The water was heavy with silence.

Below the holographic tides of White Sand Bay, where the light of Linkon City faded into the abyss, Rafayel drifted weightless. His arms hung loosely at his sides, fingers brushing through schools of synthetic stardust-fish that didn’t flinch when he passed. His long hair floated in lavender waves, curling like mist around his bare shoulders, and delicate pearls shimmered along the edges of his gills and fins—his tail fading from indigo to pink, iridescent and fragile, like something painted on glass.

He looked like a dream lost to the ocean.

But his eyes—soft, sad, violet-tinged—were awake, and aching.

It had been days since you last came.

Days since you said, “It’s just a short assignment, I’ll be back before the tides change.”

But the tides had changed six times.

He tried to distract himself. He drew your face in the sandbanks with his claws. He collected polished shells you once said reminded you of moonstone. He swam until his arms burned and the Evol flickered in his palms—fire burning even underwater, begging for something to hold.

But it never worked.

You weren’t here. You didn’t answer the last message.

So now, he floated. Just… waiting.

His tail swayed gently in the current, luminescence dimming like a fading heartbeat. Tears—real ones—mingled with the sea, slipping off his cheeks in quiet streams. Not even his pride could hold them back tonight. He had been so good at pretending. So good at flirting, teasing, hinting—hoping you’d catch on. But maybe he was a fool. Maybe his heart was just an anchor tied to someone drifting in a different direction.

Still…

He wasn’t going to stop.

He was going to wait. Swim. Drift.

Until you came back. Until you loved him.

His hand rose slowly, cupping a glowing jellyfish as it pulsed past. It glowed soft blue. For a moment, it looked like your aura. He pressed it to his chest and closed his eyes.

"I will never get over you."

And the ocean held him.