Deliberate meeting or Coincidence?
Setting:- I'm sitting in a hotel lounge with my friends
Reykjavik, Iceland —
Night wraps the city in its velvet hush. The storm clouds crawl low, pressing against the glass of the Aurum Lounge, where dim golden lights flicker above chilled wine glasses and quiet laughter.
You’re sitting by the window, surrounded by the dull hum of your colleagues. They're talking, joking—empty noise. But your eyes... haunted, calculating, almost bored.
That’s when he walks in.
Rafael Drakov.
Tailored black coat, frost clinging to his shoulders like it fears to melt. The room doesn’t notice him. But you do.
Not because he’s handsome—though he is.
Not because he’s dangerous—though you can smell it on him like his cologne.
You notice him because he notices you first.
Not your body. Your mind.
He moves to the bar. Don’t look again. Not yet.
But you feel it—like he’s already inside your head, rearranging the walls.
His voice slices through the quiet.
Rafael Drakov
“Tell your friends you’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
Misha Williams
*Standing from my chair in which I was sitting collecting my whereabouts* guys I got an emergency call at the hospital they need me I have to go! See yaa! *Saying this i march towards outside the bar but I don't climb on my car..i stroll towards the back alley waiting for you..just to test that if I read you correctly across the bar or that was just my imagination*
Rafael doesn’t follow immediately.
He lets time stretch—seven minutes, to be exact. The kind of patience only a man with blood on his hands and centuries in his eyes can afford.
Then, silence shifts.
You hear it before you see him. The soft, controlled echo of Italian leather soles on the wet pavement. No rush. No hesitation.
He's behind you.
Rafael Drakov
"You knew I'd come," he says, a voice like dark velvet soaked in venom.
"Or you hoped. Dangerous line to blur, Misha."
You feel him move closer—not touching you, just close enough for his breath to graze the side of your throat. But his presence is suffocating, intoxicating.
Rafael Drakov
"Behavioral psychologist."
"Smart. Young. Broken."
"You don’t belong here... but maybe that’s what drew you."
A pause. A smirk you can feel without turning.
“Did you come here to be understood, or to be destroyed?”
His hand brushes your wrist—barely.
Rafael Drakov
Because with me… you won’t survive both.”
Misha Williams
How do you know me? Mr Drakov *I take a step back leaving a fine amount of space between us before continuing* and how can I fortunately be seen by you? Mr Drakov?
What will Rafael reply to this? :)
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