We Are Bulletproof

Why is everybody leaving?

Why is Prince Niall looking at me funny?

When's Prince 🐝 coming back?

Do you think he'll like the new mug I got him?

Is your back okay?

@Rhys McCabe

Birdy Bee Coffee Cafe—BBCC, as some (okay just Raphael) called it—was a quaint, cute, modern, trendy little place. It caught Raphael's eye immediately with its colorful decor and he couldn't help visiting it often. So often that one of the baristas got to chatting with him, and then let him behind the counter to try out the espresso machine, and then taught him how to make leaves with milky foam on the surface. With money not being much of an issue for them, he already tried out one of everything on the menu during his frequent visits, and of course—he had a lot of espresso.

So when he told Rhys that the coffee here was good, he knew what he was talking about!

But his chances at a date were initially dashed by his impetuous departure from the group. That... couldn't really be helped. Raphael wanted a date with Rhys but he needed freedom a sight more. It just happened that his conversation with Professor Jack took a turn in that direction, before he had a chance to hang out with Rhys and... Well... Here they were.

Or were they?

Were they here?

Where was here anyway, because Raphael was thoroughly confused. He thought Rhys was angry—which proved to be correct. And then he wrote that letter hoping to make everything better and he sent it off by private Seek-Me, not realizing that it tried to deliver the letter to the apartment first. But eventually the letter landed in Rhys' hands so he had no real reason to suspect that it had been intercepted. The glaringly obvious conclusion to be drawn about Raphael was that he wasn't exactly bright. He was not the brightest bulb in the package and he often failed to think his actions through. Unfortunately, not knowing that the letter had already been read meant that he was in danger but even so, he felt that his new friends would protect him.

Professor Jack promised and Brayden backed that up. Marge was even guarding him—he felt safe! And when Rhys finally responded to him, he was elated. He showed Marge the message with a bright grin and although abuse was slung by both parties—Margie didn't take well to being called an idiot or a pervert—Raphael was too happy to care. "A real date Margie!" He crowed as Marge patted him on the head approvingly, having alternately coached and yelled at him through the entire exchange. "And we're going to have espresso! And—ooh! Play footsies under the table!"

"Great." Marge drew out the word with a slight roll of the eyes. "But you remember what I told you, right? Get him to the park, into the little nature walk."

"Oh! Yes. Of course Margie! I'll get him there, and... um. Why did you want him there again?" Raphael distractedly fiddled with the clasp of his messenger bag, which held that precious gift he wanted to give to Rhys.

"To talk." Something about Marge's smile made him feel a little anxious. "Just to have a little chat, no big deal. Now off you go~ Have your little date~! Kiss and make up~!"

Then she all but pushed him out the door, where he stood in the courtyard sort of confused. Raphael glanced toward Professor Jack's apartment, wondering if he ought to let him know where he was going, but earlier Marge said they were busy... (And what would two lovers be doing when they were alone? Things that didn't bear interrupting! Raphael wasn't about to be That Guy either!)

With a smile that was very much un-Fallen-like, he set off across the courtyard and out of the building, into the street. The cafe wasn't terribly far away—just far away enough to help him settle his nerves. But then he caught sight of the back of a head with familiar dark curls and the nerves flared up worse than ever. Now, Raphael didn't think that Rhys would actually kill him, but he might... he might make good on that promise to throttle him. (And then kiss him? Maybe?)

As he approached, his heart rate kicked up to jackhammer going at full speed. If—If Rhys was going to throttle him, then he had to get his kiss in quick!

So Raphael sorta dove at Rhys—His Majesty the third Prince of the Kingdom of the Fallen—and planted one on him without much warning!

Raf was having the time of his life.

Never had he seen such a wonderful place full of wonderful things. Old things, yes—worn things, definitely. But everything he laid eyes on or touched had emotions and memories attached to them, which made them precious. He wandered up and down Brayden Smith's apartment, touching everything. Everything. And anything his curious fingertips brushed evoked an emotion. A teacup made him feel the warmth of a grandmother's smile; a fleece blanket brought with it the sensation of a mother's hug. The worn coffee table sitting before a threadbare couch had been restored with loving care. Even a chipped bowl brought an image of a young Brayden Smith being comforted by his mother, who filled it with soup and handed it to him with words of comfort and support.

Mild empath abilities came in handy on days like these, where there was so much to explore. Raf had been all around town touching things, experiencing the stories behind them, but most of them were quite plain and uninteresting. Brayden Smith's things were like a treasure trove. If he ever wondered what it was like to grow up loved and wanted, this was the place to immerse himself—in someone else's memories.

But there were painful things, too. A cracked little snowglobe told the story of a careless lover who swept it off the bookshelf and didn't bother to apologize for it. That worn book sitting way off in the corner—the last book that Brayden Smith's father gave him before he passed away. The manuscript sitting in a desk drawer spoke of hesitation and ambitions not realized.

He curled up on the couch with the fleece blankie over his lap and began to read the story that Brayden Smith had written about a place called Darkwell, while Marge sat in the loveseat texting with somebody. Raf had briefly been inspected by her earlier, and then she shouted at him and shook him like a ragdoll for about a minute, before telling him to amuse himself while they waited for someone called 'Charles' to come by. It was all very mysterious but Raf chalked that up to her being a seer and a witch—witches were notoriously... moody.

"What're you reading?" Marge asked, lifting her head from her phone.

"I think it's Brayden's book! A book he wrote, I mean. Look." He held it up; on the cover was written WHITE RABBIT FALLS by Brayden Smith.

Marge took it from him with a frown. "You shouldn't snoop through his stuff. Don't think he wants us reading his book," she muttered even as she flipped through it and scanned through a few of the pages. Then she slowed and began to read more carefully, before passing it back to Raf. "Tell me that doesn't sound like Jack. That paragraph right there."

A man sat at the lip of the well. Or... he didn't so much sit there as he did sort of lay himself out. Splay himself, really, along the broad stone rim, with a pipe dangling from his mouth. As soon as he heard Quentin approaching, he took the pipe out of his mouth and blew out a curl of smoke. "Hello." His voice was as smooth as the black silk robes that draped oh-so-artistically across his long frame. It looked as though every fold and every pleat had been so meticulously arranged as to leave no one in doubt that he was a work of art and desired to be viewed as such.

Raf read it through twice. "Oh! It does! He's even wearing a robe, just like Professor Jack!" Laughing, he scanned down the page, and then gasped. "Margie! Margie I think he's the dark wizard! Look look!"

Marge came to sit beside him and together they read the passages, pausing once in a while to comment on how much the dark wizard was definitely Professor Jack, and how they speculated that the dark wizard and innocent, shy Quentin were going to end up together. Which, as it turned out, they did—several chapters later, in a steamy scene that made Raf giggle a little immaturely into his sleeve, and Marge let out an impressed whistle.

"Bee's got some imagination, doesn't he?" She remarked as she flipped the page.

"Do you think... they're doing that right now?" Raf's cheeks heated up at the thought but he was also grinning a touch foolishly. It was easy to see that Professor Jack loved Brayden Smith! Why, just earlier, they were sitting together as close as he and Marge were now. And Brayden Smith had been awfully nice to him, chatting to him and making him feel welcomed. He even tried to persuade Professor Jack to keep his promise, something that produced a favorable impression of him with Raf.

Raf liked Brayden Smith; there was something wonderfully understated about him, that one would miss at first glance. If Raf passed him in the street, he didn't think he would look twice. But having experienced his kindness and having spoken to him, he realized that Brayden Smith was really quite princely. And of course, Professor Jack was tall and handsome, just like the Fallen King who sired him, flashy but also princely after his own fashion. They seemed suited to each other, or perhaps it was their obvious attraction to one another that produced such an impression. Either way, Raf could see how Brayden Smith could be considered dangerous to the King's cause.

"Wouldn't put it past them," Marge muttered with a mysteriously dark look at the door, as if she could see beyond it and into Professor Jack's apartment.

"I don't think even Rhys could dislike Brayden Smith," mused Raf to himself as he turned his gaze back to the page and continued reading. He let out a low gasp. "Ooh Margie! Oh no! I think Quentin's going to find out his lover's the dark wizard in this chapter!" His hands flew to his cheeks as they read on.

"Who's Rhys?"

"He's... he was... my best friend. I think."

"You think?" Marge looked at him with an amused smile. "Don't you know?"

Raf sighed. "I thought I did..."

"Oh my God, not another pining little gay boy," groaned Marge.

Professor Jack, when are you coming back to school? :(
I miss you very much.

@Jack Ripley

(AHA! When you want to interact with Jack but you can't but you still find a way anyway. <3)

I think I just got set up and then immediately stood up

Within the span of about
10 minutes

😖

@Rhys McCabe