The Line - Rafayel🐠 (part 1?)
There was always a line. One he wasn’t ready to cross. Didn’t know how, didn’t want to cross. Or maybe he was lying to himself, wanted to cross it, but was afraid of the consequences. What would change? Was it worth the risk? The reward? But there he was, sat across the coffee table from her on the plush carpet, a half empty bottle of bottom shelf tequila and two empty glasses between them.
He never meant to stay there that long, he just dropped by to check in. Knowing she had a long and exhausting week at work. The door was unlocked when he made it to her apartment, unusual for her. He knocked and announced himself, and was greeted with silence. The apartment was dimly lit, only one band of golden light streaming from the living room. He found her there sat on the floor, frame hunched over her laptop and multiple case files, her fingers threaded through her hair. Waterbottle forgotten and replaced with the bottle of tequila.
“Kat?” He stepped closer.
“Come in,” she didn’t look up from the pile of paperwork.
He approached her slowly, worried it wasn't a good time for him to be there. He sat across from her. Before he could say or ask her anything, she looked up with a sigh, stacking the papers and closed the laptop, gently tossing it to the couch behind her. She leaned back against it.
“Care for a drink?” she didn’t wait for his response before pouring a glass for him, and another for herself, before downing it and pouring again.
“Kat?” He asked again, his brows furrowed with concern. She shook her head.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She loosed another long sigh and met his gaze. “No more work. Just.. be here with me, please Raf, have a drink.” She gestured limply to his glass and offered a lazy smile that didn’t light up her face like was used to seeing.
He eyed her carefully but reached for his glass and took a sip, she finished hers.
“Your door was unlocked,” he stated, unsure of what to say.
“Was it?” She asked carelessly and poured another drink. When he finished, she poured another one for him. Then another. And another.
Talk became casual, the tension in her forehead loosened, he relaxed, they laughed together, as they always did.
Her laugh. Oh how he loved the sound, warm and unguarded, it made his chest ache, reminding him of everything hasn’t told her. Everything he wished he could. He watched her, head tilted as if admiring a great painting in a museum, from across the couch, legs tangled in the throw blanket he gifted her for ‘no reason’, her head tipped back in giddy exhaustion. And somewhere between her fourth or fifth toast (“to not getting vaporized this week!”) and a half-slurred rant about mission briefings and “stupid wanderers”, he said it.
It slipped, quietly, his eyes widened. Maybe she didn’t hear.
She blinked at him, fuzzy and confused. Her brows furrowed, she straightened slightly. “What?”
He froze, looked away, cheeks flushed soft rose. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
She leaned closer across the teakwood table, her glass long forgotten. “You definitely said something,” she giggled, squinting at him, “Wait, did you say you love me?”
He hesitated before facing her, face burning, he nodded, “yeah.” His voice came out weaker than he had intended.
She leaned back against the couch with another laugh, head resting against the plush cushion. “That's sweet, Raf.”
He watched as her eyelids drooped, before closing, eyelashes casting delicate shadows over her cheekbones. He sat there for a long moment after, watching her breathing even out, the bottle of tequila glinting under the soft light. He was in shock, at what he had confessed, at her cryptic response, how she fell asleep after. He shook his head with a sigh before standing and moving to cradle her in his arms. He carried her tight to his chest, like she was precious before laying her down on her bed and tucking her underneath the covers. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment just watching her sleeping form. Her cheeks rosy from the alcohol. He scanned her face for any discomfort or lingering stress from the day. There was none. He sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, cradling it gently. He leaned in, ghosting his lips over her temple.
“I meant what I said, Kataea.” He whispered against her skin before pulling away and walking towards the door.
He looked back, only for a fleeting moment, taking in her peaceful form one more time, eyes softening. She wouldn’t remember anything said that night, he knew that. In some ways he was relieved, in others disappointed. He pushed it all down, forcing his feelings back down as he finally stepped out of her apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.
The call came from Thomas, of all of the people who could have told him, it had to be him.
“She went out again,” he said, voice laced with concern. “With some lower-rank Hunters. Bar in South Sector. She didn’t check out properly. You didn’t know?”
Rafayel’s chest went cold, jaw clenching. “No.”
No one had told him she was drinking again. No one had told him she was spiraling again. He left without saying anything else.
It didn’t take him long to find the bar. He hardly made sure his car was parked before stepping out into the cool night rain. He found her quickly, sitting alone on a bench outside the bar under the blinding neon lights, illuminating her face in greens and yellows. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, smiling softly as the rain glittered over her lightly tanned skin. Her hair damp and plastered to her face from the moisture.
She didn’t notice him at first, humming along to a random song that was playing from inside the bar, absentmindedly twirling her glass of a pink-purple liquid.
He stepped closer to her, the heels of his dress shoes clicked against the pavement. She blinked, head turning towards the sound. Smiling lazily as she recognized him.
“Oh hey Raf, whater you doing here?” She slurred.
“I should be asking you that.” He said a little too sharply. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
She shrugged, tilting her head back to the dreary sky. “Didn’t feel like it.”
Her words shouldn’t have felt like a blow. He exhaled slowly, carefully, stepping closer. “Are you okay?” A question he already knew the answer to.
She shrugged again, winced, as if the motion made her dizzy, eyes still trained on the black sky and silver rain. The liquid in her glass sloshed. “Just needed to forget for a while.”
Her words, another blow. “Forget what?” He asked, though he felt he already knew the answer to that too.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” She smiled weakly.
“I would actually.” He stated, gently.
She didn’t answer right away, just looked at him, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, but he didn’t know that. The rain drizzled around them, the only sound of it hitting the metal room of the bar and the occasional passing car.
The neon sign cast shadows over her face, but he still thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.He felt his chest tighten with something like regret, or worse, longing.
Finally, she broke the silence. “I had a funny dream the other night.. You said you loved me.” She paused looking down at her glass, giggled and raised it. “Hey! My drink matches your eyes!”
She stood and took an unsteady step towards him and nearly tripped. He caught her before she could even begin to fall. Her eyes met his and she smiled. A real smile. He forgot what that looked like. And she was beautiful.
She hummed, “can you imagine that? You? Loving me? What a nice dream.”
She rested her head against his chest, breathing him in. He held her gently, but firmly.
“Yes,” he whispered, almost inaudible against her hair.. “I can.. I do”
But her eyes were already drooping again, his scent and the patter of the rain lulling her to sleep as she stood in his embrace, arms loose around his waist, breath warm against his collarbone.
He held her a little tighter, breathing in her scent, apple blossom and jasmine and rain. He decided, as he cradled her against him, that he would tell her. When she was sober, no matter the consequences it may have.
She may not remember it this time. But the next, he never wanted her to forget, no matter what came after.
He scooped her up in his strong arms and carried her to his car, gently sitting her in the passenger seat and buckled her in. He moved over to the driver's side and turned on the car with a soft hum. Before driving off, he took in her sleeping form, peaceful as always. How could someone be so beautiful even in sleep? He leaned over the center console and whispered against her hair, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “let's get you home, my love.”
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A/N: Hiii, so I've had this one written for a while I just haven't posted it lol. But now that I haveeee, would you want a part 2??
