#sweet devotion

He is always so attentive when it comes to you. So attuned with every fibre of your being, that it’s uncanny how he clocks on to something long before you even realise you’re doing it. It’s one of his many, many qualities. You don’t even remember your feet coming to a halt or that you had even started staring off into the distance. But Rafayel notices. He notices everything, always attuned to your mind, body, and soul.

Eyes averting from looking ahead, you turn to face him properly, eyes sparkling with mirth. “The cupcakes do look fun, right?”

Before he even bothers to offer an answer of reciprocation, he leads the way, tugging you along with him in long strides; you have to take the extra few steps to catch up! Before you know it, you’re in the line, gazes eagerly watching other people already in their designated cars – oops, correction: cupcakes. Spinning, bumper cupcakes, to be more precise.

“I don’t get it. Why do you want to spin and bump into strangers?” Rafayel asks, his iridescent eyes narrowing at his observations before sneaking a little glance at you. You beam up at him, smile bright and warm. All you can offer is a shrug. He drops your hand but only long enough to slide an arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him. “Humans are weird.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you huff out a puff of protest. “You’ll understand the fun soon enough!” You promise, basking in the comfort his warmth brings as your arms snake around his frame, leaning up to press a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. “Do you trust me?" You ask, slapping on your finest (and cutest) puppy-dog-eyed look, batting your eyelashes at him.

His response is instantaneous. Automatic. “You know it, cutie.” Rafayel smiles, flashing you a cheeky wink.

The wait isn’t much longer. Before you know it, the ride stops. People hop out, laughing with their partners, playfully jibing with each other while animatedly discussing their next plans. Like clockwork, as the previous players exit the ride, the gates finally unlock (finally, you think as if you’ve been waiting for ages. You haven’t.) and the next round of people start filtering through. The two of you included. While you’re trying to decide which cupcake to hop into, your boyfriend’s eyes focus on nothing but you.

“Choose your fighter. I call dibs on the pink one over there!” You declare, gesturing emphatically and sticking your tongue out at him before you sprint over to the pretty (as bumper cupcakes can be, that is), pastel pink cupcake with dozens of sprinkles. One hand reaches for the car door, but another, much larger hand beats you to the punch, leaving yours suspended in mid-air as he yanks it open. Brows furrow as you look at the culprit, only to see Rafayel grinning back at you. “What are you doing?” you ask in exasperation, feebly attempting to swat his hand away.

This only eggs him on more, grip tightening as he leans his side against the base of the cupcake. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he fires back with a feigned gasp, like it was obvious, as though you were the one being obtuse! How dare he try to claim your cupcake?! You called dibs first! There are plenty of others to choose from!

“This is mine, dummy! Get your own cupcake.”

“Nope. This is our cupcake now.”

You scowl at him. If looks could kill, he would be on the floor by now. You were so looking forward to whooping his ass. He only matches your expression with one of his own, one that looks absolutely ridiculous at him. The two of you stand there, glaring at each other for all of five, maybe ten, seconds before you both burst into laughter. He stops laughing first (barely), seizing the opportunity to claim his turn for his best impression of the puppy-eyed look.

“Pretty please, Miss Bodyguard. I need you to protect me from these vultures.”

As if you ever need any convincing.

Even still, he continues to persist. “Besides,” he adds then, jutting his lower lip in the most adorable little pout. “I would miss you too much.”

And if you were not convinced before, you absolutely were now. How could you refuse when he is saying the cutest things? For a second, you close your eyes, inhaling a heavy breath as though genuinely torn with indecision. Then you open them, looking up at the pink frosting with sprinkles that towers above, attached to the metal bar at the back of the car that links to the arena ceiling.

“Ugh, fine. Pain in the ass, light of my life, get in the damn cupcake, will you?” You exhale a mock sigh of frustration, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You know you love me.” Rafayel drawls, poking your nose as he hops into the cart. Instead of sitting down straight away, he extends his hand out to you, helping you come inside.

“Mm, indeed I do.” You can’t help but smile affectionately, fingers soon clasping around his as you lift one leg into the cupcake base. Then the other.

The seats are too small; the safety bar is tight, pressing your thighs. If you were struggling, then he was even worse. It takes a bit of wriggling, but you make things work. Both of you press against each other. He lifts the seatbelt over you and clicks it in place before he does the same for his own. He wriggles like a fish out of water, attempting to get comfortable. To try and make life that bit easier for the two of you, he stretches out one arm, wrapping it around your shoulders. Probably not the best idea, considering what was about to go down, but it worked. You made it work.

“Let’s keep this casual, yeah? Once it starts spinning, just steer us to a place with fewer people.”

You shoot him a perplexed look – one that basically says: are you mad? Considering he knows so much about different things – cultures, how people live in various countries, languages, art, and music – you'd imagine he would have an understanding of the basic concept of fairground rides. Or maybe not? Given how many rides are in the air or about the thrill… As someone afraid of heights, he may simply not see why people love these rides so much. 

Perhaps it's another learning opportunity, you wonder. For him to experience life as humans do. He’s taught you so much during your relationship, and of course, you've shared plenty with him. Maybe this is another lesson you could give him. You’re happy to show him anything he's curious about.

“But that’s only half of the fun,” you protest. “We shouldn’t let the experience go to waste!”

“How’s it only half?” His question is sincere, though his expression remains unconvinced.

“We’re in spinning bumper cake cups.” Wow, aren’t you stating the obvious? You let out a soft laugh, with one hand on the steering wheel and your foot on the accelerator, ready when the arena comes alive. You watch as the operator circles the arena, ensuring everyone's safety first. Meanwhile, your eyes scan the scene around you – spirals of colour and chaos about to erupt. The arena, along with other stationary cupcake rides, waits patiently for the signal before launching into action. “Why are we only spinning and not spinning and bumping?”

And you’re off! Ding ding ding! The cupcake whirls, shudders, spins into motion, and within seconds, Rafayel is already nudging against you. You panic, scrambling to spin the wheel and jamming your foot against the accelerator to try and push it into action. Instead, it just keeps spinning. And spinning…and spinning… and spinning…

The sound of your favourite laugh echoes in your ears. Despite the loud music and the crash, crash, crash of cakes against other cakes, the loudest noise of all comes from him. He’s nearly hysterical as the pair of you spin in circles rather than trying to move forward, backward, diagonal – whatever god-forsaken direction you could try. If you could.

“It’s okay to miss out on stuff sometimes, cutie…” he jests, snickering with utmost amusement as you try to gain control over this damn vehicle.

“Don’t worry. The Hunters Association gave me the best training a Hunter can get. We’ll survive.” You don’t know who you are trying to convince more: you or him. You nod with conviction, rapping a hand against your chest with pseudo-confidence. “I’ve got this.”

Much to your dismay… You do not, in fact, have this.

Rafayel tries to help in a way that’s not helpful at all. He’s giggling the whole time, which makes you only laugh too, despite your panicked struggle to assert a modicum of control over this stupid ass cupcake. He tightens his grip around your shoulders and tries to lean more against you. Tries to place his hands on top of yours, as if that would make any difference.

“I thought the quote was meant to be ‘just keep swimming.’ Not just keep spinning,” he goads in your ear. To which you respond with a firm elbow jabbing his side, though you can’t help the giggles that leave your lips.

“Shut up!”

The playful jests continue. Someone crashes their cupcake into you, sending your cupcake gliding across the arena. Finally, some movement that wasn’t just constantly rotating like a rotisserie chicken. Well, until you try to steer it again. Only to start whirling around in circles again.

Rafayel’s breath fans against your ear. Hot, warm, teasing. “Did you know? Spinning really fast makes you dizzy.”

“Did you know? Eating food makes you full.” You laugh, despite the slight bite in your tone. It isn’t directed at him specifically. But you were evidently frustrated, and seeing as you couldn’t take said frustrations out on anyone else, he was in your line of fire. A centrifugal force throws you against him, and you giggle as another crash into the vehicle sends the pair of you veering off once again, knocking you off course.

Despite your frustration, you’re grinning from ear to ear. You can’t do much else because the stupid cupcake keeps spinning on and on and on and on. So, you turn to look at Rafayel. Your smile soon fades a little as you notice his expression. The bright smile is still etched on his lips, but it wavers. Violet strands of hair stick up in all directions, and his skin is a shade or two paler. His pupils become slightly unfocused.

“Wait… Rafayel, are you okay?” Concern flickers across your face as your eyes roam over him, assessing him as if you were his physician.

“Yup, right as rain,” he chirps back, his voice thin and unconvincing. Your eyebrows shoot up sceptically.

“You already sound a bit off…”

You stop trying to gain momentum of the evil incarnate in this stupid cupcake. What is the point anyway? All it does is spin and spin and spin. Your attention redirects to your love, a hand reaching for his cheek. He’s warm. Rafayel nuzzles against your touch, humming in contentment.

“I’m fineeeee.”

“If you’re going to throw up, can you face the other way? These are new jeans.”

He laughs. That’s good, at least. “I’m not going to throw up.” The smile is there again. The world whirls by, a mixture of neon lights mixed with pastel frosting and all the people along with it. But here? Here, it’s just you and him. In your own little world, in your own little cupcake, your little bubble. Everything is whizzing by, and yet your focus on him is sharp and clear. High definition right there in front of you.

“You look like you’re about to pass out!” You say, voice laced with worry, and yet you still can’t help the little giggles leaving your mouth.

“Cutie,” he elongates the last syllable, one deft finger under your chin, tilting your head back slightly so he can look into your eyes. “I refuse to pass out in something that resembles a dessert! Imagine how humiliating that would be. I have a rep to protect, you know.” He leans in closer. “Though… I have an idea of one way you could make me feel better…” he trails off, mischief twinkling in his coruscating eyes as his attention flickers from your face to your lips.

Is he really doing this right now?

With that came a sudden crash into your cake, his body knocking into yours. His forehead just about stops colliding with yours. Finally – finally! – You manage to gain control of the cart, managing to steer it just enough to swerve away from the last person before the next slam. Breathless and amazed that you somehow finally managed to grasp the hang of it, it all lasts about twenty seconds max before the cupcake vehicle starts slowing down, screeching along the floors before it comes to a halt.

Frown engraved so deeply across your face, your lips pursed as the ride slows in increments before eventually stopping altogether. Typical! Just as you were getting the hang of it and somehow managed to figure out the controls in the midst of the chaos, you had it ripped out of your hands within seconds. Just fricking typical.

It’s silly, you know it is, but your shoulders slump with defeat, eyes watching as everyone begins to leave their designated cupcakes. Just as you finally figured it out, it came to a stop, and if you wanted to try again, it would be a case of joining the back of the line. As you peered over, it would be a couple of tries before getting that far. Neither of you is the most patient person, so it is better to try and find another ride with smaller queues, or get a snack, play in the arcades or play the games. Or go home, that was an option too. But there is still so much to explore that didn’t really seem like an option. Unless Rafayel really didn’t feel well, that is.

Your knees are still cramped together. You’re lost in thought, mind adrift, but he brings you back to shore soon enough when you feel the seatbelt lift over your head, the metal bars finally starting to ease, allowing you both the opportunity to move again. “Come on, cutie. Up we go.” He stands slowly, and you follow suit. Legs wobbly, you don’t realise how much the ride impacts you until you’re trying to move. Clinging on to each other, you both hold on, trying to steady each other. Hands hovering so close to each other, as though trying to examine each other. Who will pass out first? Who will throw up first? Hopefully, neither of you.

You manage to step off the ride first. Mirroring how he extended his hand out to you to help you onto the ride, you turn the tables; now it’s your turn to help him. He responds in kind, threading his fingers through the spaces between yours. Bringing your knuckles up to his lips, he presses soft kisses along each knuckle, and then the two of you walk hand-in-hand off the ride.

A few minutes later, he asks you, “Everything okay? You seem a bit down.”

“I feel like I should be asking you the same question. You looked unwell on the ride. I should be fussing over you instead of you worrying about me.” Eliciting a soft sigh, you make a victim out of a lone stone, kicking it simply because. “It’s silly,” you add, mumbling under your breath.

Seconds later, he stops walking, tugging your hand gently to coax you to stop wandering off more. “Talk to me, what is it? Is it because we couldn’t get it working until the last minute? You wanna go again?”

You shrug, scrunching your nose up, a little disgruntled. Do you want to go again? Your legs still felt a little like jelly, even a few minutes later. At least you don’t feel ill, you suppose. His lips tug upwards at your simply adorable expression, and with his free hand, he pokes your cheek gently. “If you keep looking like that, your face will get stuck like it,” he teases. You simply pout. He was right, of course, he is right. But it made you feel silly to admit that, so you said nothing at all. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s find somewhere to sit, yeah? I think we can both use the rest after whatever that was. Then we’ll play some arcade games, try to win a prize or two, and, if you feel up to it, we can try again. What do you say, yeah?” He brushes strands of hair that have gotten in your way, tucking them ever so gently behind your ears. It sounds like a solid plan. You nod slowly, giving him a little smile. “Yeah? Cool. Come on, my love. Let’s go.”

So it goes. The hours pass, and you find yourself ever forgetting about the stupid ride in the first instance. In the blink of an eye, the light of the afternoon sun fades as day turns to night. Strolling in no direction in particular, you walk and walk, taking in the sights and basking in the atmosphere. Somewhere along the lines, you find yourself near the stupid bumper cakes again.

“Wait here a sec. I wanna try something,” Rafayel says suddenly. Uncertainty flickers across your face, and he offers you a reassuring smile. “I’ll be a few moments, tops.” Kissing your forehead gently, he pats your head before walking off over to the ride. A few minutes later, he’s waving over at you.

What is he doing? You wonder, but you would be lying if you said you are’t curious. You’re naturally a curious person at best. There is no queue, and his waving gesture becomes faster, the closer and faster you walk over.

“What’s going on?” You ask as you approach.

A slow smirk spreads across Rafayel’s face, a playful twinkle in his mesmerising gaze. You can’t help but mirror the expression with a little smile of your own. You have no idea what to expect, what nonsense (probably) is about to come out of his mouth, but you find yourself excited. He gestures towards the cupcakes scattered along the floor, as if demonstrating a show.

“Choose your fighter,” he taunts, nodding his head over at the vehicles as he echoes your words from hours ago. “This time, it’s me against you. You'd better be prepared, cutie. I won’t hold back.” Rafayel blows a kiss to you, sauntering over to his cake of choice with practised nonchalance. You skip to your choices, ignoring the pink one from earlier because you don’t want it to fail you a second time.

“Oh, you’re so on!” You giggle with excitement, running over to a random one instead of thinking too hard about it, your face lighting up like a child on Christmas Day.

Of course, it is so like him to do anything to make you happy. A few words exchanged with the operator, and suddenly, the area belonged to the two of you for as long as you wanted. For as long as you could withstand, that is.

Always like him to encourage you to indulge your whimsy. He’s the person to bring it out in you, after all. the weird and the wonderful. Oh, how you adore him for it.