Bigger Person by Lauren Spencer Smith
You break up with your Ex, but when you get on the phone with your therapist to vent she brings up a point you didn't expect. It's all you can do to hold yourself together until Rafayel intervenes.
mentions and implied mentions of SA, Rafayel being pissed off, implications of self harm, shock, emotional responses, anxiety attacks, dissassociation, self-isolation, murder, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, lots of healing physically, emotionally and mentally, Friends to Lovers
Please be aware of your own mental health as you read this. There will be a ton of back and forth with emotions. Take care of yourself first, if you are not mentally ready for talks of SA, please do not read.
It's a storm you have to be willing to brave and you are always willing to brave it. You didn't believe in fairy tales, you knew relationships aren't like the movies. You knew that they took work and effort to make them effective. They weren't always happy ever after. Sometimes they ended in ashes and flames, sometimes they ended in silence and sorrow. You knew that. And yet, the hope in your chest breaking over yet another failed relationship couldn't help but hurt. You were tired of crying over the failures, you learned early that being heartless and cold was easier than letting everyone know something was wrong.
That's why when you broke up with your now ex, he had called you a bitch. He even had the nerve to say you'd come crawling back to him, that you were nothing. But you rolled your eyes, held your hand out for your house key and walked away as soon as it was in your grasp. As you walked away, your chest clenched in that familiar hurt. You'd truly thought that this would work, you'd been with your ex for a year and a half. But the lack of reception from him hurt worse than walking away. No matter how many times you tried to have a conversation with him, he would somehow spin it around on you.
You didn't like the way he was speaking to you, well three months ago he didn't like that you hung out with a long time friend for four days while they were in town.
You didn't like that he was drinking so much, he didn't like that you went to your parents house without him.
There had been moments where you thought you were going insane because he would make you feel awful for having feelings about how you were being treated. You even went to Tara, your friend from the Hunters Association to ask for advice, because you didn't know if you were in the wrong. She reassured you many times you weren't, and you went about your life. On your walk back home, you took a deep breath and made an appointment with your usual therapist. It was a virtual appointment, so as soon as you walked into your two bedroom apartment you opened your laptop and began the meeting as the clock hit 6. You and her had a long conversation, some realizations were made and you couldn't help but feel guilty. Compared to some people things went better then it could have gone, but it still was what it was.
As soon as your appointment had ended, you shut your laptop and sat back in your office chair and stared up at the ceiling, processing everything that had gone on in therapy. And suddenly you felt like sobbing, you had been proud of the walls you built around your heart. You had been happy to end the chapter of your life with your ex, well not happy, but content at least. You could be on your own, you didn't need anyone. But you wanted someone in your life that would love you unconditionally. You wanted to be chosen for once. And clearly the person to do that wasn't your ex. His love came with conditions and consequences. And you felt stupid for just now realizing it.
You didn't want to dwell on it, so you went to your bathroom and took a shower. Not a long one, just long enough to wash the day away and let the scent of your favorite soap sink into your skin. When you exited the bathroom, you threw on your Hunters Association gear before you realized the time, 6 pm your clock read. It was way too late to be going in for a shift. But you wanted to train, no need to. You needed to blow off some steam. The more you thought about your therapist's words, the more pissed off you became. You were pissed you weren't stronger, mentally and emotionally. You were pissed because of what he had done to you without even realizing it had been done. You hated feeling weak, feeling used. But you were feeling both and you wanted nothing more than to take your anger at yourself and hatred for him out on something.
You made your way to the training grounds despite the hour long drive, with a duffle bag of necessities. Your boxing gloves were going to be essential for tonight, you had brought a change of clothes and a water bottle too. As you walked in the glass doors of the Association, Tara caught you with a smile and wave. You merely offered a small smile and a nod her way before you turned to the locker rooms. You missed the way her smile fell as she watched you walk away. She pulled her phone out and messaged your boss and sent off a series of quick texts before she followed you in.
“What's wrong?” She asked as soon as she saw you. Her voice echoed off the rows of metal lockers and cement walls. You pulled your sweatpants on and looked at her.
“Nothing, I'm fine.” You tried with a smile, one that clearly wasn't working as she raised a brow at you as if to say bullshit. When you didn't offer more she huffed and sat down next to you on the wooden bench that occupied the row.
“Come on, you can talk to me. What did he do this time?” She felt you flinch, it was miniscule, barely a bat of your eyes. But she saw it and narrowed her eyes. “What did he do?”
“Nothing, I broke up with him today. That's all.” Tara grabbed your arms and shook you relentlessly.
“That sucks, I'm sorry. I know you loved him. But look at the bright side, you have your house all to yourself again which means unlimited horror movie nights.” You couldn't help but let out a small huff of a laugh.
“Yeah, you're right. Thanks Tara.” You smile at her genuinely, it was all you could do to muster up the smile you had given her. She threw her arm around your shoulders and gave you a quick squeeze before standing up.
“Don't stay here too long okay? You need rest and emotional recharge.” You nod at her before she waves goodbye and leaves the locker room. You sat there a moment, staring at the white tiles under your combat boots, thinking maybe you should have told her. Maybe you should have asked her to stay, but you couldn't bring yourself to dump your problems and thoughts onto her. So you stood up and made your way into the training room. On one side, the weight machines and dumbbells sat in their reserved slots. On the other was a wall of full length mirrors that you somehow didn't think you wanted to face. In the center of the room sat a fighting ring and a couple of punching bags hung up sporadically. You looked down at the gloves you had put on and decided boxing would be the last thing you'd do. You were going to push your body first, you were hoping that would be all it would take to settle you down. You took your gloves off and started with a 2 mile walk on the treadmill to warm up. Followed by some stretches then the actual workout, you did more reps with the weights then you usually would but you were stuck in your head and couldn't get past it. What your therapist had said drilled a hole in your mind and your brain was trying to wrap around it, but kept slipping.
You moved from weights to doing some weighted squats and lunges. Continuing your normal work out routine, but you added more reps than usual for those too. You just needed some time, that's all. Soon enough you were dripping in sweat, but you still couldn't get your mind to slow down. You couldn't get your heart to slow down. You still wanted to cry and you berated yourself for it. Finally you said fuck it, you checked the time and huffed. It was well past 11 pm, but you couldn't care less, you weren't done. You threw your gloves back on and stood in front of the punching bag. You allowed yourself a moment to take a couple deep breaths before you started, trying to get your heart rate under control. When you felt it was right you began hitting the bag with quick but light one two hits. You were trying to go easy, you really were.
Frustration was starting to rise in your chest, bubbling up like liquid flames that you couldn't seem to escape. It felt like you were choking, you took your gloves off and grabbed your water bottle, chugging a little under half of it before walking over to the bag again. This time you hit it with everything you had. It swayed with each landing blow and more frustration built up. Each hit harder than the last, until you had to wait a second for the bag to come back to you only to be flung away again.
You were so focused you hadn't heard Rafayel sneak into the room, he watched you with express displeasure. You didn't have your gloves on and he was pretty sure you were bleeding. He walked over to you slowly, making sure not to make a sound before he stepped between you and the bag. He caught your fist before it could hit the bag again.
“Rafayel, what…are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?” You asked, your breaths coming out in shallow pants. He moved his hand down to your wrist and pulled you to come sit on the bench next to him. He sat facing you as he examined your knuckles, his face remained serious as he twisted and turned your hands.
“You could have broken your hands.” His voice was a low growl that had you wanting to pull your hands away from him.
“But I didn't. How did you know I was here?” You asked again, moving to stand up to get away from his prying eyes. He tightened his grip on you and forced you to remain sitting.
“Tara called me. Said something was off with you and asked me to check on you.” You moved to get up again but couldn't budge.
“Stop.” His voice rang in your ears and you stopped struggling. “I'm going to go get a first aid kit, stay here. When I get back you can tell me what is wrong.”
He waited for you to nod before leaving the room momentarily. You looked down at your hands and sighed. He was right though, each knuckle had split open and was letting a steady flow of blood down your hand. You open and close your hand, watching the skin tighten and release with pure detachment. You expected them to hurt, they didn't.
“You're going to make it worse, Ms. Bodyguard.” Rafayel said he sat back down. He took your hand and began disinfecting each knuckle carefully. “What happened?”
You bit your lip, you knew you couldn't hide much from Rafayel, but maybe you could do selective truths.
“Well I'm single now,” you started with a small huff. “Got my apartment key back from him this afternoon.”
“Thank the seas, I've been waiting for you to get rid of him.” He said softly, dumping a little more antiseptic on your knuckles and you hiss. “Now, what is actually wrong?”
You look down and away from Rafayel, you couldn't bring yourself to say what had been rolling in your head the entire time you trained. It made you feel pathetic, if you said it out loud you wondered if Rafayel would judge you, or call you ridiculous. But it was what your therapist had said, so was it really?
“I was talking to my therapist today and she said some outlandish things that I can't seem to wrap my head around.”
“Like?” He started wrapping some gauze around your left hand.
“I was telling her about our break up and the things he said. And I told her that even though it hurt I was almost relieved. At least I didn't have to deal with his constant nagging about my life and our sex life and what not. But she stopped me when I brought up our sex life and asked what I meant by nagging.” You voice faltered as your eyes welled up with tears. Rafayel paused his movements and looked up from your hands. He waited for you to continue patiently, allowing you a moment to breathe. “I told her that he would constantly nag about having sex. It didn't matter if I was exhausted from hunting or not, he would always say to just give him five minutes. And no matter how many times I said I was tired he would continue to push. So I gave in. I shouldn't have but I did. And she said that it was a form of sexual assault. That even coercion is considered non-concent. And I…”
Rafayel pulled you into a hug so tight you felt like you couldn't breathe. His hand held the back of your head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Shhhhh, it's not your fault.” He whispered. He nuzzled his face into your neck, as if he was scenting you like a cat.
“I'm okay.” You say softly while you wrap your arms around him, running your fingers through his hair while he got his fill of holding you.
“But you're not,” His breath cascaded down your collar bone. “You're here, you're hurting yourself. Your knuckles are bloody and you're crying. And you were going to handle this on your own, you didn't talk to Tara, you almost didn't tell me.”
“Rafayel,” you couldn't deny what he was saying. You didn't want to tell him. You didn't want anyone else to be involved, you just wanted to sort out your emotions and this was the only way you knew how. “I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to handle it. I'm so sorry.”
You laid your head on his shoulder and breathed, you didn't realize that you had started crying until he pushed your face into his chest and began rocking you back and forth.
“Shhhh, it's okay. You're okay. We are okay.” He repeated that over and over and over again until the ebb and flow of your breathing soothed into shallow waves. Slowly he pulled back from you and wiped your tears with his cardigan. “Let's go home. Let's take care of your hands, and get you showered.”
At your house, Rafayel readied the shower for you while you pulled some comfy clothes from your dresser. You settled on an over sized sweatshirt and some sweats, when you were sure of your choice you made your way to the bathroom. You watched as Rafayel fussed over the water temperature and grabbed your towel. You raised your brow at him, he looked at you with a look that said what, I'm doing what I said I would. You rolled your eyes at him with a small smile, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Any time Cutie,” he winked at you, you let out a huff and moved. “Now get clean, you smell gross.”
You grabbed your hair brush and threw it at him. Skillfully, he dodged with a chuckle and left the bathroom with your towel in hand. You waited a minute before finally shrugging off your clothes. You grimaced as you realized they stuck to your skin, even after most of the sweat you accumulated over the past couple hours had dried. You threw them into the corner of the bathroom and climbed into your shower. The hot water rushed over your shoulders and you could feel your body relax. Truly, you hadn't realized just how pent up you were. You felt like the world was on your shoulders and just wouldn't fully release you.
You wanted to say that the work out you'd gone and done helped your mental state. And for a while it had, but now that you were back at home and Rafayel had left you to your thoughts, you were stuck. You felt…dirty. Wrong. Like your body wasn't yours. You hadn't realized you'd grabbed your loofah and had started scrubbing your body with vigor, skin turning a deep bruised red.
You just wanted him off, you wanted the feel of your ex removed from your skin. From your being. From your existence. You hadn't realized you were crying until Rafayel knocked on the door.
“Hey, you doing okay?” His soft voice felt like needles in your ears. It caused you to flinch, shoulder hitting the wall of the shower with a soft thump.
“Y-yeah,” you sniffled, trying to will the tears to stop. The silence between you and Rafayel was deafening. You almost thought he'd left except there was a small noise made as he sat on the bathroom floor leaning against the tub.
“You know, in Lemuria, women were sacred. Rare amongst our kind, truly. They had more authority over the undersea than even most kings and queens had on land.”
You slowly sunk to the floor of the bathtub, leaning against the lip of it as you listened.
“A man like that, like your ex, would have gotten his tail cut off for the disrespect he aimed at you.” Rafayel's voice was low, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, like his evol was acting out without his permission and waves of heat circled the room.
“That would be a nice touch.” You said softly. “Actual justice for a man who knows nothing of respect.”
“He'll get his cutie.” His voice was steady with resolve. “He'll get his.”
“Can you leave so I can get out?” A soft laugh bubbled up his throat.
“Yeah, I can leave. Your towel is hanging up.” He slowly stood up and made his way to the door. “It'll be okay, cutie. One step at a time.”
He closed the door behind him and you made quick work of shutting the water off and getting out. You went to grab the towel and found it warm and plush under your touch and you couldn't help but smile softly at his thoughtfulness. Wrapping yourself up, you nuzzled into the piece of fabric, its warmth reminded you of a campfire on a cold night. The scent was very…Rafayel.
You let yourself take in the warmth for a moment before pulling on your comfy clothes. You carefully towel dried your hair before hanging it up to dry. You opened the door to the bathroom and made your way to the kitchen, where a mouth watering aroma lured you closer. You found Rafayel at the stove, apron on with a pan sizzling in his hand. You watched him a minute, the picture of him being domestic didn't seem to fit right. You were used to him dragging you around with chaos in your bones and fire in your veins. Unintentionally, you'd associated him with chaos, but you'd associated him with living too. He'd kept you safe when you needed him too, he'd been your sword when you asked, even burned himself to help you. Watching him in your kitchen, making food with an apron on felt real, tangible. Like him.
“How long are you planning on watching me from over there?” His amusement rang in his voice, his smirk could be felt from across the room despite him not even looking at you. You stood still for a little longer before sitting down on one of the bar stools at the island. Your kitchen was modest, with small white granite counters and a steel sink that sat on the island. It was large enough for two people to be in the same space, but small enough that it still felt homely.
“Sorry,” you mumbled under your breath. “I just don't think I've ever seen you cook before.”
“You wound me, princess. I can cook just as well as the next guy.” You couldn't help but snort at the comment, his dramatics as usual keeping you on your toes.
“I didn't think you couldn't, I've just never seen you do it.” He turns to face you with an almost serious expression.
“I can take me and my cooking somewhere else if you don't want it.” He could pass for being honest, if it wasn't for the smirk crawling up his lips.
“Yeah okay, and where would you go? To Thomas?”
“Ew,” he stuck his tongue out like the name was bitter. “Absolutely not. I am a chef of the highest caliber. This meal needs a refined palate, and Thomas certainly does not have one.”
You couldn't take it anymore and began laughing. It was a whole laugh, one that came from your stomach and made it hurt. It echoed around the room, making Rafayel stop in his tracks and stare. The look he gave you when you weren't looking was one of pure adoration. Hearing you laugh was a joy he held onto in a vice grip, it lit up everyone who heard it. Like you were a small sun that entered into every room with the purpose of bringing happiness to everyone. He watched you for a moment longer before turning back to the stove.
“I hope you're hungry.” He brought over a plate with mixed greens and a salmon placed on top. The salmon smelled like lemon and clearly had been marinated in something. Your stomach did the talking for you, rumbling loud enough that even Rafayel heard it from the other side of the island. You looked down at the food, refusing to even look at him as a chuckle left his lips.
“Eat up before it gets cold.” Rafayel said, pushing the plate closer to you. You grabbed the fork he offered you and dug in. The salmon fell apart easily, and as soon as the flavor touched your tongue you couldn't help but groan. It was rich with the sweetness of the lemon juice and moistened with some sort of wine that you didn't care to identify. Mixed with the vinaigrette that Rafayel had used to dress the salad, it was a perfect dinner. You and Rafayel ate in almost perfect silence, minus the groans and thank you's. After the pair of you were done eating, you grabbed your plate and moved to grab his when he quickly scowled at you then grabbed yours.
“We still need to take care of your hands, you're not doing dishes.” He grabbed his own, rinsed off each dish and threw them in the dishwasher before drying his hands and looking under your sink. He pulled the first aid kit before moving you to the couch and sitting down across from you.
“We already did this at the training grounds.” You grumbled.
“You also took a shower and got the bandages wet, they need to be changed.” Rafayel took your right hand and began unwrapping the bandages. You grimaced as you realized they were still damp and were clinging to your skin. As the rest of the bandages came off, your knuckles began to leak the smallest amount of blood, parts had scabbed over but there were still some open sections. You watched as Rafayel took a cotton pad and soaked it with antiseptic and started dabbing the open wounds. Your teeth ground together as the liquid bubbled in each wound.
“Breathe cutie, it'll help.” His movements were slow and methodical, elegant even as he switched out for a new cotton pad. You watched his face rather than what he was doing, he had a perfect mask of calm aside from his brows being slightly scrunched together. You could tell the gears in his head was turning over and over, but he refused to say anything.
“Rafayel, are you okay?” The question seemed to offend him with the look he gave you.
“Am I okay? That's the question you want to ask me while I'm cleaning your bloody knuckles.” He moves his grasp to your wrist and nuzzled his cheek into your palm. “Of course I'm not okay. You hurt yourself because you couldn't handle your emotions, you didn't come to me. I thought we were best friends.”
“Then come to me for this stuff, don't do this,” he nips your palm gently. “To yourself. Please.”
The please tightened your throat. “I'm sorry,” your voice cracked and you felt tears sting your eyes. “Raf, I'm so sorry.”
“You have to take better care of yourself, no matter what happens. Especially after what you found out.” He nuzzles into your palm again. “Kindness for yourself is the best thing you can do.”
You just nod and watch as he places a soft kiss against you before moving to wrap your hand back up. Your stomach fluttered at the motion, he'd never done something so intimate to you before. Your friendship had always been lighthearted, inside jokes and battles you took on together. But this, he'd never so much as held your hand let alone kiss your forehead. Somehow, him kissing your palm almost seemed worse. You kept your eyes down as he removed the bandages on your left. Neither of you said anything as he continued to clean each knuckle with a gentleness that you didn't want to look into. When he was done with your left hand, he set it against your thigh and leaned forward. You backed up the slightest bit and finally looked him in the eyes.
They reminded you of the sunset, when you could see the stars on the surface of the water as the pinks and purples from the sky faded. Truly, you'd always loved looking in his eyes, and he knew that and would tease you relentlessly about it. He wasn't teasing this time, a primal fire burned in his eyes as he watched you.
“Get some sleep. And call out of work tomorrow. I'll come back in the morning.” He quickly stood up and moved to put the first aid kit away. He threw his cardigan back on and looked at you one more time. “It will all be okay, cutie. I promise.”
He walked out the door without another word, his absence left you reeling. He'd kissed your palm without a second thought. He'd treated you like you were fragile, like you were precious. You shook that thought from your head, no he was just worried, that's all. You had to keep telling yourself that as your brain began to focus more and more on the kiss to your palm. You stood up from the couch and made your way to bed, you just needed sleep. That's all.
Rafayel had made his home in The Nest for the night. Talking to people with no real intention other than to find some information. He was good, very good, at getting the information he wanted without having to pay the usual price. Some acting here and there helped him go a long way, and of course because of his infamy as an artist, some promised pieces and autographs got him what he needed. The location of your ex was surprisingly remote, he wondered if the man was paranoid or just a recluse.
He'd made his way into the living room of his house and took a seat on a chair facing the front door. Classic movie villain thing to do, but Rafayel was definitely one for the theatrics. And quite frankly, he'd wanted to see your ex squirm under the scrutiny of someone who knew what he did, but didn't know Rafayel in return. As Rafayel waited, his anger continued to rise. He played back every second he'd been with you. Watching your knuckles bleed, watching you cry, everything said and done between the pair of you. He thought about the kiss he'd placed on your palm, a rare show of how much he truly cared for you. You'd learn after everything was taken care of, he'd promised that to himself and you silently.
The sound of the door lock jiggling had him snapping out of his train of thought. He waited like a killer whale biding its time for its prey to tire out. When the door finally opened and your ex walked through the door, Rafayels Evol gladly shut the door behind him with a wave of flames covering the escape route.
“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” He'd asked, Rafayel only grinned.
“Take a seat, I want to have a little chat with you.” Rafayel's voice was low and danger laced every word. The man's spine was straight and still, he knew he was done for. Rafayel waited patiently for the man to move and sit on the couch across from him, when he finally settled he spoke.
“What's this about? I didn't do anything to warrant a creepy ass home visit.”
“Didn't do anything?” The growl in his voice was feral. “Let me ask you, if a woman says no to something, does pushing them till they give in make it okay?”
The man's eyes widened for a moment, then he snarled at Rafayel. “Is that what this is about? Did that bitch open her mouth about…”
The sting on Rafayel's hand was little in comparison to his burning rage. Sounds of your ex rolling on the floor, soothed little. The man hissed as he tried to get up, but Rafayels foot was a powerful force and it was breaking the man's hand. He howled in unabashed pain as Rafayel started applying more and more pressure.
“Don't you dare,” Rafayel hissed. “Call her a bitch for what you did to her.”
A small crack rang around the house, as did the man's scream. Music to Rafayel's ears.
“Now, in my culture,” he crouched down to be closer to the man's face. “We cut off the tails of men who fuck with women. Fortunately for you, you don't have a tail. So I think, I'll take the use of your hands instead.”
A louder crack echoed, and another, and another. Each followed by screams and pleads for mercy. When Rafayel was done, the mangled mess of the man's hands was unsightly, blood started seeping into the hardwood floor after he'd broken the man's right hand. It reminded him of your hands, and the mess you'd made of yourself. His rage burned hotter, his Evol threatening to loosen itself from Rafayels careful grip.
“I'm sorry,” the man cried. “I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I'm sorry.”
“You will be.” Was all Rafayel said as he let his Evol trickle from his feet. The flames crawled towards the man as he tried to crawl away. He watched as the flames began engulfing not only the man, but the house they resided in. They licked at the family pictures and curtains, engulfed desks and TV stands like they were starved for the revenge Rafayel finally allowed. The man abandoned trying to escape, screaming as the flames burned through clothes and flesh. When he stopped moving, Rafayel turned to leave through the side of the house, now fully exposed as the flames ate their way through its existence. Only when the building had finally collapsed and the flames had left nothing but ash and ruin did Rafayel recall his evol. He stood there a moment longer, waiting for the rage in his chest to settle. When it felt like he could breathe again he left, it wasn't until he was at your front door that he'd realized where his feet took him.
He used the key you'd given him and entered the house as quietly as possible, hoping you were asleep. To his relief, you were. Not in your bed, like he thought you would be. But on the couch, encircled by a blanket and his hoodie. He sat on his heels by your sleeping figure, carefully, he moved a strand of hair from your face. Relief swept through him when he saw you sleeping soundly. The knuckle on his pointer finger brushed your cheek with a softness designated only for you.
“You will never have to worry about him, you will never have to worry about anything again. I will make sure of it.”
He moved to sit with his back to the couch and let himself doze until sunlight started coming through the space between the curtains.
When you finally woke up, the smell of breakfast made your stomach awaken. You groaned, and slowly sat up, using the blanket as a makeshift cape as you made your way to the kitchen. Rafayel stood there with a pan of eggs that he was plating as you walked in.
“What are you doing here?” You asked with a yawn and he just grinned at you.
“I told you that I'd be back in the morning. It's morning.” He chuckled as another yawn escaped you.
“Too early.” You whimpered as you sat at the island again and leaned your head against the counter. You were exhausted still, this time it was bone deep and honestly you had to thank Rafayel for telling you to take the day off because truly you didn't think you'd be able to take being at the Hunters Association today. Rafayel poked your cheek with a grin and as soon as you sat up he set down a plate piled with eggs, bacon and pancakes. Your eyes were lazy with sleep but clear thankfulness shone through when you looked at Rafayel.
“Thank you, Raf. I appreciate it greatly.” He smiled and ruffled your hair.
“Eat up, you can sleep more after if you want to.” He sat down next to you and began picking at his own plate. You drowned your pancakes in syrup and ate like it was the last meal you were going to get, Rafayel watched your every move. He watched for any signs of pain or discomfort and truly he'd found none, just you being your usual grumpy self in the mornings. You realized he was watching you and poked his cheek, indenting his cheek so much you could have sworn it should have hurt.
“Your staring, Raf.” You pushed his face away and down so he was looking at his food. He shrugged and began eating. When you both were done he leaned over to swipe your plate, you froze. The unmistakable scent of fire and mixed perfumes lingered on him, your nostrils flared at the abhorrent smell. “Did you…You need a shower.”
Rafayels shoulders tensed, “Well that's a nice way to say I stink.”
His chuckle felt forced and his shoulders were practically to his ears. Your eyes narrowed. “Rafayel, what did you do last night?”
The silence that followed as he rinsed the dishes off and put them in the dishwasher was less than ideal. It made you itch, like the tension in the room surrounded you like a blanket of flies. You watched him as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, as if debating on the answer he was going to give you. You let out a huff and stand up from your stool, he watches you as you disappear from the room. He looks down at the floor, his mind going back and forth with what he should and shouldn't tell you. When he's hit with a towel, his eyes snap up to look at you.
“Go shower, you smell like shit.” The words were harsh, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Truth be told you didn't have the want to, you were tired and frustrated with yourself and with him. You moved to the couch and laid down on it, still wrapped in the blanket you closed your eyes and waited. Rafayel didn't move for a minute before you heard his feet pad to your bathroom and the water began running.
You waited till you knew the coast was clear and pulled your phone out. Most of what you did was mindless scrolling, you answered a couple texts, mainly from Jena and Tara. Xavier had texted you to make sure you were okay, but you couldn't find it in yourself to answer him either. It shouldn't bug you as much as it did, that Rafayel came over smelling like that. His Evol is fire, of course he smelled like a camp fire. It was the perfume that bugged you immensely. He wasn't the type to have people surrounding him, especially females. You knew that, so why did it bug you? You wanted to chastise yourself, you'd just broken up with your ex, and yet what Rafayel was doing was more important. You felt incredibly guilty, and it was eating at you. And you let it.
As you let your mind spiral, slowly your phone became less than significant and you began drifting in and out of consciousness. You were so tired, emotionally and physically. All you wanted was the sleep your body seemed to be lacking despite sleeping through the night. Slowly you began drifting further and further away from reality, until you heard the shower stop. After a long minute of silence, the bathroom door freaked open and Rafayel's footsteps padded through your home. They paused at the threshold of your bedroom door and the living room, before softly making their way in front of you. The silence was tangible as you waited.
The sound of his knees hitting the floor seemed to pull you closer to consciousness than you had been previously. What truly woke you, was the heat of his hand moving hair from in front of your face, resting on your cheek momentarily. You took a deep breath and slowly brought your hand to his, nuzzling into his palm before slowly opening your eyes to meet his soft purple hues.
“Rafayel…” your voice was soft, sweetened by bone deep tiredness. “What happened this morning?”
He watched you a moment, before moving his free hand to cradle your face, his thumb drawing soft paths across your cheek bones.
“I will tell you, it is within your right to know what happened. But, I need you to know something important.” His voice dropped low, the playfulness from earlier gone. “What happened this morning had nothing to do with you not being adequate enough, you are more than enough, do enough. It is more to do with my desire to ensure that you are safe and happy. I will always be honest with you, but I need to know that you are ready to hear the answer.”
You couldn't help the feeling of warmth as the words came from his mouth, but the stomach sinking feeling from the answer, or rather lack there of, sat too close. Suddenly, you were afraid to hear the answer. So you shook your head and laid it back down.
“Not right now.” Your eyes closed again, sleep pulling you further and further from the truth you could have had.
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This is gonna be a two part story but I hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know what you think and as usual feedback would be lovely.
