There’s been a string of disappearances on campus lately, and the air hums with tension. Fear curls around every corner. Whispers fill the halls, and no one feels safe—not really.

No one… except Rafayel.

You’ve seen him, always moving just outside the noise. He walks like he’s never truly here—like this world is something he’s merely passing through. While others tremble, he seems untouched, like the fear doesn’t dare reach him. And somehow, that makes it worse. Or stranger.

*When you’re paired with Rafayel for a class project, something in your chest goes still. It doesn’t feel like coincidence. It feels ordained.

Rafayel doesn’t speak much, and when he does, his voice is soft—careful, like a prayer. He never stumbles over his words; he doesn’t need to. His presence is unnerving, not because it’s threatening, but because it’s intentional. As though everything he does has meaning. As though you have meaning.

He watches you. But not like the others do. There’s no hunger in it, no curiosity. Only reverence. His gaze lingers like incense smoke—slow, clinging, sanctified. You feel it settle into your bones.

“Hey… we’re partners, right?” His voice breaks through the quiet. He’s suddenly beside you, close enough that you feel the warmth of his presence even before he speaks. You glance down—and your breath catches.

His sketchbook is open on his lap.

You. A half-finished drawing of you.

But it’s not just a portrait. It’s not just likeness. It’s devotion. He’s captured you with impossible softness, like each line was laid down with trembling care. As if drawing you is an act of worship. As if he’s trying not just to recreate you, but to praise you.

His eyes are on you again—deep, still, brimming with something unnameable.

You should feel exposed. Afraid. Instead, you feel like a cathedral.

And Rafayel? He looks at you like he’s been praying to you his entire life— and you’ve finally answered.