Chapter Text
Rafayel sighed as he left the gallery’s back entrance. Thomas had insisted he make an appearance despite Rafayel’s feelings about going. But, according to Thomas, it was the best way to sell his paintings. He disliked all the schmoozing, fake smiles, and polite platitudes. He just wanted to express himself through colour, not wade through shallow conversation.
Rafayel walked toward the street, quickly checking his phone to see several texts from Caleb hyping him up and a short message from Zayne wishing him luck and reminding him to eat and hydrate. Xavier and Sylus were probably asleep, the two of them practically nocturnal at this point.
He continued down the street, the midday sun beating down from above. Thankfully, a breeze was blowing in from the sea to keep the heat at bay. There were several gulls coasting on updrafts, occasionally squawking whenever they saw food or something shiny. Rafayel wandered slowly, taking in his surroundings and enjoying the sea-salted air.
Moments later, he turned the corner next to a bustling café when something caught his eye. Near the front door hung a mid-sized painting. The canvas was dominated by deep blues and green-black teals, layered so thick in places it looked almost sculpted, like the waves were trying to claw their way out of the frame. Fractures of light were scattered across the surface, as though submerged under the roiling waves, refracted and distorted, as if the viewer were looking up from underwater.
In the center, half-obscured by shadow and motion, was the suggestion of a figure, feminine, not fully human and nearly invisible. Just the curve of a shoulder, the line of a spine, with hair drifting like squid ink in the saltwater. Rafayel couldn’t tell if they were sinking or floating, but that didn’t matter. The longer he looked, the more the water felt alive, not violent, but possessive and heavy. Like the sea was holding something. Remembering.
It wasn’t just a painting of the sea. It was a painting of being held by it. Rafayel couldn’t explain why his attention snagged on it, only that the sea in this painting felt haunting, like it knew him. His fingertips gently brushed along the ridges and valleys of the waves as he took in the fullness of each wave. He hadn’t realised he’d entered the café until someone brushed past, pulling his attention away.
The smell of sweet pastries and coffee filled the air. Soft upbeat music pumped through speakers hidden in the ceiling. There were several potted plants, small sculptures and decor that gave the place a cozy, inviting and artistic vibe. More art hung on the walls, intricate hand painted pieces alongside generic images of coffee cups or pastries. Each table was slightly different, varying in size, with mismatched chairs or sofas surrounding them.
Rafayel noted the place seemed to be popular, as even at midday the café was full of patrons either reading, working, or chatting. He decided that since he was here, he could use a coffee and joined the line of patrons waiting to order. The young brunette woman taking orders was bubbly and talkative, greeting each customer with a genuine smile and lots of energy. Behind her was a young dark haired man trying very hard not to be noticed as he brought empty mugs and plates towards the back.
Further back, near the various coffee machines, was another young woman. Her hair was cut just under her chin and dyed a deep teal with streaks of purple bleeding throughout. Rafayel watched as her hands moved through each coffee order, practiced and confident. Despite all the business, she didn’t look stressed or hurried. Steam hissed, milk frothed, and cups were filled with precision.
As she turned with a soft smile to hand a customer their order, Rafayel’s heart dropped and he nearly fell to his knees. Here she was, his bride, his heart. The woman he’s been searching for for decades, standing in a small café near the ocean, making coffee for strangers. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, his heart sinking further when she made brief eye contact and no recognition greeted him, just a small polite smile.
Rafayel’s eyes never left her figure, narrowing slightly as he studied her. He noticed several piercings lining her ears, each one a different shape and style, and a septum ring decorating her features, each enhancing her natural beauty. He never would have believed body modification was something she would want, but as they caught the light he couldn’t see her any other way. All his past memories flooded in, overlaid with this new version of her.
Where had she been? Did she remember anything about him? Was she still the woman he gave his heart to? These questions and more swirled through his mind as he continued watching. Rafayel wanted to simply drag her away and hide her in his studio to learn everything he could about this version of her, but he restrained himself.
Every interaction or smile seemed almost forced. Her smiles were small, never quite reaching her eyes, but exuded warmth and each patron left with a smile. But he could see something heavy lingering in her gaze. He kept watching her as the line moved forward, how she walked, how she shifted her weight when standing still, subtleties many wouldn’t notice, but were still the same as his memories. Though it looked as though she favoured her left side for some reason.
“Hello! I’m Tara, what can I get started for you today?” the brunette at the counter asked.
Rafayel blinked, his attention suddenly pulled away from his beloved and toward the bubbly woman at the counter. He plastered on a smile and scanned the menu quickly.
“I’ll have the honey latte, with oat milk,” he replies, “Iced, please.”
“You got it! Will that be to-go or here?” she asks.
“To-go, please.”
“Can I get a name for your order?” Tara asks.
“Rafayel,” he answers with a quick glance toward the woman behind her, hoping, in vain, that she’d recognise it.
“Great. Your total is on the screen,” Tara comments.
Rafayel pays quickly and steps to the side at Tara’s direction to wait for his latte. His attention returned to the woman filling mugs and paper cups. A few moments later, she turns and offers him his iced drink and a straw. His eyes fell briefly to the name tag clipped to her apron, Zen, a shortened version of the name he knew, before returning to her outstretched hand. Rafayel takes the drink, her fingers brushed his knuckles, barely there, but it felt like a spark under his skin. Her familiar scent drifting towards him, before she pulls her hand away.
“Thanks, cutie,” he says, with a flirty smile, “That was beautiful to watch. You’ve got good hands.”
“Thanks,” she replies with a smile, “I’ve had plenty of practice.”
Rafayel takes a sip of his drink and his eyes widen, “Wow, this is amazing.”
She chuckles, “All of our drinks are.”
“I’ve had good coffee before,” he says. “I don’t usually remember who made it. Guess you’re an exception.” Rafayel smirks with a wink.
Her cheeks flush and eyes widen slightly at his remark before turning away with a small smile and a quick farewell. She returns to her orders quickly shuffling between machines. Rafayel steps away a bit more, lingering to watch her work, aching to pull her to him, until his phone buzzes with a message in the group chat from Caleb asking about dinner. He replies with his preference as he exits the café with one last glance at his beloved, having made the decision to return to the café. As much as necessary to get her to remember him or to at least get close to her again. He’d wait to tell Sylus, at least until he knew more. He also knew the two of them would have to work harder to keep her hidden now that she was here.