(Rafael can't bear to be apart from his recently deceased partner)
Rafael starts taking the medication almost immediately after that first vivid dream.
Not for sleep. Not entirely.
For you.
He lies down each night, swallows the tiny pill, and drifts into a world where you still exist, where your laughter still fills the room, where your hand fits perfectly in his.
The days blur. Court filings pile up. Files wait on his desk. Cases go cold. Emails go unanswered.
“Rafael,” Olivia says one evening, leaning against the doorframe of his apartment. “You can’t keep doing this.”
“I am doing it,” he replies softly, eyes half-lidded, gaze already distant. “I’m with her.”
Olivia steps closer. “You’re not. She’s...she’s gone. You can’t live in dreams.”
“I can,” he whispers. “She’s here. See?”
“You’re disappearing,” Olivia interrupts, voice low and sharp. “You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. You’re not even showing up for the office. You’re letting yourself vanish for a dream!”
Rafael doesn’t hear her.
Because the dream calls him.
Night after night, he drifts into that perfect memory. He watches you move through the kitchen. He hears the soft echo of your voice. The warmth in his chest drowns out everything else.
The medication helps him sleep, yes, but it also begins to hollow him. He starts missing days. Weeks. Cases that should matter slip through his fingers. Olivia grows more worried, even more desperate.
And still, when he dreams of you, he can’t bring himself to leave.
One night, the dream changes.
You stand in front of him, hands pressed to his chest. Your hair falls over your shoulders, light catching it in a way only he remembers.
“Rafi,” you say softly, almost pleading. “You have to take care of yourself.”
He shakes his head, voice thick. “I can’t. Not when I can see you. Not when I can touch you. Not when I...”
“You’re hurting yourself,” you interrupt, voice steady now, insistent. “You’re not here. You’re not in the world. You’re losing yourself to the dreams. Please. You have to wake up. You have to live. You can’t just… keep waiting for me here.”
He tries to argue. He wants to argue. But the weight of your presence, of your worry, presses down on him. His chest tightens. His hands curl into fists.
“I can’t,” he whispers, tears spilling down his face even as the dream world bends around him. “I just can’t.”
You reach out. For one fleeting moment, he wants to take your hand. But he doesn’t. He can’t.
And the dream begins to slip.
The world dissolves around him. The edges of your smile blur. Your voice, the one that brought him peace, fades into the background.
And Rafael wakes.
Alone.
He looks around at the empty bedroom, at the mess, at the nightstand where the pill bottle waits.
He knows Olivia is right.
He knows he can’t keep doing this.
But the ache in his chest refuses to listen.
Because you exist there.
And not here.
________________________________________
Oh my Rafael Barba... if Olive doesn't want you I will happily take up that mantle.
You know, there’s this big, black cloud that’s following you around that you’re gonna have to come out from under before I’d even consider… That’s just like you. A little rain follows me to town and you just fall to pieces.
JOHN CUSACK and MINNIE DRIVER in GROSSE POINTE BLANK (1997)
(Phillip getting ready for Christmas with his wife 🎄)
In the cosy haven of the Graves' household, the air was infused with the nostalgic scent of pine and the soft glow of Christmas lights. Philip, typically attuned to the precision of military operations, found himself immersed in a different mission – preparing for a joyous Christmas with his beloved wife.
The sound of holiday tunes filled the air as Philip carefully unravelled a string of lights, a determined focus etched on his face. Y/n, adorned in a festive sweater, observed with a twinkle in her eye as her husband navigated the delicate dance of untangling the lights, a task that seemed to require the same finesse as disarming a bomb.
As the room began to sparkle with the warm illumination, Philip turned to y/n with a triumphant smile. Together, they adorned the Christmas tree with an array of ornaments, each holding a cherished memory from their shared journey. It became a tapestry of their life – a testament to the enduring love that had weathered the storms of both war and peace.
The scent of gingerbread wafted from the kitchen, where y/n and Philip collaborated on baking festive treats. The rhythmic hum of laughter and the occasional dusting of flour painted a scene of shared joy.
In the evening, the couple cozied up by the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa adorned with marshmallows. The crackling fire mirrored the warmth that enveloped them as they exchanged stories and dreams for the future.
The culmination of their efforts came with the exchange of thoughtful gifts beneath the twinkling lights. Philip, usually pragmatic, had chosen a delicate piece of jewellery that sparkled as brightly as y/n eyes. In return, y/n presented him with a carefully crafted photo album, capturing moments of love and laughter throughout their journey.
As Christmas Eve unfolded, the couple stood together by the window, gazing at the snow-kissed landscape. The world outside seemed to be quiet in reverence to the intimate celebration within. Philip wrapped y/n in a tender embrace, the weight of the past year replaced by a shared promise of love and hope for the future.
In the embrace of their festive cocoon, Philip and y/n Graves discovered that the true magic of Christmas wasn't in grand gestures but in the quiet moments of togetherness. In their haven of love, decorated with the ornaments of their shared life, they found the warmth and joy that transcended even the harshest of battlegrounds.
The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the suburban landscape. Phillip Graves, a seasoned soldier, stepped off the plane with a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. The weight of his military gear was replaced by the heaviness of his heart as he made his way through the bustling airport. The familiar faces of loved ones reunited enveloped him, but his focus was fixed on one person – his wife.
At the doorstep of their cosy home, Phillip hesitated before unlocking the door. He took a deep breath, letting the scent of familiarity wash over him. As the door creaked open, the soft murmur of voices reached his ears. His heart quickened.
In the living room, Phillip found y/n surrounded by photographs and the comforting hum of a kettle on the stove. She turned at the sound of the door, her eyes widening in disbelief. The room seemed to stand still as they locked eyes, emotions swirling between them like a hurricane.
Without a word, y/n rushed into Phillip's arms, her tears of joy mingling with his overwhelming relief. The tight embrace conveyed more than words ever could – the fear of loss, the months of separation, and the enduring love that had kept them connected across the distance.
Over dinner, Phillip recounted tales of the battlefield, sparing no detail in his desire to share every moment with y/n. She listened intently, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and concern. As the evening progressed, laughter replaced tears, and the weight of war slowly lifted from Phillip's shoulders.
Later, in the quiet intimacy of their bedroom, Phillip and y/n found solace in each other's presence. The dim light revealed the traces of weariness etched on Phillip's face, but his eyes shone with a newfound appreciation for the simple joys of being home.
Wrapped in the warmth of their shared history, they lay side by side, recounting dreams, fears, and the moments they had missed. The night unfolded like a love story, where the hero returned not to a battlefield but to the sanctuary of home, reuniting with the love that had sustained him through the trials of war.
As they drifted into sleep, hand in hand, the echoes of distant battles faded, replaced by the quiet serenity of a homebound hero finding refuge in the embrace of his waiting wife.
titsay
turnnoffyourmind
2087
discoholicmusic
