your hands in his warmth. You aren’t sure if your words worked, but that’s the best you could come up to tell him. It seems to have worked, because his eyes soften a little towards you. 

“And Xavier can teleport to your side whenever you need him,” Xavier says softly. His other hand comes up to run his fingers through your hair a little. 

“Will you come dressed as Lumiere?” You ask, hopeful. 

“What?”

“Nothing…”

What you definitely weren’t expecting was to be met with a foreign sight of metal that adorned the corner of the bottom lip. A small, silver labret that sticks from his skin, glimmering every time he spoke or smiled. You stared at him with your mouth agape for a few seconds longer than intended and almost made him sob when he believed you didn’t like the new feature on his face. 

“I wanted to try something new. I’ve seen countless humans with these tattoos and piercings and I thought it wouldn’t look so bad on me,” Rafayel tried to explain when you asked why he had impulsively gone to pierce his lip. Not that you didn’t like it, in fact, you found it to be an immensely attractive sight. The piercing moved so hypnotically with every motion when he spoke. 

The only downside was that you couldn’t really express your affection with a peck or a kiss due to his healing process. Rafayel’s been going insane without your kisses and everyday he wished the piercing would heal at lightspeed. 

Today you decided to be a thoughtful girlfriend and encourage Rafayel to take care of his health by exercising. His lips were a bit swollen after getting the piercing but now that it’s been a few months it’s been gradually getting better. You’ve become increasingly enticed by the sight. The way it glimmers when he talks, when he plays around with the piercing using his tongue or teeth. It seamlessly fits on his face somehow like a puzzle piece you didn’t even realise was ever missing. Despite that, he’s been flopping around his studio like a fish out of water whining and groaning about the pain in his lips and the lack of kisses he’s receiving. 

“Come on Raf. You need some exercise,” you say, trying to convince him to step outside and go to the gym with you. Rafayel, albeit dressed in workout attire, stands with his arms crossed and a petulant frown on his face. That new lip ring he put on catches your eye, the metal hugging the pliable pink flesh of his lips.

“Exercise is not what I need right now to rejuvenate me,” he protests, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. You feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his black tank top. He leans his head down a bit but all you see is that lip ring drawing closer. 

“How long has it been since you’ve stepped outside?” You ask. His hand trails lower, resting on the small of your back. His mind seems to be wandering somewhere that’s not this conversation you’re having. You decide to negotiate with him. Instead of a strenuous workout at the gym maybe he’ll settle for a walk for some fresh air. Rafayel can read your thoughts through your eyes and it deepens his frown to know that you want to drag him outside his studio.

“Does it matter?” He questions. “Can’t we just stay inside, watch the sea from the comfort of my studio?” He tries to steer you away from wanting to go exercise. 

“I’ll give you a kiss if you come walk-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Rafayel is fixing a black cap on his head and practically skipping out the door. He looks back at you and gestures for you to follow him. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” He says impatiently. 

You roll your eyes at his sudden change in attitude. Taking his hand in yours, you two stroll out, the breeze brushing against Rafayel’s face for the first time in who knows how long. He keeps a tight grasp on your hand and leads you to the pristine beach of Whitesand Beach. The sun’s rays are a welcoming warmth against your skin, the light coruscating off the ocean across from you. 

You turn around to admire Rafayel. His soft purple locks wavering in the breeze, pink-blue eyes lovingly staring back at you… and that lip ring. It throws off the entire ‘soft boyfriend’ look he was previously presenting as. Such a small piece of jewellery somehow shifted his entire facade. 

“Are you sure you don’t secretly hate it?” Rafayel asks, giving a small squeeze to your hand. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I like it,” you reassure him for the umpteenth time. 

Rafayel looks at you in disbelief. His eyes are narrowed and eyebrows curved down as he turns his body to face you. He steps closer, his intention clear as day when he starts to lean down a bit. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” Rafayel asks. You can’t deny him, you would never. Especially not when he looks like a kicked puppy begging for a kiss. 

You give him a simple nod. He immediately jumps at the chance, arms encircling your body and his lips smash against yours. 

It’s different. It’s exhilarating. The way the cool steel poking at your lips contrasts with his warm, supple lips is dizzying. When you reciprocate a second after, you can feel the small tug of a smirk on his lips as he indulges in you. 

“Rafayel-” You mumble between the kiss, “we’re in- public-” 

“And?” He inquires. He pulls away only a fraction, your lips still about a centimetre apart. 

“And? It’s not empty,” you whisper. Your eyes dart about around Rafayel, spotting a few other people casually lazing around on the beach. Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to really care about anything else but he straightens his back again. 

“Okay. Then let’s take a nice, relaxing walk back to my studio and spend more time together,” Rafayel suggests, a brazen smile plastered on his face. He sensed you were just about to protest so he acted quickly. His arm secured itself around the back of your knees, hoisting you up over his shoulder.

“Wha- Hey! Rafayel!” You almost screech when you find yourself slumped over his shoulder like you’re a bag of potatoes. This was the last thing you were expecting from him.

Sylus was driven to tears when you showed him a positive pregnancy test after all his effort to convince you that a baby is just what you two need. It’s been six months since then, you haven’t gotten the chance to even feel any discomfort without Sylus swooping in and pampering you with every available resource he has. 

“Everything’s fine, thank you,” you say with a smile. You hold onto Sylus’s hand, your thumb gently turning the wedding band on his finger. All you wanted to do was lounge on the couch and watch a movie but your husband refused to let you move without him preparing the couch for your maximum comfort. 

Sylus lowers himself to his knees in front of the couch, resting his elbows up right beside you. His eyes have been carrying a certain sparkle to them lately, an undeniable softness has been gracing his features, reminiscent of the way he looked at Riley when he realised that the baby wasn’t afraid of him. 

“I’ve been having the tendency to be… overbearing,” Sylus admits sheepishly. His hand raises to smooth your hair back in a soothing manner. “Just tell me if you need me to just shut up and leave you alone.” He reminds you. He’s more than aware of his new habit of pampering you to an almost overwhelming degree sometimes. It’s endearing for the most part except for the select few times where your mood was naturally sour due to the pregnancy and you had chided Sylus for not giving you space. 

“You know I will,” you joke, admiring the way Sylus has been stealing your pregnancy glow. You definitely envy it, the way his skin has been glowing and eyes glistening. You always thought it was the pregnant lady who was supposed to have that shine laid upon her skin, not her husband who is far too elated to be a father. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. He never fails to remind you of that either. “My precious girls.” Sylus gently rubs his hand over your pregnancy bump. Along with being driven to tears once he found out you were pregnant, his waterworks started up again when you found out you were going to have a daughter. You swear he’s been bearing the larger half of the emotional instability and moodiness between you two. 

A girl is exactly what you were wishing for. The idea of giving Sylus a daughter that will melt down his tough exterior and bring out this vulnerable side like this is heartwarming. 

Sylus stayed home because he was feeling worried after you had expressed your discomfort in your lower back. He prepared hot water bottles, fluffed up all your pillows and catered to your every request. 

“Aren’t you tired? You’ve been awake all day,” you ask Sylus as you climb back into bed. After an adventurous day of laying on the couch on this bright weekend, you’re back in bed. 

“Truthfully, I’m a little fatigued. But it’s nothing that I can’t handle,” Sylus says, but he’s already sitting up in bed with his hands folded in his lap. His eyes look like they’ll fall shut at any moment now. 

You fix the blanket over your body. You’re just about to say something back to Sylus but when you look back at him, he’s already snoozing away. You can’t help but chuckle. Of course he pretended as if staying up all day didn’t bother him at all. 

You relish in the moment of silence that lulls you to sleep in the peaceful atmosphere of the room. 

In the early hours of the morning, about 4am, you’re jolted awake by your own senses. 

You were feeling warmer even though the temperature of the room hasn’t changed. A sudden itch prickles around your abdomen and you feel some discomfort from the position you ended up in while sleeping. You lean over to turn the lamp on your bedside table on, feeling yourself involuntarily becoming more awake. To top it all off, you have a hunger for something cold. Cold, sweet and fruity, slightly floral. You smack your lips, noticing that your husband isn’t up and around like he usually would be at this time. 

Despite not abiding by his usual sleep schedule, he’s still an incredibly light sleeper and his scarlet eyes are soon open and adjusting to the dim lighting. 

“Sweetheart? Are you alright?” He husks, his deep voice almost inaudible from just waking up. He stretches his arms out, his muscles flexing as he props himself up. 

“I’m not feeling good,” you admit. Sylus immediately becomes alert. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“I’m hot, I’m itchy, uncomfortable and I want blueberry lavender ice cream,” you list out your issues. Your husband’s fingers touch your cheeks, noting the slight warmth to them. 

“Blueberry lavender ice cream? Where would I find that at… 4 in the morning?” He inquires out loud, already planning on how he’ll fulfill your craving at this ungodly hour. 

You shrug your shoulders, your mind running a bit too rampant about all the negative things you’re experiencing and not caring at all for the new quandary you’ve imposed on your husband. He gently rubs your back as you stiffly sit up, your joints feeling as if there’s something jammed between the sockets. 

“I’ll be right back,” Sylus assures. His tiredness from just a moment ago disappears in a blink as he walks out of the room. Soon enough he comes back and props a hot water bottle behind your back and adjusts your pillow to make you more comfortable. 

“Ice cream…” You mutter, clutching to the fabric of his shirt. The more you were awake, the more you craved the cold, sugary treat. You felt as if you would die without the ice cream you desire, like your stomach will simply twist up and kill you. 

“Of course,” he responds and immediately nods his head. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple before heading out on his exploration for ice cream, specifically blueberry lavender ice cream which isn’t just found anywhere. Sylus has never run so fast in his life for something so trivial as ice cream. He knows he’s on limited time but the task isn’t an easy one, and every convenience store he stops by doesn’t have this specific flavour. 

You rest your head against the pillow supporting your neck, shifting a bit as you absentmindedly rub your hand over your pregnancy bump. This daughter of yours is already giving you such a hard time before she’s even been born. She already has her father running mindlessly through the streets to fulfill her every whim. 

Half an hour goes by and your cravings do not settle at all. If anything, they’re growing stronger. You try to distract yourself with your phone but everything is swirling into blue and purples hues, breaking into mosaics and forming the image of blueberry and lavender in your mind. It’s driving you insane. 

The door almost breaks down when Sylus makes his return and he immediately starts making a big clatter downstairs which catches your attention. You tried to ignore it for the first few minutes but your curiosity grew to know if he ended up getting the ice cream or not. You muster up all the strength you can to push yourself off the bed and you pad downstairs curiously to see what your husband is up to. 

To your surprise, when you enter the kitchen you’re met with the sight of Sylus handling an ice cream machine. A violet mixture churns in the machine, looking like the product of all your wishes right now. 

“You’re making ice cream?” You lean your head against his arm, earning a kiss on the head from him. 

“I couldn’t find it anywhere. But, fresh ingredients will taste much better,” Sylus says calmly. He had gone ahead and bought the raw ingredients just to make the ice cream you want at home. Despite being married to him for a significant amount of time, he still finds ways to make your heart melt. 

You watch the ice cream being mixed for a few more minutes before he opens the lid to get a peek of the creation inside. You couldn’t resist swiping a finger through the smooth cream, taking a taste and your body instantly rests as you do. All the senses in your mind that were screaming for blueberry lavender ice cream were silenced the moment you finally got access to the fruitful, floral treat. 

“Yes, this is it,” you nod. Even though the ice cream wasn’t set, it was calling your name. You served yourself a large bowl with every drop of the ice cream that Sylus made for you. You brought the bowl back to bed with you, your husband following behind closely like a puppy making sure that this was enough to satiate your craving. 

“Is it good, sweetheart?” He asks. You hold up a spoonful of the ice cream to his mouth, it’s more cream than ice. He takes a bite, eyebrows raising with delight. 

“I’ve been waiting my entire life for this,” you murmur. You hog the rest of the bowl, shoveling spoonful after spoonful into your mouth as your husband watches with a sense of admiration for you. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, a small smile on his face.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he gently taps his finger against your nose. His eyes flit down to your belly. 

“I can’t wait to meet her,” he whispers, his eyes full of wonder. He wouldn’t get annoyed even if he had to fly to the ends of the Earth to satisfy your cravings. It all didn’t matter as long as he was helping you feel better, and that he was getting closer everyday to meeting his daughter. 

He was already ready to give up everything to take care of you two, his girls, his entire world. You two were definitely going to be spoiled rotten by Sylus. 

It began when your co-worker flew by your home and dropped off her baby for you to supervise, and you took on the challenge. You were fond of children, especially ones that were chubby and well-behaved and this particular baby perfectly slotted into that criteria. You could count the rolls on her little arms, her nose was barely a small peak with two holes that were the size of a needle. Her cheeks were so large they sagged downwards, pulling her lips into a permanent pout. You were all over this baby the moment she was set into your arms.

At the moment you were laying on the ground as the baby was waving around her favourite bunny plush toy, gurgling and babbling about as if telling you an elaborate story in her own baby language.

Your ears picked up on the heavy footsteps entering the living room, indicating your husband’s arrival from work. He’s often abiding by his nocturnal schedule and insists that three hours of sleep is more than enough to fuel his energy for the day. Last night he had a mission that caused him to head out of the house in the early hours of the morning and be back by midday.

You immediately get on your feet, locking eyes with Sylus’s imposing crimson gaze.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Sylus drawled, placing his hands firmly on his hips before raising an eyebrow. “Were you making… baby noises?”

You can’t help but find his question, dripping with concern and confusion, to be hilarious. You only shrug your shoulders.

“I get bored at home all alone, you know. My husband just flees from our warm bed in the early morning, leaving his poor wife stranded-”

“Who’s baby is that?”

You’re interrupted from your dramatic monologue when Sylus steps forward and draws attention to the tiny human laying down beside you with a point of his finger. His attention on the baby shatters your whole stunt.

“Oh, this is Riley. My co-worker’s baby, so I’m on babysitting duty today,” you explain.

Sylus’s shoulders tense a bit when you pick Riley up and place her on your lap. He looks a bit uneasy for some reason before he says, “I must warn you that babies aren’t my biggest fans.”

You understand. He’s a large man with probing crimson eyes, which is a scary look. Sylus leaves an intimidating first impression on anyone but you know deep down he’s just soft-centred, like a prickly pear.

Although, Riley is an overly friendly baby. It’s like she senses Sylus’s uneasiness and it draws her attention. She tips herself forward, you catch her with your forearm before she can topple over but she persists with making grabby hands at Sylus.

Sylus quirks an eyebrow at the baby’s enthusiasm. “Is she… beckoning me?”

“This baby likes you,” you point out. Riley babbles and reaches for Sylus, clearly adamant to bring him closer.

Sylus takes a few cautious steps towards you, towards Riley. He kneels down, red eyes softened as the baby’s whole hand encompasses his index finger alone. Riley wasn’t afraid of Sylus’s menacing appearance.

It doesn’t take long before Riley switches from your lap to his. He picks up her bunny plushie that she dropped and gently shakes it to grab her attention, earning a wide smile from the baby who wraps her arms around the toy.

“She does like me,” he says with a child-like excitement laced into his tone.

After that, your husband’s attention was fixed solely on Riley. You couldn’t complain at all because the unexpected pair is beyond adorable.

She looks like a tiny, fragile doll perched on the strong arms that are now constantly carrying her around. He plays with her, feeds her, talks to her. Typically Sylus would be sleeping by the afternoon to upkeep his nocturnal schedule but today he was watching the baby roll around on the carpet.

“Aren’t you having too much fun? Riley’s real parents will be over in ten minutes to pick her up,” you inform him as you sit down on the couch. Sylus, who’s sitting on the floor, leans his head back to rest against your thigh.

“That’s a shame. Riley and I are practically besties,” he says but you can’t help the chortle that escapes your mouth when he uses the word ‘besties’. Aside from that, it’s evident that he genuinely doesn’t want to part ways with this baby who he actually got along with.

Unfortunately for Sylus and Riley, your co-worker came back after a busy day thanking you immensely for taking care of their little princess. You stress that it was absolutely okay, if anything Riley is more than welcome to stay with you and her beloved uncle Sylus any time.

Sylus stands in the distance, frowning as you hand Riley back over to her mother.

From that day, you’ve been continuing as normal. The image of Sylus with a baby was definitely a sight to behold, but you know that it will happen to you two in due time.

Sylus had become possessed. Not with a spirit or even a demon, but a desire that’s forcing him to fixate on the idea of having a child. Holding Riley for a day had unleashed this new aching need in his mind.

He decided to leave some not-so-subtle hints of his wishes.

Instance one, Sylus returned from a trip from the gym with a shopping bag in hand. He pads outside to the backyard where you’re lounging around, his skin shimmering with the sweat accumulated from his workout.

“What’s that?” You ask him, pointing to the bag that he slightly hides behind him.

“Oh, this?” Sylus plays dumb. He hands the bag to you and you’re suspicious. You peer into the bag, finding a pair of shoes resting amongst some tissue paper. The shoes are a caramel-coloured pair which are also the size of your palm.

“Baby shoes…” You say with a fake excited tone, making Sylus laugh.

“They were… on sale. I couldn’t pass up on the chance.”

Bullshit. Sylus doesn’t care for sales, he never did. He’s able to lavish millions at auctions and doesn’t hesitate to buy everything at top dollar just for you. Sylus is generally a good liar until it comes to you.

“Right…”

Instance two, when you came home from work to be met with the sight of your husband lounging on the couch with the smell of food wafting through the air. You stand in front of him with your hands on your hips. You thought he went to work today.

“Welcome home,” he greets you with a smile, sitting up from his spot on the couch.

“Why are you home so early?” You ask as Sylus tugs you down beside him, giving you a kiss on the cheek and he hums thoughtfully.

“I figured I could take the day off to take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” His answer only confused you more.

Sylus isn’t fazed by your confusion though, he only leans his head down on your shoulder. “I have no trouble taking days off. Being the boss means having free rein to take as many days off as I please,” he explains, but you aren’t really sure why.

“I’m aware.”

Sylus continues, “that means we wouldn’t need to stress if we were to expand our family arrangements.”

A beat of silence rings through the room before you let out a sigh. Another tactic performed by your husband to convince you that he wants a baby sooner rather than later. He has always shared the load of cooking dinner and doing chores around the house but now he’s taking whole days off just to prove his competence to become a family man.

“Totally.”

Instance three, he sits upright in bed, blanket draped over his legs as he handles his phone with only one hand. He wasn’t usually the type to be attached to his phone, often only using them to make business calls, contact you and take photos of you. Yet here he was watching something intently on his phone with a small smile on his face.

Curious, you crawl into bed beside him and peer over at his screen.

“What are you watching?” You ask. Sylus wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you right next to him, his hand resting at your hip as he tilts his phone to show you.

“Isn’t this cute, sweetie?” He says, scrolling through a social media app you didn’t know he had and showing you various family-related content.

“You’ve caught baby fever, haven’t you?” You poke fun at Sylus and gently prod his cheek with your finger.

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Not at all,” he says, avoiding admittance in a sarcastic manner. His act crumbles the moment he looks over at you and sees your judgemental stare. “...The thought of having a child has definitely been occupying my mind more than usual.” He says, tapping his fingers against your body.

“I think we would make exceptional parents.” A glimmer of yearning stirs in his eyes when he nudges his nose against your jawline. Your breath hitches as he slowly inches his nose along your jaw, his lips eventually finding yours to claim. He pours all his love and need into it, his hands becoming more fervent in their exploration of your body.

The force of his actions toppled you back against the mattress. His hands brace themselves on either side of you, boxing you in as you rake your gaze over the way his cheeks flushed with a prominent pink blush when he pulls away.

His breathing is already picking up pace, mirroring his heart rate. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours with a gravelly whisper, “We better start practicing, don’t you think?”

You’d be lying if you said you hated the way he doted on you, despite all the protests you throw his way every time he ensured you heeded his warnings. 

Visiting Skyhaven wasn’t your favourite activity in the world, especially considering the eerie memories that are tied into each step you take along the pavement. Alas, you end up making trips up to the floating island anyway just to see your childhood best friend once in a while. Despite the initial uninviting aura of this place, he always makes this place feel a little lighter, a little more bearable. 

Since Caleb was busy being a Farspace Fleet Colonel, you didn’t want to be stranded at his place waiting for him to come back home like some lost puppy. You wanted to feel a bit productive, even if it was strolling down the street just to simply feel the breeze brush against your skin. 

Whilst on your lone adventure, you notice the busy, modern building that is Skyhaven hospital nearby. You surprised yourself with how far you’ve walked while being spaced out in your own thoughts. Coming to a gradual halt, you scan your surroundings and notice that you’re standing outside a cafe. 

Through the large panes of glass, your eyebrows raise in surprise when you see a particularly familiar face. Black hair, hazel eyes hiding behind glasses and scarred, slender fingers typing away busily on a keyboard. 

“Zayne…” You whisper. It’s not a foreign sight to see Zayne in Skyhaven, as he’s mentioned coming here at times for work purposes. You didn’t quite expect for the two of you to be stopping over at the same time. 

The bell chimes as you enter the door, the smell of coffee wafts through the air as you turn your head and stride towards Zayne. You creep up behind him, suddenly pushing your palms against his shoulders giving him a small jolt in surprise. Zayne jumps a bit, his eyes widened with annoyance which instantly melts from his gaze as it’s set upon you. He removes his glasses, a warm smile on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting to meet you here,” Zayne greets you cordially, his foot pushing the chair across from him to urge you to sit down with him. You take up the invitation, sliding into the seat with a nod. 

“Likewise. I’m here for a mission,” you say, a little white lie. You haven’t really told Zayne about the fact that you’ve been seeing Caleb on all these visits. He knows that Caleb is alive, you told him when you got back from a particular mission, but you haven’t mentioned that Skyhaven is where Caleb resides. 

You absentmindedly reach for Zayne’s coffee cup and take a tentative sip, forgetting how much of a sweet tooth the doctor is as you’re immediately bombarded with the taste of his sugar infused drink. Your nose scrunches in response and it earns an airy chuckle from Zayne. 

“You’ve been running many missions in Skyhaven, haven’t you?” Zayne inquires. You have been telling him about your trips a lot, especially when they clashed with your appointments with him as your primary care physician. 

“Yes, well, there’s still an abundance of protocore related mysteries that circle back to this place,” you explain, trying your best to sound as convincing as possible. You twiddle with your thumbs a bit under the table before asking another question to divert the subject, “how long are you in Skyhaven for?” 

“Another week. There’s been an influx of patients and a shortage of doctors so I have to extend my stay.” 

“Doctor Zayne, busy as always. I’ll stay another week too so we can go back to Linkon together,” you suggest. Zayne nods, almost enthusiastic at the idea. He leans his chin against his palm, pushing a plate of macaroons towards you which you didn’t notice was in front of him.

“Take some,” Zayne urges. You smile, finding it endearing how he easily shared everything of his with you. You pluck a macaroon from the plate between your fingers and take a bite. You don’t quite know how Zayne can handle eating such a sweet treat paired with a sugary drink and not be bouncing off the walls. 

You feel comfortable in Zayne’s presence, sitting like this with him in this cafe and sharing treats with him. He’s like a cozy blanket and a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy day. 

Amidst your idle chatter and soft laughs, you catch the silhouette of a tall and imposing shadow standing over the empty plate set in the middle of the table. 

“Pipsqueak?” Calls the man who stands beside you. You almost jumped out of your skin when you realised who it was. Caleb. In the cafe, in front of you and Zayne. You hold your breath when Zayne’s head turns towards him.

Time stops after Caleb’s precipitous intervention. Your eyes quickly dart back to Zayne, expecting some sort of surprised reaction. However, all he does is furrow his eyebrows in a mildly displeased manner.

“Caleb,” he addresses. Caleb grimaces at Zayne’s tone. “Hey, Zayne. Always a pleasure,” Caleb says with a small nod of his head, leaning his hand against the back of your chair. 

Zayne turns back to you, inspecting your expression with his eyes. You’re not reacting with any surprise from Caleb’s appearance either and it promptly clicks in his mind that you must’ve known he was coming here. 

“Yeah, I came here to see pipsqueak but I wasn’t aware of how close you two got,” Caleb says casually, catching onto the small pause between the three of you and doing his due diligence to clear the air. “I thought she would’ve told you she’s here to see me. I’m a bit disheartened.” He says, playing into a feigned wounded act as he places his hand over his heart.

Zayne’s expression immediately morphs into mild annoyance. It’s something that only you can pick up on, as he just looks like his usual stoic self. However, you pick up on the way his straight eyebrows slightly furrow and his eyes are narrowed just a smidgen.

Ever since you were little, you’ve always been the bridge between Zayne and Caleb. Admittedly, they dislike each other until you come into the picture to play mediator. They only tolerate being around each other as long as you’re around as well. 

Zayne looks back at Caleb, angling his glasses back against his nose, “We’ll be going back to Linkon in a week’s time together.”

“Together?” Caleb asks with a small chuckle, but his teeth are clenched. 

“Yes,” Zayne nods, extra nonchalantly just for Caleb. His watch beeps, indicating that his break time is over and that he should head back to the hospital to continue tending to patients and saving the day as usual. Zayne begrudgingly dismisses himself, offering you a smile before he leaves the cafe. 

Caleb’s eyes follow Zayne out the door, a small relieved sigh escaping his lips as he replaces Zayne’s presence in the chair across from you. He places his hat on the table, tapping his fingers against the glass table.

“You’re going with Zayne, huh? Leavin’ me behind?” He asks. 

You roll your eyes, the connotations in Caleb’s tone are all too familiar. You shoot back, “I have to go back home.” 

Caleb’s lips pull down in protest, he gestures for you to bring your hands up to the table. His large hands envelope yours in his warmth, amber eyes staring at you almost pleadingly. “Why not make this your home? I can take care of you just fine.” 

His manipulation tactics wouldn’t work on you. Perhaps it worked for putting a jacket on you before leaving the house, or insisting that you eat the dinner he makes at home instead of having takeout. When it comes to Linkon, you remain firm on not wanting to leave at all. It’s your home, even if Caleb isn’t there anymore. You attempt to explain,  “I have a life of my own, Caleb. I can’t just drop everything and live here.” 

He pauses and tilts his head slightly, a plan formulating in his mind. He gives your hands a small squeeze.

“It’s because of your job, right?” He asks. You nod. It’s half of the reason why you prefer Linkon anyway.

Before you could tell him that though, he flicks a gaze to you that looks like he’s already concocted some sort of plan or reached an epiphany. 

“I’ll move in with you,” he says finally. 

You were just about to laugh when you’re caught by the absolute serious expression Caleb is wearing. You wait a second, two seconds, for him to break character and say he’s joking because of his own occupation and responsibilities keeping him tied to Skyhaven. To your dismay, he’s 100% not joking.

“You’re not serious.” 

“I am. I don’t have to pack my bags or anything, I can just buy everything again in Linkon. And I can live with you, or near you, whichever you prefer. Then you don’t have to lean on Zayne who’s always too busy to help you,” he starts and then keeps rambling. He’s pouring all the contents of his heart onto this cafe table right in front of you. You’re stunned by the utter sincerity in his tone.

“Caleb…” 

You were prepared for the arduous journey. When the sky dimmed and dark clouds started looming over the masts, you assured your crew that the ship was right and the upcoming storm wouldn’t interfere with the goal ahead. 

Perched upon the railing of the main deck with a marked map in your hands, the spark of your dreams nestled tightly in your heart. It’s simply any pirate’s aspiration to find the most valuable of treasures ever but you were going to achieve it. 

Your ship started rocking against the barbarous waves. Rain starts pouring shortly after, pellets hurling towards your ship almost tearing a hole through your map which you quickly roll up and shove through your belt. The weather doesn’t seem to relent, only growing more and more adamant to extinguish your determination. 

A nudge to your shoulder snaps you out of your trance and you look over to see your right-hand, Jenna, meeting your eyes with a concerned gaze. 

“Still no doubts, huh?” She questions. You can only manage a shrug of your shoulders before responding, “One of us has to keep faith.” 

“You’re just playing with fire cap’n,” Jenna remarks. 

“And you’re not cap’n, so don’t get to question me. Savvy?” You bite back. She wouldn’t know the true spirit of being a captain anyway. Jenna conceals the roll of her eyes before resuming back to her position of looking over the rail of the ship. As the rain persists with more force, your hair and attire clings to your skin as you turn around back to the rest of the ship. Your crew, loyal as ever, work through the rain and oncoming storm, scrambling about on the main deck as they tend to their duties. You breathe in the salty sea air, almost tasting the briny breeze on your tongue. 

Ignoring how the rain dampened the mood of the rest of your crew, you decided to let it fuel your desire of exploration further. A few drops of rain can’t diminish your spirit; you’re a pirate. 

That’s what you tell yourself. Absolutely nothing can diminish your spirit.

“Ca- Cap’n! It’s Sylus, he’s near!” You hear the horrified cry of Jenna and that immediately grabs your attention. Once you scurry over to her, she hastily shoves her spyglass into your hands. Squinting your eyes over the glass, you make out the outline of another ship through the heavy rain and light fog. A ship with a crow imprinted flag adorning the main mast. 

Great. Just your fucking luck.

Sylus is the captain of that ship and your sworn enemy. The last time you interacted with him it ended with his ship getting blown up and both of you with broken limbs. You remember him threatening your ship would be next as if he was taking an oath. Back then, you believed you wouldn’t ever cross paths with him again. 

It seems that even if Sylus had evaded your mind, he followed you here. 

His ship draws closer, cannons ablaze and pointed straight at you. Your instincts kick in immediately and you start firing orders at your crew the next second. 

Although, Sylus was two steps ahead. His first shot was already hurling to your ship, the iron clashing with the bow of your ship and ripping it right off. The wood crumbles down, disappearing into the hungry depths of the ocean. You’ve never felt heartbreak quite like this before. 

Your boat, that you spent your entire adolescence dreaming of and building up. Your heart is tied up somewhere in the sails, remnants brushed over the main deck where you’ve seen your dreams come true as you persisted through your journey. 

You try to collect yourself and push your crew all to the gun deck. They all reciprocate Sylus’s attacks by lighting up cannons and shooting back at his ship. There was a constant back and forth. People yelling, cannons booming and blazing, ships lurching violently as the ocean grows with the rain and slowly swallows every piece that falls from either ship. 

Deep down you know your ship isn’t making it. 

Sylus seemed to have souped up his ship specially for this occasion. His ship takes hits but doesn’t seem to be falling apart as easily as yours. You don’t realise that you’ve been standing still with your fists clenched beside you until there’s a blast right beside you. You stumble back from the impact, splinters of wood grazing your skin and leaving scratches in their wake. 

You can’t stay here. 

You know that staying here will only lead to your demise. Whilst everyone else is busy fighting and trying to protect the ship your mind starts to wander about places to avoid the wreckage and chaos and abandon ship. 

You can’t help it. Pirate’s instinct. You’ve always been conditioned to act first without thinking, and everyone else just somehow slips away and blurs into the background of your mind. 

Slowly, you make your way to the davit of the ship where the emergency jollyboat is stored. The rain seems to be relenting now, as you tug the ropes down and lower the boat onto the water. Without a second thought, you’re jumping from your beloved ship into the boat and letting the harsh waves sweep you away from the horrific scene behind you.

You watch with your very own eyes, your ship which falls apart slowly with people sacrificing their lives for the battle. You already know the sickening smug grin that’s probably tugging on Sylus’s lips. He’s lucky he’s not in your vicinity right now because the punch you would throw to his face would be fatal. 

It’s now just you, the waves, a couple bottles of rum rolling around your feet and the rain that’s reduced to a light pitter-patter. You take hold of the paddles and guide the boat along the sea that’s stubbornly whisking you away. 

Soon enough you can’t see your ship. You hold on tightly to the sides as the water grown by rain sweeps you away. With a heavy heart and nothing but your rum, you sit alone with the music of the tides serenading you as you wonder about your ship and how so much work had gone to waste because of some petty revenge.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Around two bottles down is when you start worrying about where you’re going. You’ve been lucky so far to be getting a relatively steady trip so far as you reached the end of the rainfall but you start to think and fear for your safety when dusk will hit.

The solitude and faint swishing from the animals swimming by almost makes you feel dizzy. You’ve seen hundreds of fish, some rays, an octopus and what you swear was a whale shark in the far distance. Sea creatures never really scared you at all, but now that you’re much closer to the water compared to your cushy ship you’re starting to feel a bit uneasy about what lurks underneath you. 

You curl up on the wooden floor of the boat, leaning your head against the rigid slab that was a seat. It was hurting to constantly be sitting on such hard wood, and there was no protection from the sun’s rays at all. You wonder how worth it was to abandon ship, maybe you should’ve stuck around to give that Sylus some deserved payback for destroying the one thing you loved in this world. 

You turn your head, leaning your chin against the side of the boat. You gingerly peer into the water again, facing your fear of spotting something scary in the water. 

Then it caught your eye. 

From your peripheral, a flicker of something.

It was quick. A motion that was barely there but out of sheer paranoia you had caught it. Your heart starts to pick up pace but you firmly reassure yourself that it was probably just another fish. The bigger kind of fish, like a catfish. Although, you aren’t so sure about the likelihood of catfish being found in the middle of the sea like this. 

There it was again. 

This time, you’re sure it wasn’t just your imagination. There was a flick of a tail under the boat which flung water right into your eyes. You instinctively flinch back, rubbing your eyes free from the salty droplets invading your vision before you look back below the boat.

“What the fuck?!” You shout, voice echoing into the emptiness of the sky. 

A head of violet pokes out from under the blue. A pleasant bluish-pink hue swims in the eyes staring back at you. You almost tumble over the side of the boat in sheer shock.

Out of all the creatures in the sea, you’ve never encountered a mermaid before. Of course, you’ve heard tales about them being just the most beautiful things you could ever lay your eyes on. People have scoured the seven seas trying to locate where the mermaids reside exactly. Yet here you are, face-to-face with one without even trying. 

He hoists himself up, leaning on his arms against the side of the boat. You get a clearer glimpse of his unique eyes, his flawless skin littered with beauty marks. Your jaw almost goes slack upon seeing him, your mouth as dry as cotton. All you do is stay eerily still and admire him. 

“A mermaid,” you murmur. There’s a beat of silence which you use to digest the fact that you’re witnessing a real life mermaid in front of you. Everything about this encounter screams unnatural, you can’t help but wonder if your drinks were spiked with something worse.

However, there’s a flash of struggle in his gaze when his tail thrashes a bit in the water behind him. You sneak a glance, registering the fact that his tail is a shimmering azure blue that matches the sea. He doesn’t seem to have a voice because he only looks expectedly at you and quietly winces out of pain. The fish net tangled in his fins catches your eye a second later. 

Perhaps on a normal day you would’ve overlooked the problem and been on your merry way. Today is not a normal day though, and your bad deeds today are enough to fill and overflow a barrel. 

“Let me…” You offer uncharacteristically. To balance the scales of your deeds today, you decide to accomplish a positive endeavor. You lean your arms down to gesture for the mermaid’s tail. He hesitates, but you remain unwavering in wanting to only help. The mermaid’s fins slowly emerge from the water and with a couple firm tugs on the rigid net you’re able to free him from its grasp. 

You watch as the mermaid’s eyebrows lift and his tail swishes freely in the water. He turns his head, his smile widening. Every expression he pulls is just as dainty as the last and leaves you wondering how the mermaid has truly lived up to the folklores that rave about their untouchable, unadulterated beauty. 

“I wonder if you have a name,” you ponder out loud. 

The mermaid nods wordlessly. He taps the side of the boat intently. One short tap, a longer tap, a short one again. When you quirked an eyebrow up in confusion, he tries again. He taps the same pattern with more urgency, and you pick up at the morse code. What a smart mermaid.

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L

“Rafayel?” You question. The mermaid, seemingly named Rafayel nods enthusiastically once you pick up on the name he indicated. He applauds you for a few seconds. You can’t help but find his mannerisms to be odd. 

You thought the interaction would end there, that the mermaid will grow bored of you looking lost and trying to gauge where possibly you could be on the map that was tucked into your belt. To your surprise, every time you lowered the map from your eyes, Rafayel would be staring back at you with equally as much interest. When you stirred your paddle through the water to maneuver it forward, the mermaid would follow.

“Are ya gonna follow me to the ends of the Earth?” You ask later, kicking your boots up against the other end of the boat as you take your break. Rafayel wears a puzzled expression from your question and eventually shrugs his shoulders. You click your tongue, unbelieving. 

The sun eventually faded from the sky, leaving only a blank darkness behind. You frown at the fact that you weren’t able to find land before sunset. Luckily, the emergency boat was equipped with a lantern to battle the darkness. It takes a while to light but soon enough you have your lantern perched upon the seat across from you as you stare daggers into your map. 

A splash next to you indicates Rafayel’s arrival from dipping his head underwater for a breath. You turn your head and let out a yelp when Rafayel proved to be way closer than you anticipated. His eyes, the blue now seeping into the pink and threatening to take over his irises. Why did his eyes change so frequently?

Sometimes it felt like he was holding back on something. When the blue in his eyes emerges, he blinks a couple times and shudders a bit. It’s as if he’s snapping himself out of a spell, before he looks back and you see the pink and blue back in tandem. The lack of words to explain this behaviour puts you a bit on edge. He always wears that usual amiable expression on his face afterwards, eyes shining with curiosity in your direction as you tried not to show too much fear over his erratic behaviour. 

Rafayel peers over to the map you’re holding, the orange glow of the lantern highlighting all the land masses surrounded by ocean as you continue trying to pinpoint your location. The mermaid, however, reaches his arm out and taps a finger against a spot in the ocean, his little taps leaving water droplets for the paper to soak up. 

“Are we here?” You ask him for clarification. He nods. How on Earth did he decipher that? You look back at the map, trying to squint and narrow your eyes to hopefully catch what he apparently understood so fast. You give Rafayel an accusatory glare and inquire further, “and you knew this the entire time?” 

Rafayel only shrugs his shoulders, wordless as always. You poke your tongue in your cheek, silently cursing the mermaid for watching you stare dumbly at this map for who knows how long when he knew the answer the entire time. 

“Piece of shit,” you murmur, your sight lingering on the droplet on the map indicating where you are. Rafayel only laughs at you. This is the first time you’re hearing something that is close to his voice, the silken sound reaching your ears sounding like the sweetest melody. You can’t help but feel captivated by him yet again. 

Leaning closer, Rafayel matches your movement. You only realise what you did when you feel your nose nudge against the cold tip of his nose. It’s as if he was the one who cast a fishing line to hook you in, bringing you closer to him. You resist the temptation and break away. What the hell is wrong with you? You’re a pirate. You wouldn’t let your spirit be waned because of some pretty mermaid. 

Except you did.

Rafayel’s gaze on you was wistful. Despite you coming to a moment of realisation, the close proximity between you two seemed to have snapped something within him. He lunges forward, connecting his frigid lips against yours. Never in a million years did you think you would end up kissing a mermaid, but his kiss was surprisingly gentle. He knew how to move them smoothly against yours, pouring his yearning into the action. 

When you let yourself indulge in him, he sets his elbows on the rim of the boat to keep himself up and one hand skims over your cheek. You shiver at the contact. 

Your lips separate. His eyes are blue again, his breathing is heavy. He’s doing that thing again, where there’s a supernatural force he’s trying to combat. He shakes his head, assuring you that he’s fine. 

His hand remains on the side of your face, his thumb runs over your cheek, grazing your bottom lip. He leans in for more. You give him more. 

You’ve always been selfish, you accepted that fact and wore it like a badge of honour throughout your entire life. Selfishness is how you became a captain, built your ship and gathered a loyal crew. Granted, selfishness was also how you lost it all. You wouldn’t ever admit that though, you’ll use your power of arrogance to build it all up again. 

So why is it that you’re feeling your resolve crumbling in the hands of Rafayel? 

When his hand caresses your jaw, moving down to your neck. His arms that circle your shoulders tug you closer. You feel his icy body against yours, his torso pressed against your dishevelled clothes. 

You lost yourself in the kiss. You would actually let him whisk you away. 

Splash.

That’s all it took. A sudden jerk of Rafayel’s arms pulling you closer. The ocean engulfing your form. You became part of him, dragged to the depths to be with him for all of eternity. 

The boat steadily sways in cooperation with the waves, a lonely lantern perched upon the seat where you once sat. 

Your selfishness, an attribute that you used to pride yourself on, ultimately led to your demise under the deep sea. 

All because one of your coworkers insisted you have a drink despite you repeatedly turning the offer down, attempting to spare the experience of being hammered today. The brunet pushed a glass of liquor towards you, coaxing you to believe that “just one drink won’t hurt.” 

Saying that you were annoyed would be an understatement, and your eyes darted about to find some sort of an excuse to slip away from your overbearing coworker. There wasn’t anyone around at the gathering of the hunter’s association to save you, all your friends either being occupied or already drunk and slumped over at the bar. You begrudgingly wrap your fingers around the shot-glass, praying in your mind that taking this shot will brush this coworker off your back. Before you could lift up the glass, another pair of fingers encased yours.

“She doesn’t wish to drink tonight,” Xavier interjects, the rough edge of his tone apparent despite his calm demeanour. 

“Come on! It can’t possibly be that bad,” The man jeers with a roll of his eyes. Xavier’s jaw clenches and he immediately latches his lips to the rim of the glass and tilts his head back to down the shot completely before you could chime in. The man’s eyebrows quirk up, and he challenges Xavier to another shot.

From there, it only escalated. One shot turned to two, which turned to five and that’s how you ended up in the back of a cab with a drowsy Xavier nuzzling his face into your shoulder. 

You sit still, arms crossed in front of your chest. You aren’t amused at all with the fact that Xavier fell into the trap, that he kept accepting challenges and drinking more regardless of the fact that it was obviously all a ruse just to irk Xavier and get him drunk. 

“You didn’t have to drink every shot he offered you… he was just messing with you,” you scolded Xavier lightly, nudging his head away with your finger. 

He only whines in response. He’s leaned against your left shoulder, his arms encircling your body so his hands are linked by your right hip. “I- I didn’t like that guy.” 

“Like or not, you shouldn’t just fall for people’s tricks like that,” you press further. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but Xavier to be painfully cute in this state. You watch the cab turn into your street intently and come to a halt in front of your apartment building. 

You lugged the drunk man out of the cab, he walked beside you with a contemplative pout tugging at his lips. The second you two board into the elevator and the door closes, Xavier steps in behind you and his chin immediately makes home on your shoulder. 

“You smell sweet,” he whispers. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when his breath ghosts over your neck. His fingers trail from your shoulder, to your elbow, down your forearm and grazing over your wrist until his fingers interlock with yours.

“Xavier…” You try to warn him, but the words die on your tongue when the elevator doors open and you step forward with a clingy Xavier hung around your shoulders like your own personal human backpack. 

You manage to enter his apartment, taking off your shoes and Xavier follows suit by hastily kicking off his own. His apartment looks like it always does, like nobody resides here. It’s always clean, untouched and the furniture is straight from a catalogue with barely any personality gracing the place. That’s aside from a small photo frame hung on the wall by the entrance from the time you both modelled for the Twinkle Photobooth. It was a small pop of colour against the otherwise dull white walls. 

You’re stopped from taking another step into the living room when Xavier’s hands place on your waist and pull you until your back makes contact with his broad chest. He’s more needy than usual and acting as if he’s allergic to letting you go at all. His thumbs rub tender circles into your hips, his lips pressing soft kisses along the column of your neck. When his hand snakes up dangerously close to the hem of your shirt, you immediately grab his wrist and stop him.

His eyes open, caught by surprise. 

“You don’t want-?” 

“Shouldn’t we get to bed?” You cut him off. You hate to be falling under his spell when he’s intoxicated, even if it’s becoming increasingly hellish to hold back. The moment you hold the reins of your self-control and push it down, you start to forcefully nudge him into his bedroom where you plan to leave him there when he falls asleep.

“I’m not too drunk. I feel fine enough to move on my own,” Xavier protests. He lets himself be shoved into his bedroom. He wants to convince you that he isn’t as drunk as you’re making it seem especially after noticing that you were actively ignoring his protests.

Planted by the foot of his bed, you expect Xavier to give up and go to sleep like he usually does. He starts to tug off his white jacket, swinging it off his arms and discarding it on the ground. It leaves him in a form-fitting black turtleneck that he was wearing underneath. Your eyes shamelessly rest right on the places where the fabric really accentuates the muscles he conceals most of the time. 

Xavier doesn’t relent on his show of affection towards you. He leans in and pecks your lips. You immediately step back from him, half from instinct and half from plainly wanting to mess with him. His eyebrows furrow and his pout is imminent from watching you move away. 

“Please?” He beseeched, as if a kiss equated to oxygen for him. 

You roll your eyes, trying to present yourself as annoyed but as soon as you blink his lips crash against yours again. It was a soft exchange at first but desperation was quick to consume him, his soul practically pouring into the kiss and causing you two to stumble back onto his bed. 

You find yourself not minding the faint scent of alcohol that exudes from his clothing. His warmer, larger body hovers over yours and his lips work fervently with yours. He uses one hand to steady himself over you and the other hand slides up to cup your chin, tilting your face up even more to deepen the kiss. 

Your fingers tangle into his hair, gripping at the blond locks to keep yourself sane so you don’t absolutely lose it with the way Xavier is acting like he needs this, like this is his sole purpose. Even if it was inevitable, your composure was slipping faster than sand between your fingers. You can’t help the way you suddenly tug at his hair, the action eliciting a low grunt from him, the sound guttural from surprise. The moment your lips separate and your eyes meet again, his gaze is darkened to a deep blue. 

“Do that again,” He orders. His voice breathy and teetering on a whimper. You weren’t expecting him to suddenly pause and request you tug at his hair again. Did he… like it? When you tighten your grip on the roots of his locks again, he gives a reaction similar to the last. His body shudders, a low groan escaping his lips.  

“You have no idea what you do me…” He mutters. He leans back in for more, the way his mind demands for you is enough to engulf him. He becomes lost in the sensations. Your lips, your body, you. Tonight, he plans to do nothing but show you exactly how much he appreciates you.

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