Also, if you're a sucker for villains... Hoo, boy, I mean, there're certainly some villains. (Including Lucy, of course.)
I also love the sorta 'Rekindling Lost Love' tropes... which is partially why I included both the Exes as ROs in the game. (I mean, it's not the only reason, obviously, there's some pretty (read: extremely) important plot reasons for you having been married but y'know... doesn't hurt...)
Maybe this is just me but because I know him so well the though of Raf being an ass kinda makes me laugh.
Lemme put it this way: The day Raf is an asshole is the day the world ends.
Ha! Well, I'll bet they certainly had an interesting marriage, then.
This is an addiction, you need an intervention. (I'm just kidding, of course. One can never have too much Lucy in their lives! I hear she's good for the heart.)
Hmm, well, I'm afraid you'll have to wait a li'l bit for more Lucy, though, however. I just wrote one for her and one for Raf and now I should probably work on the actual update before I end up writing one for every RO (Though, in all honestly, I would love to do that... I just should probably at least finish the next update before I do since I was already away for two weeks which set it back some.)
I can't comment much on this because of my spoiler rule, but I will say this- Raf's power's limitation does actually help some with this. There have many times when he's seen things that have... scared him. But he's trying to train himself to remember that the future can be changed, that what he sees isn't set-in-stone.
Just as a quick clarification, Trixie is the prewritten/default name for the cat Raf and the MC had, since I couldn't exactly avoid mentioning her, I went ahead and just used the prewritten name. You do get to name the cat something different, however. (Also as a weird/fun side fact: The song I listened to while writing this involved a cats meow, I did not know this. It scared me when I was writing about the cat meowing and then suddenly had a cat meow sound in my ear.)
As another, shorter side-note, this one started out a lot fluffier than Lucy's did... which I find funny because it fits their personalities very well- Raf being more gentle and kind and Lucy being more wild and dramatic.
Maybe it’s because you haven’t had a day off in what feels like years. Maybe it’s because in those year-long months you’ve been working overtime most days. Maybe it’s because the window is open and the weather is nice and the birds are chirping. Maybe it’s because the entire house smells like slowly cooking pasta since Raf insisted you relax while he cooks on your day off. Maybe it’s because Trixie was bathed today and her fur is soft and she’s become a bit more than a heated, furry little ball on your stomach as you doze in and out on the bed. Or maybe it’s some combination of all those things.
Whatever it is, it’s led you to such a state of lethargy that you’re not such even an asteroid crashing into the side of your house would make you leave your bed. Beautiful, exquisite lethargy.
Lethargy that is sadly, or perhaps not so sadly, interrupted by a light rapping on the already-open door. You lift your head reluctantly from the pillow and spot Raf standing in the doorway, an amused shimmer to his eyes when he catches your eyes.
“I almost feel guilty for asking you to stand up and come eat.” He nods his head towards the kitchen, his voice carrying with it that underlying purr of laughter.
“Almost?” You ask, letting your head flop back on the pillow. “You should feel very guilty for even thinking such a thing, good sir.”
That purr grows into a more audible rumble as Raf takes a few steps towards you and the cat, “Well, I suppose I might, if I didn’t know I’d feel more guilty later not dragging you out now and letting you starve until later.” You feel your legs sink to the side a little as Raf sits on the edge of the bed, a light pat on your leg, “Now come on, sleepyhead, stand up and let’s get you some food.”
You whine a noise of protest, your stomach does feel a little empty, but the very thought of leaving your little cocoon of comfort is far, far from any current goal of yours, not to mention it involves the matter of moving Trixie off of your stomach… Which is an idea you believe she’d be about as fond of as you are of leaving the bed. “But I can’t.”
“Oh?” Raf shakes his head, you can tell that he’s trying to keep a serious face- maybe it’s even supposed to look stern, but if so then he’s failing miserably- as a smile quietly tugs at the corners of his lips, forcing them upwards even as he attempts to pull them back down into a frown… Or at least a neutral expression. “And why can’t you?”
Wordlessly you lift your hand and point to the tiny ball of fur on your stomach, still breathing softly, her own stomach rising in time with yours. Is she asleep? Perhaps, her head is tucked under her tiny paw, and curled in towards her stomach. The only indication that she might be even the tiniest bit awake is the way her ears will occasionally flick towards either your voice or Raf’s, listening peacefully to your conversation.
“You see,” You begin, “I appear to have been afflicted with a very rare disease.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Mm, it manifests itself in the form of a small cat on my stomach, and limits all mobility.” You continue, “It’s tragic, really, but I’m afraid there’s simply nothing I can do to help it. There’s no cure.”
“Oh how horrible.” Raf mocks a shocked tone, “But, you may be in luck.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, for you see,” Raf holds his arms out in a grand gesture, “I believe I have the cure.”
Quietly, Raf reaches over to Trixie, at first gently petting her head. Trixie mews in protest, a sound muffled by her own fur. You hear Raf make a soft cooing noise, calling her over. With about as much willingness to get up as you feel, Trixie lifts her sleepy head and begins to stretch out on your stomach. Raf gives her a little nudge and she hops the short distance from your stomach to the bed… Before promptly flopping on her side and sighing as she falls back into worryless slumber. “And viola,” Raf grins as he leans back, “You’re cured! It’s a miracle.”
You huff, turning onto your side with your back to Raf, “I’m not so sure. Maybe you just took any visible signs of disease. I’m still feeling it.”
You hear Raf huff behind you, “I’m not going to be able to get you up, am I?”
You hide your smirk behind the pillow, “Nope.”
“I could always just tickle you to get you up…”
“But I won’t.” Raf shakes his head, “I’ll be nice, for now.” You almost laugh at the ‘for now’ bit. Almost.
You feel the pressure in the bed shift once more, and you turn onto your other side so that you face Raf. He lays on his back, one hand resting on his stomach, the other tucked behind his head, short black hair splayed against the pillows. He catches you staring at him, and you spot that familiar crinkling by his eyes as he smiles at you, that familiar shining mirth. “Well, I can certainly see why you’re so reluctant to leave. It’s nice. I might just lay here for a while, too, if that’s alright with you.”
You lean forward and press a soft kiss to your husband’s forehead, whispering a soft ‘I love you’ against his skin.
Raf’s hand reaches up to trace the side of your jaw, gently pulling your head down to press a similar, soft kiss against your lips. “I love you too, you silly sleepyhead.” He murmurs. “Now get some rest- if I can’t make you eat, maybe I can at least make you do that.”
You flop down against the bed with a grin on your face, taking Raf’s hand in yours as you lay back down, toying absentmindedly with his fingers. Trixie, ever the attention-seeker, spots this play of affection, and chooses very quickly that she doesn’t want to left out of the pile. Huffing in protest, she stands and pads her way across the uneven bed, where, in order to gain both your attention, she steps lightly on Raf’s arm.
Raf nearly screams. He shoots up, so fast you don’t see him until he’s upright, and grabs his arm close to his chest. Trixie stumbles back in surprise, hissing at the sudden change, and you scramble to sit up as well. “Raf! What happened, did she scratch you?” You stare at his arm, but there’s no scratch marks on the clothes.
Raf, still a little wide-eyed, turns his head slowly from you to the cat, and though he ends up staring at you, his gaze seems far away.
“Raf…?” You try softly calling to him, reaching out, carefully, towards his arm.
Just as fast, Raf drops it, as if he hadn’t been guarding it close to himself just moments before, leaning away from your touch, a bashful smile on his face, ears and nose slowly tinting red. “I’m fine, I’m sorry- I… Uh…” He squints as if trying to think, or focus on something far away, “I…” You hear him mutter a soft curse under his breath.
“Rafael,” Your voice is a little more stern this time around, “What happened?”
“N-Nothing,” He winces when he stutters. “Nothing I just… I was dozing off, and she shocked me, is all.” His voice is stilted, unnatural… untruthful.
Your eyes narrow, “Why… are you lying?” You can’t hide the slight string of panic that wells up inside of you. Raf has almost never lied to you, and the few times he’s had it’s always, always been because he’s trying to surprise you with something special… But some sane piece of you is saying that such isn’t the case now.
Raf can’t hold your gaze, instead staring at the bed. He opts for silence, unable to reply. You wait, patiently, your eyes steady on his face, trying to glean what you can from his expression. Yet all you manage to find is guilt.
“I’m sorry,” He breathes, “I just… I didn’t want you to worry.”
Worry? “Raf, show me your arm.” With a reluctant sigh Raf holds it out towards you. You’re careful only to grab his hand as you slowly roll the sleeve back, and back, and back, and back.
Deep gashes run all the way along his arm, like something had raked its claws down his arm, over and over again. They’re all messily, haphazardly stitched up, like he did it himself in a hurry. They’re all red, with dried blood seeped between the sutures, and agitated around the sides- fresh. Only a day or so old. How could you not notice? For an entire day he must’ve had these! And Raf just… just went along, all day, insisting that you were the one who needed to rest.
That string of panic balls into a knot, and it keeps going and going as you roll the sleeve up more and more, trying to count how many there are, but quickly losing track. You reach his shoulder and they still go on, underneath his shirt.
You swallow, but your throat has gone dry. You hide any tremor of terror from your voice as you speak, “Raf… take your shirt off,” You have to know. You have to know how bad it is. How he could’ve hidden… all this… from you so well. So much so that you had no idea what had happened.
Raf glances away, when you let go of his hand his arm drops like a dead weight against the mattress, that guilt you’d spotted previously seems to overtake his expression. He doesn’t move.
“Raf,” You repeat, “Take off your shirt.”
“You sure…?” His voice is weak, there’s a strained, forced joking tone to it, “I mean, it’s midday and-”
“Rafael.” You end up using his full name once more, and Raf quiets down.
For a moment you think he’s not going to do it, that Raf is just going to continue to sit there guiltily. But in the end he obliges, hissing with pain as he lifts his arm, he turns his head away but you can still see him wince. You lean over and help it over his head, letting the shirt drop to the ground when you see his torso.
Deep, dark red marks goring into his skin. Angry marks, some crossed over each other as if he’d been cut multiple times in the same place. Each of them is stitched up in that similar, messy fashion, with dark purple bruises littering the few spots of skin that would’ve remained otherwise untouched. You suck in a breath, and squeeze your hands into fists around the mattress covers to keep them from shaking.
“How did… What did…” Your mouth seems to fail you, your tongue is heavy and unusable, your mind a messy bog of too many thoughts that send you into a sinking, whirling panic.
Raf spots your panic, and immediately he seems to shift into a much calmer, patient tone, “Hey, hey,” He leans over, placing his good hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into your back, “It’s okay, I’m okay, it’s okay.”
He… he has the gall to say such a thing? You slap his hand away, “No!” Your voice is a lot louder, a lot scratchier, than you anticipated, “No, you’re obviously not okay! It’s obviously not okay! You hid this from me, and I…” You slump back, a tingling numbness settling into your stomach, “I still have no idea how or why,” You really don’t want to cry right now, you really don’t. Still, you feel angry, scared tears trickle down your cheeks. Somewhere through the haze, you think you hear Trixie meowing, reacting to your distress.
Raf takes a deep breath, his eyes flickering to the side, “I got into a car accident.”
You lift your eyes, you hadn’t noticed when you started staring at the bedsheet, but apparently sometime between then your eyes fell. “An accident?” You echo.
Raf nods, his hand covering his mouth, “It… it was yesterday night, when I took the cab home, since you needed the car for your job. We were on the highway when someone tried to merge lanes and hit the side of the cab- both of us were going over the speed limit and I… we… we flipped into a ditch, over the guardrails.” He takes a shaky breath “The glass broke and when I woke up we had to crawl out of the cab, the other guy was out cold so we had to get him out… it was… bad.” He wheezes out the last word, “Really… really bad.”
“Did you go to the hospital?” You ask, eyeing the amateurish sutures.
“Yes, but…” Raf sighs, looking away with that same red-handed expression.
“I rushed them. I wanted to get home and I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to worry.” He smiles weakly, “Guess that worked great, didn’t it?”
“Worry?” There’s that word again. Normally, when Raf does things because he ‘doesn’t want you to worry’ it’s cooking dinner when you’ve stayed at work late and are exhausted, it’s giving the cat a bath in the mornings so you don’t have to force Trixie into the water, it’s been a sweet, caring word. But now you’re wishing it didn’t exist. “Of course I’m going to worry! Raf, I want to worry!” You throw your arms out wide, “I want to take care of you! To help you! Raf, I worry all the time! I worry when you’re sad, or stressed, or restless. I worry when you feel sick, or when look tired. Hell, I even sometimes worry when you’re happy because I don’t want to screw it up somehow! I worry because I love you! Because I want you to be happy and healthy!”
Raf stares at you, but he remains silent.
“Let me worry.” Your arms drop, any fire in you having burnt itself into shaking embers, “Let me love you.”
He looks away, “I know, I should. I want to… I… I’m sorry.”
You quietly reach over, turning his chin towards you, “It’s okay, just don’t lie to me again, alright? Tell me the truth. Tell me when something like this happens.”
Raf’s throat bobs as he swallow, he nods, “I promise.” His eyes are downcast. “I promise.”
“So no more lies?”
“No more lies.”
“Good. I love you… You know that, right?”
Even though he doesn’t lift his eyes, you see his mouth quirk upwards in a soft smile. “I know. I love you, too.”