synopsis. in the glow of a ruined painting, whispers of lemuria stir, and rafayel’s mark burns with a truth he refuses to name.
pairing. rafayel qi x lemurian! non-mc! reader
content. fem!reader, non-mc!reader, lemurian!reader, reincarnation!au, unrequited love (both rafayel and reader), a ton of angst, VERY SLOW slowburn (reader will appear later), hurt/no comfort (?), maybe ooc!rafayel, manipulative!emcee, emcee knows about the bond but doesn’t care, TW: SUICIDE (side characters)
word count. 1.3k
a/n. this is my first time writing for lads! this is also the first time i write something other than smut. i am a bit reluctant to post this, but my brain won’t shut up!! please let me know your thoughts!
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“rafayeeel… hi!” emcee stepped into the studio with a sheepish grin plastered on her face, perfectly aware that the lemurian was going to scold her for her negligence.
but can she really be blamed? the life of a hunter is busy and unpredictable. she doesn’t have time for his childish antics.
“miss bodyguard, what brings you here? certainly not my messages, as you’ve ignored them all this time.”
rafayel didn’t miss a beat as he delivered his usual feisty lines, throwing them at emcee with his harmonious voice. he acknowledged her presence as soon as she treaded into the room, but did not turn around to greet her.
he was going to uphold a similar attitude as emcee and deprive her of his full attention, purely out of spite. thus, his gradient orbs remained fixated on the canvas before him, hand flawlessly dabbing the brush onto the bluish paint blob and shaping another foamy wave into the painting.
but the brush moved too easily. too fluidly. as if every stroke only sought to distract him from the pull deep inside his chest.
the bond mark burned faintly beneath his skin, pulsing in quiet resonance with her presence. every time she entered a room, it was the same — that faint ache that reminded him they were tied, that his heart was shackled.
and every time, the same truth dug its claws in deeper: she wasn’t his in this life.
“ah, rafayel, you know i’m busy and there’s been this case–”
“yeah, yeah, whatever. you’re just like a shiny lure — attracting all the work in your association.”
rafayel huffed and puffed his cheeks as he dipped his paintbrush into a muted shade of blue, standing his ground against her excuses. the high parts of the waves looked great, but the lower sections could use more contrast and–
“attracting lemuria too.”
huh?
an irritated laugh immediately followed her words. “haha, very funny.”
attracting lemuria as in attracting him? was emcee shamelessly pointing out how he was also captivated by her glimmer and fell prey like a dumb fish? annoyance creeped up the back of his neck, strangling him slightly.
rafayel tried his best to remain composed, but his precise hand betrayed him and trembled over the canvas.
making the darker depths of the ocean spill over the shinier peaks.
“you–”
“there’s a new case i need to investigate and it is connected to lemuria.”
that’s when rafayel finally turned away from the ruined painting. and looked at her fully.
“what?”
he slipped off his painting chair as fast as possible, making sure not to fall like he did during their first official meeting. his color palette remained nicely propped on one of the steps as rafayel finally made his way to the couch. to emcee.
“tell me what you know, cutie.”
his demeanor completely changed. his playful and sassy behaviour was nailed down and covered by a thick layer of seriousness and palpable interest.
everything related to lemuria did that to him.
because lemuria was not just a word, not just a place. it was a wound carved into the marrow of his being — a reminder of the things he’d lost and the chains he still carried. and hearing it fall from her lips, careless and unburdened, made his chest ache again.
as if the bond between them wanted to remind him: lemuria has no meaning for her.
activating a holographic screen on her hunter’s watch, emcee started explaining her new mission. “in the past two weeks, three esteemed and well-known public figures have taken their own lives. we suspect something similar to raymond’s case happened here as well.”
“and why’s that?”
“all of those victims had one thing in common. they all possessed something called lemuria’s blessings, conchs that were acquired during a private gathering of elites.”
rafayel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the flickering hologram. his expression softened for only a breath, but then he chuckled — brittle and sharp, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.
“lemuria’s blessings?”
“rings any bells?”
“never heard of that. no way they’re from lemuria.” he clicked his tongue, almost offended by such a claim. “it’s probably a hoax.”
“that’s what we thought too. but the conchs… the watch reacted like it did to raymond’s painting. your painting.”
rafayel tilted his head, strands of purple hair spilling like silk away from his forehead as he studied her serious expression, the slight amusement gone from his eyes.
“really now? are you sure you aren’t just letting your little hunter imagination run wild again?”
emcee shook her head firmly, fingers gliding over the holographic display to bring up the image of one of the conchs. its surface shimmered faintly, like moonlight bending under the ocean waters. the pattern was unusual, indeed, but… it wasn’t that special in rafayel’s eyes.
yet, next to it was a complex diagram, showcasing the reaction the watch had to the conch.
abnormal.
“this is serious, rafayel. i’ve never seen something like this. every victim claimed it made them feel whole… until they broke apart.”
rafayel’s gaze flickered briefly, betraying something he refused to name. whole. the word clung to him like a sea urchin. he tore his eyes away and let them fall back onto the ruined waves of his painting. a small, crooked smile stretched across his lips — forced, hostile.
to be whole... wasn’t that the lie his own soul whispered every time the bond throbbed beneath his ribs? that, if only she turned towards him, if only she chose him, he would finally be complete? the irony carved into him like an expert sculptor into marble.
“funny, isn’t it? people desperate to feel complete will chase anything, even if it kills them.”
emcee’s voice softened, guilt glimmering in her gaze. “rafayel…”
“don’t.” he cut her off too quickly, too sharply, all too familiar with her stance. “don’t look at me like that, cutie. you’ve got enough pity stored up for your cases. i don’t need any.”
the following silence between them was heavy, filled only by the faint hum of the rotating diagram. at last, emcee exhaled, pulling the screen away.
“i came here because i thought you might know something. lemuria is part of your world, not mine.”
emcee’s voice carried that quiet urgency she reserved for moments she couldn’t afford to lose. she reached forward, resting her palm briefly against the back of his hand before pulling away.
why?
did she do that inattentively or on purpose?
her touch seared him. not with heat, but with absence. because every time she pulled away, the mark flared, as if it mourned the distance. his chest ached so badly he almost pressed his hand into hers, almost begged her not to move. but he only smiled instead.
enduring.
“there’s going to be another high-end gathering soon. the owner — dean sullivan — flaunts these artifacts to his rich connections despite what happened to the other three. i need to investigate before someone else falls victim.”
her pause carried weight, the kind of silence that begged to be noticed.
“and i… need you to come with me.”
rafayel’s head tilted, his lips curving into that dangerous half-smile that was equal parts mischief and defense mechanism. “of course, you’re asking for help.”
what did he expect? for emcee to stop by for him? for her to understand the bond they share and reciprocate his feelings?
obviously not.
“don’t make me repeat it.” she muttered, her eyes sharp, her resolve unwavering. “i can’t explore those conchs alone. if something’s hidden inside them, you’d… you’d notice it. you see what others can’t.”
the compliment lanced straight through him, more cruel than kind. rafayel laughed again, softer this time, though his voice caught at the end.
“careful, cutie. flattery is an anchor, quite heavy. and it drags people down.”
but he didn’t refuse.
he couldn’t.
because when it came to emcee, he never really could.
and that was the tragedy — to carry lemuria’s fall in his veins, with a bond engraved into his very being. only to remain forever an afterthought in her story. unrequited, unseen, undone.
content. fem!reader, non-mc!reader, lemurian!reader, reincarnation!au, sweet!rafayel, WHIPPED!rafayel, idol!rafayel, angry!rafayel, make-up artist!reader, lemurian form, imaginary lemurian dishes, FLUFF, domestic time with raffy, allusion to marriage, reader is called darling/dear/love but also y/n for the plot, HURT/NO COMFORT, the ocean is acting up but for a reason, lemurian appears in bold, emcee appearance, TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, ever, allusion to sylus x non-mc!reader, i am sorry for this ending.
word count. 6.9k
a/n. this ending and the g.e. share the beginning! the divergence will be signaled by a divider so you don't get lost. thank you for joining me on this journey! i had a lot of fun. please let me know your thoughts for this bit! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!!
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the week that followed unfolded like a slow tide — steady, healing, kind.
your ankle no longer ached when you walked, only itched faintly where the skin had knitted itself new. rafayel’s neck had lost its bruised shadows too; the scales that had formed there peeled away in soft, silvery flakes, leaving pale, unblemished skin behind.
even the faint cut on your chest — the place where the knife almost ended your fate — had healed into nothing more than a fine line of memory.
and now, on a crisp morning bathed in sea air and sunlight, you stood in front of rafayel’s home surrounded by boxes, laughing as you tried to carry too many at once.
“darling– absolutely not!”
rafayel announced from the car, where he was already balancing three larger boxes on one arm like it was nothing. the top tuffs of his hair were tied up messily with a scrunchie of yours, highlighting his cuteness. yet he’d rolled the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, revealing the veins that flexed each time he shifted a box — a clear reminder of his manliness.
“you’ll hurt yourself again. give me that.”
“i’m fine!” you insisted, though the box in your hands was making your arms shake a little. “it’s just camera lenses, not bricks.”
he arched a brow as he strode toward you, that familiar mix of amusement and exasperation softening his face. “camera lenses are heavy, my love. and fragile. you’ll drop them and then you’ll cry.”
“i don’t cry.” you countered, backing away as he reached for the box. “you cry. every time you run out of paints.”
“that was one time.” he protested, pouting his lips at you, already plucking the box easily from your hands despite your attempt to hold on. “and it was a tragic moment.”
you snorted, wiping sweat from your forehead with your forearm. “you’re insufferable.”
he grinned — that bright, lopsided grin that still made your chest flutter in the nicest way.
“plu-ease, you adore me.”
“i tolerate you.” you said, but your lips betrayed you with a smile.
rafayel leaned down fast to steal a kiss — quick, featherlight, but full of warmth. “liar.” he murmured against your mouth before straightening up, your box tucked effortlessly under one arm as he headed for the door.
you shook your head, following him inside emptyhanded. “if you keep stealing all the boxes, what am i supposed to carry?”
“yourself.” he called over his shoulder. “safely. preferably without tripping.”
“i will throw something at you.”
“not the camera, i hope.” came his cheerful reply.
the living room was already half-filled with unpacked items — piles of clothes, stacks of books, a growing collection of sea-themed trinkets that matched rafayel’s aesthetic perfectly. sunlight cracked through the drawn yet fluttering curtains of the big windows that overlooked the sparkling ocean, and for a moment, you simply stopped to breathe it all in.
the air smelling faintly of salt and roses. the distant cry of seagulls mixed with the rhythmic hush of waves.
it felt like home.
it was home now.
you crouched down near one of the open boxes and began unpacking your photography equipment — waterproof cameras, lenses, cables, and the worn leather case that held them all together during your marine explorations.
the familiar tools of your trade, smelling faintly of saltwater and old memories.
rafayel noticed and knelt beside you, curiosity flickering in his duo-chrome eyes. “you really are a genius, you know that? mixing being a lemurian with–”
you smiled faintly, running a hand along the edge of the cameras as you complete rafayel’s sentence. “marine photography? it was the only way to reconcile my true nature and the modern world...”
“you did it beautifully.” he murmured, adoration etched into his gaze. “always have.”
you looked at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “flattery won’t get you out of carrying the rest of the boxes.”
“was worth a try.” he laughed — low, warm, and genuine — and leaned in to press a kiss to your temple.
as the morning stretched into noon, the two of you moved together in an easy rhythm — unpacking, teasing, pausing for sweet pecks whenever rafayel decided you looked too adorable mid-task to resist.
at one point, he caught you trying to balance a box of pictures on your hip and immediately swooped in, snatching it away.
“rafayel!”
“ah-ah, not happening.” he scolded lightly, grinning as he held it above your reach. “you promised you wouldn’t strain yourself.”
“i promised no such thing.” you huffed, jumping and stretching your hands in an attempt to reach for it — only to find yourself suddenly pulled into his chest instead. his free arm wrapped around you, holding you close. “that’s cheating.”
“that’s affection.” he corrected, kissing the tip of your nose. “learn the difference.”
you pretended to glare but melted all the same, your fingers curling against his shirt. the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was grounding, tender — a rhythm you’d come to know as safety itself.
he pulled back slightly, looking down at you. “it’s strange…” he murmured. “to have you here, like this. to wake up and know you’re not a dream.”
you tilted your chin up, propping it on the peaks of his chest. “you thought i was a dream?”
“for a long time.” he admitted softly. “every time i closed my eyes, i saw flashes — blue lights, melodious songs, a ton of saltwater. never your face. i thought the bond was mocking me.”
you brushed your thumb over his jaw, smiling. “guess it finally decided to be kind.”
“or you did.” he murmured, and kissed you on your lips once more — slower this time, a kiss that made the world fall quiet for a few breaths.
oh, how whipped you were for one another.
when you finally pulled apart, you laughed quietly and pointed toward the half-empty car outside. “come on, sea god. there’s still more.”
he groaned dramatically. “you wound me.”
“you’ll survive.” you teased, bumping his side as you stepped aside.
he caught your hand before you could walk away, fingers lacing through yours. “you know.” he said, eyes softening. “i could get used to this.”
“to what?”
“to you — in my house, in my mornings, in my everything.”
your cheeks flushed at the sudden love confession, taken by surprise by his sudden honesty. “careful, rafayel. say that one more time and it might become permanent.”
he smirked, leaning close, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips and placing a soft peck on your ring finger.
“i want you in my everything. forever.”
your breath caught.
the kiss was featherlight — barely there — but it sent a shiver all the way to your heart. his lips lingered against your ring finger for a heartbeat too long, and when he pulled back, the world seemed quieter, softer.
you stared at him, eyes wide, heat rushing to your face once more. “forever?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.
rafayel smiled that slow, melting smile of his, the one that reached his eyes and made them gleam like jewelries. “is that too bold?”
“it’s–” you swallowed, unable to stop the tremor in your words, the joy such confessions bloomed inside you. “it’s… a lot.”
“a lot.” he echoed, teasing gently, but his tone was full of warmth. “then i suppose i’ll have to keep saying it until it feels just right.”
your mark pulsed then; a soft, vivid red that shimmered beneath your skin. it glowed brighter as his thumb brushed over the spot where his lips had been, as if your soul itself was answering his words.
rafayel’s eyes flicked down, widening slightly at the sight, and a quiet laugh escaped him — not mocking, but full of wonder.
“look at that.” he whispered. “your heart’s louder than your voice.”
“oh, shut it.”
“hahahaha.”
•••
“my gods, darling–”
the first thing rafayel noticed when you walked back through the bedroom door was how utterly, ridiculously… adorable you looked.
your hair was pulled back from your face, the weak sunlight, sneaking through the clouds, bouncing off the lenses of your new prescription glasses. you two decided to go for a check-up together and, to your excitement and rafayel’s horror, both of you needed correction glasses.
you carried the small bag from the clinic, two gorgeous pair of glasses tucked securely, cozying with one another with the promise of a try-on session at home.
and here you were, both adorning your glasses, seeing each other for the first time with your new permanent accessories.
rafayel couldn’t avert his eyes from you, a reddish shade creeping up his skin and brushing his face with adoration. the frames of your glasses were subtle, delicate — not flashy — and yet somehow, impossibly you.
“my love…” he breathed, raising from the edge of the bed, staring like he’d forgotten how to move. “you– you look… so cute.”
you laughed, a little higher than you’d expected, surprised by rafayel’s baffled reaction. he was so stunned, so out of words, it felt only right to tease him back.
“cute? that’s the best you’ve got?”
he blinked at you behind his own glasses — a new pair that framed his widened eyes and colourful irises beautifully. the blush rising along his neck and ears was now painfully obvious, contrasting with the frame.
“no, no, cute doesn’t even start to cover it. you… look like the corals, like the ocean, and… and some ridiculous ancient charm i can’t even–”
“rafayel…” you giggled, reaching out to tug him forward by one of his belt loops. “you’re rambling now.”
“i can’t help it!” he whined, leaning into you before you could protest, pressing a chaste but insistent kiss to the top of your head, then your temple, then — impossibly — your nose. “you’re… my pearl. my everything. and those glasses! they make me want to…”
he broke off, exhaling sharply, hiding half his face in your shoulder as though embarrassed by his own desire to kiss you again and again and again.
you rolled your eyes playfully, but the smile curving your lips betrayed you. slowly, you grasped the nape of his neck and pulled him back up, now admiring his own new look.
“if you keep talking like that, i might have to kiss you too.” you teased. “and i will, handsome.”
“h-handsome?”
“you know…” you began, brushing a strand of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears. “those glasses… they really suit you.”
rafayel glanced at you through the lenses, one eyebrow raised. “do they? i feel… different. like a human librarian who is secretly dangerous.”
you laughed, reaching over to lightly pinch his cheek. “no, you look amazing. very attractive, actually. you could walk into town and suddenly people, men and women, will make a queue just to get a picture with you.”
he let out a small, hesitant laugh, clearly flustered, tugging the glasses down slightly as if to inspect the truth value of your words. “are you sure you’re not exaggerating?”
“absolutely not.” you insisted, pressing a soft kiss to his rosy lips. “i never exaggerate when it comes to my boyfriend.”
•••
later, in the quiet glow of the living room, you sat cross-legged on the couch, a small bottle of eye drops in your hand. your glasses perched delicately on your nose, away from your dried eyes.
“okay, show me how it’s done.” rafayel said, settling beside you with a tentative smile. he adjusted his own glasses nervously, the slight tremble in his fingers betraying his nervousness.
“watch closely.”
you tilted your head back, demonstrating first on yourself: one hand pulled gently on your lower lid, the other hovering with the bottle above your eye.
drop.
another drop.
“see? just tilt your head slightly back, focus on one point, and gently squeeze one drop in.” you blinked once to let it settle, then smiled at him. “easy.”
rafayel watched with wide, slightly panicked eyes. “easy for you.” he muttered, reaching toward his own eyes like the concept was suddenly terrifying.
“don’t be silly.” you said, moving closer to guide him. “take off your glasses, i’ll do it for you.”
“is it really necessary now tha–”
“yes, it is. now come here, you big baby!”
rafayel let out a long sigh, resting his head in your lap as you folded his glasses and placed them away.
“i… i don’t like this.” he admitted softly, eyes fluttering shut already.
“you’ll be fine.” you encouraged, stroking his hair gently.
he huffed, tense, but allowed you to tilt his head back. you guided the bottle above his eye, waiting for him to blink — and waited… and waited.
rafayel’s body twitched, one hand coming up to rest nervously on your shoulder, the other flailing slightly. “i-i can’t… i can’t keep my eyes open!” he protested, eyes squeezed shut, lashes brushing your palm.
you laughed, gripping his wrist gently. “you’re fine! just… relax. trust me!”
“i–i feel like i’m being attacked by a tiny water demon!” he exclaimed, flinching dramatically as you blinked the drop into his eye while he wasn’t paying attention. “ahh!”
you laughed harder, running a hand down his arm to soothe him. “you’re ridiculous.” you teased, wiping the tear that had formed at the corner of his eye from blinking. “it’s just one drop! no water demons.”
he groaned, shaking his head but allowing you to finish the second drop. the way his head twitched against your lap making you laugh until your cheeks hurt.
“i can’t believe i’m letting you do this.” he muttered, voice muffled slightly as he buried his face into your crotch, hiding from the evil eye drops.
“yes, you can.” you cooed, brushing his hair back to get a glimpse of his pouty face. “because you trust me. and also because your dry lemurian eyes need drops to not go blind.”
rafayel peeked up at you, one eye slightly squinted, and you gasped from his cuteness. “go blind? that’s… that’s not fair. why are we so tortured?”
“because we’re on land, silly.” you said, voice soft now, the first glimmer of calm breaking through your laughter.
“right…” he blinked slowly, his purple and pink eyes soft yet vibrant from the drops. “at least i have you.” he said quietly, nuzzling his face further between your thighs. “i don’t mind the drops… as long as i have you here.”
you smiled, caressing his cheek with gentle strokes, as you started to hum a gentle lemurian song from the past.
“i will always be here for you, rafayel.”
•••
the kitchen smelled like fish, citrus, and nostalgia.
you stood barefoot on the cool tile, the late afternoon sunlight pouring in through the wide windows, dancing over your hair and the cutting board in front of you. your fingers moved instinctively, slicing through bright coral fruits that shimmered faintly in the light — lemurian tide pears, sweet and briny, found only in the shallows where coral gardens grew dense and ancient.
rafayel leaned against the counter beside you, sleeves rolled up, eyes intent on your hands as he tried to mimic your motion. his own cutting board looked like a battlefield — unevenly chopped seaweed roots and one unfortunate pear that had somehow turned into mush.
you stifled a laugh at his clumsiness.
“you’re supposed to cut them gently, not… massacre them.”
he shot you a mock glare, though there was a smile tugging at his lips. “forgive me, chef, i didn’t realize culinary grace was of great importance.”
you nudged him with your hip. “everything’s important. especially when it comes to food.”
he chuckled, eyes softening as he leaned over slightly to steal a piece of sea-pear from your pile. you swatted his hand away, shooing him with your voice too.
“hey!”
“i’m taste testing.” he said, chewing with the self-satisfied air of a man who’d just committed an adorable crime. “for quality control.”
you sighed dramatically, tossing another piece into his mouth before he could protest more. “fine. you’re lucky i love you.”
that earned you a grin so radiant it could have outshone the ocean itself.
“i love you too.”
by the time you finished preparing, the kitchen was filled with the scent of roasted kelp wraps, citrus-marinated fish, and steamed dumplings — your own modern twist to the nostalgic lemurian dishes of your past lives.
rafayel arranged everything carefully into a woven basket, while you packed a fancy bottle of wine, and a rolled-up blanket.
he glanced at you as you adjusted the blanket strap over your shoulder, his gaze tracing down your figure. you were dressed for the beach — a light crocheted dress swaying gently over your swimsuit, bare feet padding softly on the floor. your hair was free, swaying in the gentle breeze of the ocean.
“you look…” rafayel started, words failing him for a moment.
“hmm?” you tilted your head.
he smiled, faint and honest. “like a goddess.”
you felt your cheeks flush, the soft warmth of his voice sinking deep into you. you leaned up to kiss his cheek, whispering.
“hurry up then! don’t keep your goddess waiting.”
outside, the air was golden — the kind of afternoon where time seemed to slow, where everything shimmered with that fragile beauty only the ocean could hold. the sand was warm underfoot as you made your way to the beach behind rafayel’s house, the picnic basket swinging gently between you two.
you spread the blanket out near the waterline, placing the basket and towels on one corner. rafayel settled down the wine and looked up just as the horizon turned a deeper shade of red.
the waves stretched out endlessly before you, calm and inviting.
he finally got to see the ocean with you.
“come on!” you turned toward him with a wide grin.
you slipped the crocheted dress off and tossed it onto the blanket, revealing your swimsuit beneath — the fabric catching the sunlight, shimmering faintly with traces of iridescent patterning. the ocean called to you, and before rafayel could answer your invitation, you were already running towards it, laughter bubbling from your chest as you splashed through the shallows.
“ha, ha, the ocean!”
rafayel watched you — the way your laughter carried over the sound of the surf, the way the waves bent around you like the ocean itself adored you.
his heart stuttered. you belonged here, in your element, glowing with life.
and so did he.
he started to unbutton his shirt, eyes still fixed on you, when his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. the name flashing on the screen made his stomach twist.
emcee.
for a moment, the world seemed to shrink — the sound of waves fading into a hollow silence. his pulse drummed hard against his ribs, a strong reminder of something he abandoned weeks ago.
why was she calling right now? he hadn’t heard from her in days. and the last time they talked, her voice had been cold, almost distant. he’d told himself it didn’t matter. he’d told himself he’d moved on.
but seeing her name, that ghost from another life, made something tight coil in his chest.
his thumb hovered over the screen.
you turned around in the water, standing waist-deep now, droplets running down your skin, your eyes bright. “rafayel! come on!”
your laughter broke through everything.
and suddenly, it wasn’t even a choice.
he stared at his phone for one last heartbeat — then pressed the side button, silencing it, and tossed it gently into his towel.
the sea called louder. you called louder.
when he looked up again, you were already getting comfortable — the faint glimmer of scales dancing along your thighs, the ripples around your body dancing in the shallows. he could see the spark of joy in your expression, the way you tilted your head toward the horizon as if it were your true home.
“ra–”
he smiled.
“–fa–”
the shirt came off, the fabric fluttering onto the blanket in an instant. you turned just as he entered the surf, the water curling around his legs, the dying sunlight painting his skin in gold and silver.
“–yellll.”
“yeah, yeah, coming!”
rafayel waded into the water, a shiver rippling through him as the tide wrapped around his legs like an old friend — or an old rival.
the ocean was colder than usual, its pull sharper, more unpredictable. he took another step forward, his gaze locked on you. you were laughing, hair glinting with molten sunlight, the edges of your scales catching the glow in flashes of blue and rose.
but as he advanced, the ocean shifted.
a sudden wave rolled in, higher and heavier than it should’ve been. it crashed against his chest, forcing him back a step. saltwater sprayed across his face, burning his eyes. rafayel blinked through it, confused for half a second — and then he felt it.
the will of the ocean.
it wasn’t welcoming him.
the next wave followed fast, slamming into his ribs, nearly knocking the breath out of him. the tide clawed at his ankles like living chains, dragging at his legs, pushing him away from you. you looked over your shoulder, startled by the sudden fury, your laughter faltering.
“rafayel?” you called once more, this time worried.
he could barely hear you over the roar.
for a moment, it was as if the ocean itself was separating you — its ancient current snarling between two bound souls. the water churned, the currents tangling around him like angry serpents, whispering in the deep language of the ocean.
rafayel gritted his teeth. the god in him stirred.
“enough.” he hissed under his breath, his voice half-human, half-divine, his eyes glowing a deep blue.
the waves surged again, testing him — a wall of salt and power rising before him. he thrust his hand forward, palm cutting through the water with effortless grace. the currents hesitated, shuddering at the command that hummed from his veins.
the waves stilled for a moment — trembling, hesitant, as though torn between obedience and warning. foam curled around rafayel’s wrist, cold as breath from a tomb.
and then, with a guttural growl of the tide, the ocean obeyed.
he pushed forward, water slightly parting around him, each stride harder and heavier than the last. the horizon blazed behind you, the last rays of sunlight gilding your hair, your laughter still echoing faintly across the foam. you were there, several feet ahead, glowing like a goddess.
the golden horizon framed you perfectly — your hair sticking wet to your cheeks, your smile soft and open, the gentle shimmer of scales playing along your thighs.
he felt his chest tighten, his throat ache. the ocean had always been your home, but somehow you looked most divine when you were laughing under mortal light. he thought, distantly, that this was it — this was what peace looked like. you, the ocean, the gold hour spilling into forever.
but peace never lasted for him.
just as he reached out — his hand slicing through the spray, the ocean breaking around his fingers — the world exploded.
it happened so suddenly that even time seemed to stumble.
the sound that tore through the air was foreign here — too sharp, too human.
a gunshot.
so loud it silenced everything else.
the sound cut through the roar of the surf, through the wind, through time itself — a sharp, unnatural crack that split the horizon in two. rafayel froze, his outstretched hand trembling midair. the wave between you crashed, droplets scattering into light — and then he saw it.
you.
your expression shifting from delight to confusion to horror — the faint gasp leaving your lips, eyes wide. the glow of your mark flared once under your collarbone, a flash of red so bright it seared itself into his vision… before the light went out.
the bullet struck you clean through the soul-mark.
the sound — the impact — seemed to echo inside his chest. your body jerked with the force, droplets of crimson blooming across your skin, spilling like a watercolor into the sea. the world slowed. the air thickened. his own heartbeat thundered in his ears, drowning everything else.
you reached for him, lips parting to call out.
“raf–”
and then you fell forward.
the ocean caught you — but not gently. the water swallowed you whole, the ripples blooming outward from your body like a wound spreading through the surf.
rafayel didn’t breathe. couldn’t.
the waves surged again, pushing him back, shielding him. he roared, his voice inhuman, the command of the god beneath his skin bursting free. “no!”
“no, no, no!” rafayel bellowed, the sound ragged and desperate, swallowed by wind and ocean.
he stumbled forward, half-running, half-sinking as the waves bucked violently against him. his knees hit the water, then his chest, his arms thrashing against the pull of the current that was not actually resisting him — it was protecting him.
the ocean was pulling him back.
he felt it — that familiar ancient will — now frantic, commanding him to stay back from the sniping area.
but he couldn’t. he wouldn’t.
“give her back!” he roared, his voice cracking, divine light flooding from his blue eyes. his hand shot into the foam, desperate, searching for your arm, your hair, your warmth — anything.
“do you hear me?! give her back!”
the tide recoiled like it feared him, but still it wouldn’t return you.
through the crashing waves and the burning salt in his eyes, he caught a glimpse of you — your body floating just beneath the surface, your hair fanning like ink in water. the scarlet from your chest mixed with the blue-green hues of the ocean, spiraling outward like a dissolving sunset.
he lunged again, choking as another wave slammed him back, filling his mouth and lungs with salt. his strength faltered, his knees gave, but his arms still reached, trembling and bloodied from where the seashells had scraped him raw.
“fuck.”
he saw your fingers — just barely — grazing the surface before the current pulled you deeper, deeper, until the reflection of your face was lost beneath the foam.
“let me through!” he commanded, the water trembling with his fury. “let me–”
and then… something grabbed his arm.
a hand.
a voice.
“rafayel– we need to go, now!”
he spun, eyes blazing with rage, and found her.
emcee.
saltwater dripped from her lashes, her face pale and frantic, the grip of her hand tight against his wrist. “they are here! ever found us! i tried to call you but–”
her words blurred into noise.
rafayel stared at her — and for a moment, he didn’t see his bonded partner. he saw the reason. the cause. the hand behind the sniper gun.
his voice broke into a growl, eyebrows furrowing with deep-seated anger.
it was her.
she betrayed you.
“you–”
“rafayel, please, i didn’t–”
“you told them.” his tone was low, guttural, disbelieving. the waves around him rose with his rage, turning dark under the dying sunset. “you told ever where we were. you let them–”
“i didn’t!” she cried, clutching his arm tighter. “listen to me, i was only trying to—”
“to what?!” his shout ripped through the surf, fangs barred, making her flinch. “to have her killed?”
the bond mark on his chest — the one that tethered him to her — pulsed violently once. blue, then a dark, seething black. the veins around his mark glowed, his change of heart bleeding into the air.
the ocean hissed in sympathy, retreating from him as if afraid.
“rafayel–”
black.
“don’t you say my name!” his voice cracked, raw and shaking, blooming with fury and hatred. “you don’t get to say it!”
emcee stumbled backwards, her hand falling away as rafayel snatched his back. the look in his eyes was feral — despair made flesh, pain made divine.
black meant hatred.
“get the fuck away from me!”
he turned from her, chest heaving, and looked to where your body floated — limp and weightless — the surf cradling you like glass. the water around you shimmered faintly with red, a haunting shade that mixed beautifully with the shiny blue of the flourishing bioluminescence.
he waded forward, the ocean calming before him now, subdued beneath his grief. every step was agony — the kind that carved itself into bone and took sheltered there for eternity.
when he reached you, he fell to his knees in the shallows, clawed hands trembling as he gathered you against his chest.
your head lolled against his shoulder, hair slick with salt and blood.
“hey…” his voice cracked, a fragile whisper swallowed by the wind. “hey, it’s okay. it’s– it’s me.”
he pressed his hand over your bullet wound, hoping and praying the strength of the lemurian blood will cover it in scales and heal it.
…no scales appeared.
only blood and human flesh.
the mark on your chest — or what remained of it, shone red first, a strong shade matching the blood dripping across your bathing suit. then it pulsed, faster and faster, until it turned completely opaque to your skin tone.
you were slipping away.
the ocean wept with him — the waves slowing, flattening, silent as death itself. the bioluminescence sparkled around your bodies with every lull of the ocean, mirroring rafayel’s blueish eyes.
the sun died together with you and now, with the faint glimmer of a waning moon, the bond was shrinking too.
“my love…”
he rocked you gently, his tears falling into your hair. “you were supposed to see it with me.” he murmured, half-choked. “the ocean, the way it looks at night — it glows, you know? it glows, and i wanted you to–”
his words broke off into a soundless cry. his body shook, his throat constricted around a scream that never came.
behind him, emcee stood motionless, the color drained from her face. the black mark on his neck pulsed one final time — then flickered out completely.
their bond was gone.
only one remained, fragile and dying — yours.
rafayel gathered you closer, his arms locking around you as though he could somehow hold your soul inside your body through sheer will. the water lapped at his sides, gentler now, rippling in small, mournful circles around you both.
he pressed his forehead to your temple, his lips trembling against your skin.
you were already cold.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m–” he whispered, again and again, each repetition softer, smaller, breaking apart like seafoam on stone.
“i’m sorry, my love. i promised you i’d protect you.” his voice cracked, a desperate, wounded sound that belonged to neither god nor man. “i swore it to you… and still…”
his breath hitched; his tears fell hot and fast against your cheek, mixing with the salt of the sea.
“still i let them take you. again.” his words trembled against your skin as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling the faint trace of salt and roses that still clung to it. his shoulders shook with a silent cry.
“you hated being like this… human. so fragile, so soft. you told me how disgusting a human death feels.”
he broke down completely then, voice shattering into sobs. “and i made you re-live that anyway. i made you die that way. i let you die that way.”
“i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should have kept you safe. i should have seen it coming. i should have–” he pressed his lips to your hair, again and again, whispering into it like a confession, like a prayer.
his words dissolved into silence. only the sound of him weeping remained — rough, helpless, raw — until even the waves stilled, as though the entire ocean bowed its head in mourning.
“i love you so much. i always will.” and as the vitality of your eyes bled out, rafayel felt the world tilt, crumble, and drown.
•••
the studio lights were too bright.
too sterile.
too empty for the kind of ache that bloomed in rafayel’s chest the moment you stepped through the door.
he hadn’t been prepared — how could he be? he’d expected another faceless stylist, another hurried pre-show routine before the cameras and the noise swallowed him whole again. but then the door creaked open, and you walked in, sunlight tangled in your hair, the faint smell of rosewater following you like an echo of the past.
and his world — the one carefully built from fame, control, and denial — shattered.
for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
the light hit your face just right, and every lifetime came crashing down on him. the waves. the blood. the way your body had gone limp in his arms as the ocean tried to comfort what it had destroyed. the mark — once bright and red — flickering out like dying starlight beneath his shaking hands.
he saw all of it again, in one devastating heartbeat.
“mr. rafayel?” your voice came, soft, professional, unaware. “good afternoon. i’m y/n — i’ll be your makeup artist today.”
your tone was polite, practiced. not a single trace of recognition in those beautiful eyes of yours.
rafayel blinked, his lips parting — but no sound came out. he stared at you like someone seeing a ghost, his chest tight, his throat closing around words that would never make sense to you.
you smiled, that same smile that used to undo him — the one that made him feel safe again, back when he still believed he found joy. “nice to meet you.”
he nearly laughed.
nice to meet you?
he’d held you as you died. he’d buried you in the ocean’s arms. he’d spent centuries whispering apologies to the tide. and now you stood before him, warm and alive, reaching for your brushes like nothing had ever happened.
why?
“mr. rafayel?” you prompted softly. “should i start?”
“y-yeah. of course.” he swallowed hard, forcing his composure.
why are you acting like you don’t know him?
you smiled again, and the world tilted. you began your work — the faint scrape of a brush against his skin, the scent of foundation, your fingers brushing his jaw as you blended along the lines of his face.
you were gentle, careful, your touch steady.
just like before.
rafayel’s breath trembled, his eyes fluttering closed. his mind betrayed him, overlaying this sterile studio with memories of seawater and laughter, of your nurturing hands putting eye drops into his dry eyes centuries ago.
you’d teased him then for flinching.
he flinched now for a different reason — realisation.
you… forgot.
you noticed and stopped your movement. “sorry — did i get too close?”
“no. it’s fine.” he shook his head. his voice barely came out, something heavy pressing on his throat.
you hummed softly, continuing your work. “you have really good skin.” you murmured absently, focusing on his cheekbones. “no wonder people say cameras love you.”
he stared at you, hesitant to ask about your recollection about past lifetimes.
but he needed to confirm it.
“do you… know me?”
you blinked, pausing mid-stroke, a giggle leaving your rosy lips. “of course.” you said between chuckles. “you’re rafayel qi, the singer-slash-actor everyone’s obsessed with right now. kind of hard not to know you.”
he waited.
for the other identity to drop. for you to see the old him — your lover from a previous life.
but you just smiled politely, going back to work.
you really don’t remember.
he tried again, his voice low, changing the topic to something that might blaze your mind. “do you like the ocean?”
“what?” that random question made you pause once more. your brows knitted slightly, your reflection meeting his in the mirror. confusion written all over your features. “the ocean?”
he nodded, heartbeat loud in his ears, drowning in denial.
maybe your memory was just… blocked.
you hesitated, then gave a nervous laugh. “not really. i actually can’t swim. kind of… freaks me out, honestly.”
what?
his phone, forgotten in his grasp, fell from his hand with a heavy thud.
you blinked, spooked out by the sudden noise. “oh! i’m so sorry–”
he waved it off quickly, covering the tremor in his hands with a forced smile and a quick stretch towards his phone. but inside, he was hollow. his heart clenched, each beat sharper than the last, drawing out all the air in his lungs.
you — who once belonged to the ocean, who moved through the waves as though born from them — afraid of it now.
terrified of what used to be home.
he wanted to scream.
“are you okay?” you asked softly, concern flickering across your face from his weird behaviour. you’ve heard rumors about rafayel flirting with his staff, but never rumors of him being anxious around them.
he nodded slightly, throat too tight to form words. his eyes wandered — unthinking, desperate — to your chest, to the space where your mark should have been. he remembered how it used to glow red beneath his fingertips, warm as blood.
now there was nothing.
just smooth, human skin.
you noticed his stare and instinctively pulled your cardigan close, a hint of embarrassment and confusion coloring your expression. “um… is something wrong?”
why is this pervert looking at my chest?
rafayel blinked rapidly, shame hitting him like a wave after realizing the raunchiness of his gaze. “no. i just… sorry. i thought i saw something.”
“all good. happens to the best of us.” you smiled kindly, oblivious to the storm behind his eyes, accepting his lame excuse and moving on with the make-up.
he wanted to tell you everything — how you once loved him so fiercely the ocean itself grew jealous, how you died for that love, how he’d waited lifetimes to see you again, putting himself on the pedestal of fame to make himself visible to you.
to find you faster than last time.
he wanted to scream your name like a prayer, to remind you of the way you once said i love you against his throat.
but you were human now.
with a shattered soul.
and he was a god who couldn’t stop remembering you.
both of your wishes seemed to have been granted.
“there.” when you finished his makeup, you stepped back, smiling proudly at your work. “all done.”
rafayel looked at you fully — really looked — and something in him broke all over again. you were so close to him, yet he couldn’t reach you at all.
you tilted your head slightly, puzzled by his expression. why was he looking at you and not at his make-up?
“is it okay? too much? i can adjust–”
his voice was hoarse yet hurried. “no. it’s perfect.”
rafayel smiled faintly, though the word perfect hit him like a cruel echo. it used to be the word you’d whisper against his skin when he teased you, when laughter melted into warmth, when your chest shimmered red with love.
now it was just routine. polite. hollow.
you tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, all business again; hyping him up for the gig. “you’re all set for the shoot, mr. rafayel.”
he wanted to tell you to drop the mister.
he wanted to tell you how he’d held you as the tide took your last breath.
that he’d buried his heart under waves and waited lifetimes for this — for you.
but before he could find his voice and at least try to win you back, your phone buzzed against the make-up counter. the sound was small, mundane — yet it carved through the silence like a blade.
you picked it up without thinking. rafayel’s eyes followed.
the screen lit up with a contact name — sy ♡ — and a smiling photo of sylus qin, one of his labelmates, a fellow idol whose face had graced every billboard alongside his own.
the sight hit him like a physical blow, making his chest churn in pain.
and your face… your smile changed — softer, private. the kind of smile he remembered being meant for him only.
was sylus…?
you didn’t even notice his gaze. “sorry, one sec.” you murmured, thumbs already moving over the screen as you typed a quick reply. there was something sweet, almost tender, in the way your lips curved while you read whatever he sent back.
something lived in that smile — something rafayel hadn’t seen in himself for years.
he tried to look away, but his chest tightened painfully, his pulse roaring in his ears.
yet he said nothing. he couldn’t.
he couldn’t even try to win you over.
you locked your phone again and placed it down, unaware of the quiet destruction happening across from you. “sorry about that.” you said gently, a bit flustered. “it was just– someone checking in.”
he forced a small smile. “yeah. of course.”
but his heart was bleeding, just like yours did after the shot.
someone else got you.
you went on, adjusting the last few details of his collar and brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve. “there.” you murmured. “you look great.”
“…thanks.”
you caught his eyes in the mirror and smiled again — easy, kind, distant. “alright, i’ll be around if you need touch-ups before the cameras roll.”
then your phone buzzed again.
your hand hovered over it, and that small, shy smile returned before you excused yourself. “see you in a bit, mr. rafayel.”
when you turned to leave, he almost reached for you. almost said your name. almost begged you to listen to his poor soul.
but you were already at the door, texting back sylus with that lovestruck look you use to have only for him. but now, you were no longer looking back at him.
fuck.
the door closed with a quiet click, and he was alone again — surrounded by lights and mirrors and echoes of another life.
