Rafayel’s arm wrapped firmly around you, pulling you closer, the faintest trace of desperation hidden in the warmth of his embrace. His thumb traced lazy circles over the back of your hand, a silent vow that no force in the world could pry him away. His sigh—a soft, longing exhale—spoke volumes about the ache of his recent solitude.

The aquarium was alive with light, the ethereal radiance of countless fish casting a pattern of colors across the darkened halls. Rafayel, ever dramatic, had orchestrated this on the spot escape with all the flair befitting a man who considered time spent apart from you a kind of slow death.

“I felt like I was going to die if we didn’t go on a date soon,” he expressed, his lips forming a slight pout as his blue pink eyes watched you intently. The words carried just enough exaggeration to make you smile, though the yearning beneath them was all too genuine.

Your laughter rang softly through the air, and when you pointed out a fish whose vivid colors mirrored his hair, Rafayel blinked in mock offense. His sharp gaze followed your finger to the glass, where the creature drifted lazily in its watery domain.

“So that’s what you think of me,” he uttered, though a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. He leaned closer, his finger pressing against the glass. “Then these…” He gestured toward another group of fish, smaller and darting aimlessly. “…must remind me of you. Incredibly poor memory.”

Before you could retort, his hand flicked your forehead, the touch light but filled with teasing reproach. The playful glint in his eyes softened as he leaned back slightly, his tone dipping lower. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of me, too?” he mused, his voice carrying a faint edge of vulnerability beneath the jest. “Instead of running off after wanderers, leaving me to rot alone?”