#andrew

Rafayel's always been a romantic. You wrongly assumed he wanted to protect his identity as a celebrity. Shame settles in your chest.

You intertwine fingers, and he lowers himself. "I assumed you wanted a low profile." You gravitate upwards. Foreheads touching, you breathe out, "I'm sorry, Rafayel. Thank you for telling me."

"I couldn't wait any longer to bring this up." He looks down. "It's been eating at me."

You plant a kiss on your lips, and he returns your exchange.

"Don't wait until it bothers you next time, okay?" Now the wave of determination thrums inside your chest.

His gaze sweeps both your eyes, "Okay."

You slip away from his grasp and hold up a pinky. "Promise?"

Rafayel slides his pinky and kisses your knuckles. "Promise."

~

"Rafayel, the artist? No way! You're dating him?" Tara's eyes expand like saucers. She gasps, slightly hitting her hand on the way up. Her beer can shifts the picnic table. The sun is warm, and a breeze billows through the park.

"Uhhh, the guy's gotta be old as ashes." Nero states. You two lock eyes, his immediately embarrassed. "For someone as famous as him?" Nero explains.

Tara slaps his shoulder. Simone coughs, and Andrew orders another round to fill in the space. "No, you dummy. My grandmother's a huuuuge fan. She's been to every exhibit."

Tara pulls out her phone and taps a few keys.

"I thought the same at first too," Tara admits shamelessly, and you laugh to ease up the tension. Simone shakes her head but relaxes. Andrew chuckles.

"But look, he's pretty young." She sweeps her phone for everyone to see. It's a snapshot from the most recent exhibit. He looks... intimidating, formal, kind of standoffish.

Andrew whistles, "A real pretty boy over there." Simone lights up, a sparkle electric in her eyes. She sends you a proud look. You know she, Tara, and you will debrief in waaay more detail later.

Nero exclaims, shifting his glasses, "I refuse to believe the genetic lottery achieved this."

You laugh. "He's fun. Sweet." you say, feeling out of place describing Rafayel to people who don't know him. "We met young, he taught a couple lessons in university, and I reconnected with him for work purposes."

"Does he like karaoke?" Tara asks, plucking a couple grapes from the communal fruit platter.

"Does he drink?" Andrew probes.

"Will we ever get to meet him?" Simone completes.

"Does he game?" Nero asks, the only question that throws you off.

"I'm not sure, but he can sing. He'll drink. And surprisingly, yeah I've caught him staying up late once or twice playing a shooter." You make your rounds. "I'll invite him when it makes sense. Something easy."

"My birthday's soon, invite's open." Simone offers, like an angel of hope.

"The more the merrier," Tara concludes, "House party, bar hop, karaoke, and see where the night takes us."

"But, all of that to say, I can't make the summer camping trip. We're going on... vacation." You think back to his burning desire for the tropics.

"Ooooh, well take photos!" Tara exclaims, and the topic shifts. The group cheers, and you promise to make it up to them on their next trip.

-

"Ready?" Rafayel emerges from his closet. A baseball cap, compression turtleneck, jacket, jeans, sneakers.

"Yeah, wow, it's been a while since you pulled those out." A blush creeps up. You fight it. As beautiful as Rafayel looks in formalwear, he looks like an undercover idol in streetwear.

Early on in your relationship, the both of you worried about unwanted attention in busy areas. Now your dates were more elaborate, or in spaces where people knew him.

He frowns. "That just means we need another city date. Soon. I miss-" He's not bold enough to tell you that sneaking around the city like lovesick teenagers still makes his heart thump.

"Me too," you say, smiling to fill in his embarrassment. "I've been having fun though."

"Not too stuffy? Too many balls, charity events?"

"Mmmm-" You walk up and fix his jacket, "I could use some air at a night market." Rafayel grins, catlike, and kisses you.

"Next weekend then," and you nod.

He unlocks the car door and the two of you speed down to Simone's house, park a couple streets away. Simone's not home yet, everyone's setting up an early surprise for when she gets home.

You knock, Tara opens Simone's door and exclaims in greeting. Rafayel offers a soft hi. You two hug, and Tara whispers. This is him?!

You whisper back, Yes! Let me introduce you.Tara leans back and gestures the both of you in.

You intertwine fingers with Rafayel. He glances down, delighted, before the surprise can show on his face.

"She made it, guys!" Tara cheers, handing over some unblown balloons.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." You portion half out, smiling.

"This is Rafayel, my boyfriend."

And it feels unreal to say. He presses your palms deeper, and you swipe one thumb down his index finger.

"Hey boyfriend," Andrew greets, and Simone slaps his shoulder.

Rafayel laughs, "Hey, nice to meet you." He sits right down on the carpet and begins blowing up balloons. You sit next to him. The door handle jingles 20 minutes later, and you all snap a candid photo of her shock from a crowd yelling Surprise!

The rest of the night...

Does not go how you expect.

Rafayel shoots the shit too well with Andrew, whose refined interests emerge, almost flourish. You all thought he was a Bro™, but Simone groans when they start talking about the tea market. When the group migrates to the bar, they're still talking, just about bets, gambling, watches, economy, and wine.

Nero's a bit quieter, but later when the entire group is drunk and you all stumble to the 24 hour arcade, you find him and Nero in a shoot off. Rafayel's precise, despite appearances. Him and Nero swap techniques, upping the ante and nerd out over retro, vintage videos games.

Within all of this, you're in the booths huddled and giggly with Tara and Simone. Every so often, Rafayel would swing by and shamelessly plant a kiss to check in. He's so drunk, you think, patting his cheek. You'd wave him off, letting him know you're fine. Tara and Simone would look away, continuing their topic before you join back in.

"He fits in," Simone smiles.

Tara's still squealing from his, "I told you, the more, the merrier."

"Yeah, I'm shocked," you comment, sipping away. "Was Andrew always into..."

"High society stuff?" Simone responds, "Yeah, he's on the forums, dragging me to these events and all."

"Sounds like we have another couple in the making," Tara conspires, with her classic, bright grin.

"Ugh, let's not talk about that tonight," Simone pushes her. Tara feints hurt, rests her head on your shoulders.

"Thanks for inviting him, he's a good guy," Tara says, and you can't help but melt. She always knows the right thing to say. "You don't really open up about your dating life."

"Mmm," is all you say, gearing up for next girly, sentimental topic since it's about you. "I'm serious about him."

Now it's Simone who pats her own cheek, as if to drain the alcohol away. "That's too cute, stoppp." Okay, the alcohol is really settling in her system now.

You hear Rafayel bust out in laughter and Nero's got his hands on his knees. No way, Rafayel pulled Nero into Dance Dance Revolution.

Before any more can be said, someone rounds the whole group up for a table hockey tournament, then bowling, then hoops, absolutely sloshed. It's 4am when Simone gives her birthday speech, rounds everyone up for a group hug. People begin trickling home.

"It was great meeting you all," Rafayel hugs everyone. Andrew's set up a date with Rafayel for a grand tea exhibit, and exchanges usernames with Nero.

"See you!" Tara waves, Simone drunkenly waves, hanging onto her shoulder. Nobody would expect it, but Tara's capacity to hold alcohol is military level.

~

When it's quiet and the both of you are rummaging through your fridge for pre-hangover aids, Rafayel leans against the counter. You hand him a glass. He's in sleepwear, so are you.

"That was fun," you say.

"I like them," he responds, before sweeping you in by your waist. Both your breaths are stained with vodka. It's fine. "Thank you," he says, before hugging you.

"Of course," you say, cupping his cheek.

"I've always wanted to be a part of your life." You lean back and he sets the glass down for you.

You lean back, "You're my most important person." You start getting a sense of how important this was for him. To have the people in your life acknowledge him as a fixture. Real stakes, not someone you mention in passing. God forbid, an afterthought, if things didn't go well.

You think about how meeting Aunt Talia felt like taking one step closer to becoming his family. You think back to taking in his Lemurian form. Sometimes, you'll wake up to Rafayel gazing at you, caressing your hair. He looks at you like... like...

"Mine too," he nuzzles your neck, words settled with heavy thoughts and unspoken labels.

Your thoughts fizzle out.

Rafayel kisses your neck. Deep in his bones, he's drunk off the thought of marrying you, asking you to be his wife.