Chapter Text
You were buzzing in anticipation, waiting for him. Smoothing the non-existent wrinkles on your dress for the umpteenth time – you’d chosen the one he picked out some time ago. Hand in hand skipping through stores on a cobbled street, blue and purple mixing on an iridescent canvas flowing around you like the waves crashing on the shore, glimmering as the sun kissed its surface. Tucking your hair behind your ear and untucking it again, you reached for your phone.
6:37
- Are you on your way home?
Nothing.
‘He’s on his way’ , you assure yourself as the chatter of people fades away, the beach empties, he’ll come just in time, it’ll be perfect – just the two of you. You’d planned this and when something is so well organised it’s supposed to last, right?
The table was set, white tablecloth swaying with the gentle breeze, basket with food you’d prepared sitting half open, wildflowers scattered across letters – each one written with tears threatening to ruin the ink, sealed with a kiss and wrapped in your scent. They documented your year together, from the initial shyness as you walked into his gallery, tired and confused, looking for something to distract you from the countless sleepless nights your work had caused, to kissing under the moonlight, clothes half-soaked in the salty water, feet covered with the golden sand. You wanted to go unnoticed, you hid – he found. He swiftly swooped in your quiet world with his nose upturned at your ‘critique’, his confident smirk and his hand, ready to take yours and prove you wrong.
Rafayel refused to leave in the months after your first meeting (not that you’d let him), he plagued your thoughts and managed to fish out every insecurity you had about being with someone like him – so refined, well-known, perfect where you were not. Or so you thought.
7:12
Silence.
The food was getting cold, you were actively fighting against the wind, which had replaced the breeze ruffling your hair with the scene of you chasing after falling letters, scattered shells and wilting flowers. It wasn’t anticipation anymore; your stomach twisted with the possibility of being forgotten. Surely, he wouldn’t, everyone forgot you, but not Rafayel, never him. You couldn’t take playing the guessing game anymore, you dialled his number.
Ring ring ring
No answer.
His voice came through on the third call. Third.
- Raf, where are you?
- At the movies.
- At the movies? What, ……..why?
- With Miss Bodyguard, I promised to watch that new movie with her, remember?
Remember. You did, you remembered, but he didn’t. Your feet sunk into the sand, you’d be glad if it could swallow you whole.
He called your name. You were shivering, you didn’t remember it being so cold just a minute ago.
- Have fun.
- Cutie, are you upset? Did I –
You hung up. You felt sick, your head was spinning, and you wanted to throw your guts up, to hell if you ruin the surprise, there wasn’t someone to appreciate it anyway.
You felt ridiculous. Of course he was with HER. The artist and the muse, the sea god and his beloved bride. You knew about his their past, but you still foolishly hoped his future was yours.
He didn’t say he’d choose her; he didn’t leave you, but he pulled away, painted portraits of another while you reached for his empty side of the bed. Dates became fewer and far between with the excuse of exhibitions, work, no time – but she was allowed to invade his space, always lingering, always there, while he worked, while he presented, while he was away. Her work as his bodyguard, a poorly constructed attempt to keep her close. You scoffed through the tightness in your throat.
Your lover didn’t shatter your dreams, but you so hoped he would – tell you, you don’t compare to her confidence, vision or mind, that her voice sounded sweeter as she called for him, laced with memory, with years of longing. You wish he didn’t let you believe that you were worthy of his love.
All of these thoughts raced through your head as you were methodically placing everything back in the baskets you had brought it over with. All your senses were screaming to run, to hide your sorrow, as hot tears streamed down your face. The makeup you spent hours on was ruined, the wind made a nest of your hair, your nails were digging bloody crescents into the soft skin of your palms.
The beach used to calm your nerves, now it only reminded you of him and still you wished to drown. Maybe you’d wake up from this nightmare, or you’d die cradled in what was most dear to him.
Of course this couldn’t make you not love him, couldn’t pull your bewitched heart out of his cruel grasp.
Table falling over, letters buried under the sand like useless cigarette buds and white cloth flying towards the trashing sea. Left it all behind and you hoped and prayed to whatever god would listen, to help you do the same with him.
Being alone was never bothersome until he came into the picture and shattered the frame, painted over the organised print in bold colour - messy, disturbing, exciting. Rafayel ruined your isolation, replacing it with his infuriatingly sweet presence, his essence clinging to your very being, his voice drowning out your thoughts. Not now. Now you would be forced to listen as you subject yourself to the harshest of judgments and you would be left to unravel, this time – alone.