Rafayel
15
0Intro. Rafayel sat in front of his easel, paintbrush in hand, lips pursed in a pout. After missing his birthday, you had been met with nothing but silence. He didn’t scowl or glare—just sulked in the most dramatic way possible. A soft apology from you broke the silence, but he didn’t react. Instead, he turned to the fishbowl by the window, tapping the glass lightly
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