SYNOPSIS & WC─•❥[7.4k] During your sophomore spring semester of college, you and Rafe navigate a volatile, codependent relationship
WARNING(S) & A/N─•❥ swearing, mentions of past suicide attempt, substance abuse, mental illness, toxic relationship, co-dependency, not sure how i feel abt this
YOU were a sophomore now, nearly two years into a psychology degree that you initially chose just to understand the mess of your own mind—and his.
But college didn’t have the same rules as Kildare. There were no Pogues or Kooks here—there were just kids like you trying to survive early lectures, cheap food, and the freedom of being entirely on your own. The circles you had spent your whole life keeping separate from began to bleed into one another.
Topper and Kelce had followed Rafe down to school, neither having a real personality without him. But now, they sat at the same tables in dive bars as Kat and Janae, your roommates. And when your friends watched you and Rafe together, they finally began to understand. Understand why the two of you were so inseparable.
They saw it in the way Rafe didn't have to put on his typical show when you were in the room. They saw it in the way his entire posture shifted—the tightness of his broad shoulders dropping the second you slid into the booth beside him. He was different now, less unpredictable. The dark circles that used to carve themselves under his eyes throughout high school had faded and he had swapped the white lines on coffee tables for hours in the gym, channeling the rage that Ward had gifted him.
He looked older, bigger, his jawline sharper, but his eyes were calmer.
You were doing better, too. At least, on the surface. You were getting out more, you went to the beach, you went to thrift stores, and you didn't spend days on end staring blankly at the ceiling of your dorm room while the world moved on without you, mindlessly flipping through the limited ways of making your mother even the least bit proud. You were social and you felt alive. For the first time in a long time.
But you were both still deeply flawed underneath it all.
The truth was, the distance hadn't healed the scars.
Rafe was still a slave to his father's voice. Every time a text from Ward popped up on his phone, or every time his dad called to lecture him, his progress crumbled. The gym wasn't enough then, and he would slide right back into a bottle of whatever, drinking until his words slurred and he'd forgotten about whatever his father spat at him that day.
And you? You had stopped taking your meds. You hated the way they made you feel like you were living underwater—how it flattened the peaks and valleys of your emotions until you were nothing but a shell of whatever you called ‘yourself’. The exact shell your mother loved. But she wasn’t here. So, you dropped the pills in the trash every time a new prescription was mailed, replacing them with something more recreational. Weed didn't make you numb, but it made the sharp edges of the world fuzzy enough that they didn't cut you when you bumped against them.
You kept it hidden from him for a while, knowing Rafe cared for you, probably more than himself. Because he was dependent on you. If you were okay, then so was he. But you couldn't keep anything hidden from Rafe for long. Especially, when your dealer quits.
The argument happened one evening in your dorm room. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your fingers nervously tapping against your kneecaps, while Rafe paced the length of the floor.
"No," Rafe said, his voice flat. He didn't look at you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his gray gym shorts. "No, I'm not getting it for you."
You let out a sharp laugh, sitting up straighter. "Are you serious, Rafe? It’s literally just a text.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m just asking you to grab me an eighth. It's not a big deal..."
"It is a big deal," he snapped, finally stopping his pacing to glare down at you. "You're supposed to be taking your meds. The ones the doctor gave you."
You stood up, stepping directly into his space. "They make me feel like a fucking zombie. I can't think, I can't..." You huffed, trailing off. "The weed actually helps me sleep at night.” You snarled, turning away from him. “Why are you being like this? You’ll get anything for anyone else, but not for your best friend? You’d buy a bag for Kelce or Topper without a single question, but the second I ask, you turn into some kind of moral saint?"
"Because Kelce and Topper don't—" Rafe yelled, his jaw twitching as he took a step closer, towering over you as he cut himself off, emphasizing his words to you as if you were a child. "You're trying to replace medication with weed, and you think I'm just gonna sit back and let you do that? You think I'm gonna be the one who hands it to you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was in a therapy session, right now," you spat, your vision blurring with a sudden rush of angry tears. "You replace much needed therapy with a bottle every single time your dad calls but you're gonna lecture me about smoking? What's the fucking difference?"
Rafe turned, his face turning a dark shade of crimson, your words clearly striking a nerve. The mention of his father hurt, and for a second, the air between you was so tense.
"The difference," Rafe started, his voice dangerously low. "is that I don't care if I destroy myself. But I care if you do."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should work on that," You snapped, shooting the boy a sharp look. "Worry about your fucking self..."
He stared at you, his breathing heavy, a look of bitter defeat washed over his features. He yanked his hands out of his pockets, turning on his heel.
"You want it so bad? Get your own shit," he muttered, marching across the small room, grabbing the doorknob, and yanking it open. A second later, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him with a force that rattled the posters on your walls.
You stood in the silence of your room, your heart pounding with your hands balled into fists at your sides.
"Get my own shit?" you muttered, stomping around your room. "Fine."
IT took you less than twenty-four hours to find a new source. In a college town, finding marijuana wasn't exactly a hard task. You asked a guy in one of your classes, who pointed you toward a sophomore named Dominic.
Dominic was the exact opposite of Rafe. He was easygoing and alarmingly laid-back, and he lived in an off-campus apartment that smelled of incense and take-out. He had curly brown hair that fell into his eyes, a lazy smile, and an effortless charm.
The first time you went to his place to buy, you expected a quick, awkward transaction. Instead, Dominic handed you a glass of water, sat down on his worn couch, and asked you about yourself.
"Psychology?" he smiled, rolling a joint. "Dangerous.” He hummed. “You're gonna start analyzing me, aren't you?"
"Maybe," you murmured, letting the unfamiliar ease of the room settle over you. "Or maybe I just wanna figure out why everyone is so messed up."
"Fair enough," Dominic laughed, lighting up and offering it to you.
And over the next few weeks, Dominic went from your dealer to your friend. You found yourself walking over to his apartment even when you didn't need anything. He was cool because he didn't know your past, or anything about you really. Only what you cared to share. With Dominic, you could just be a normal college girl, laughing at stupid reels and smoking on his balcony while the sun went down.
Though, Rafe and you eventually made up, because you always did. The separation never lasted more than a few days before you were dragged back into each other's orbit. A muttered apology from him in the parking lot of the gym, a quiet apology from you, and you were back to sitting side-by-side in bars with your friends.
But you didn't tell him about Dominic.
And you definitely didn't tell him you were still smoking.
THAT revelation happened weeks later at a house party. The house belonged to some senior lacrosse players, and it was packed to the brim, the air inside suffocating, the bass from the speakers vibrating violently through the floorboards.
You had arrived with your entire group—Topper, Kelce, Kat, Janae, and Rafe. For the first hour, everything felt normal. Rafe stayed close to you, his large hand occasionally resting on the small of your back to guide you through the dense crowd, a barrier between you and the sweaty bodies of strangers. He was drinking a beer, looking relaxed, laughing at something Topper was saying.
But then, the house became too much. The walls felt like they were closing in, the noise turned into a nagging buzz in your ears and, suddenly, you needed air.
You slipped away while Rafe was distracted, navigating the crowded hallway until you found the back exit leading to a dimly lit side yard. The night air hit your skin, a much appreciated relief.
A voice caught you off guard. You turned to see Dominic sitting on an upturned crate near the overgrown bushes, a glowing ember hovering between his fingers. A relaxed smile spread across your face as you walked over to him.
"Hey," you sat down on the low concrete step beside him. "Didn't expect you were gonna be here. I didn’t think these things were your scene."
"I go where the crowds are, gotta follow the money." Dominic murmured, taking a drag before handing the joint to you. "You look like you could use a hit."
You sighed, taking it gratefully and bringing it to your lips. You inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill your lungs.
But inside the house, Rafe’s entire demeanor had changed the second he realized you were gone. He turned around, his eyes scanning the sea of faces, his chest tightening with that panic that always gripped him when you were nowhere to be found.
"Hey, you see where she went?" Rafe asked, cutting off Kelce mid-sentence as he was talking to some girl.
"Who?” He asked, Rafe cocking an impatient eyebrow. “Oh, she probably went to the bathroom, man, chill," Kelce muttered, taking a sip of his drink and returning to his convo.
But Rafe couldn’t. He pushed past everyone as he checked the kitchen, the hallways, his irritation and anxiety rising with every second that passed.
He threw open the back door, stepping out into the shadows of the side yard, his eyes darting around until they locked onto the corner by the bushes, his blood running entirely cold.
There you were, sitting in the dark, your head tilted back against the brick wall, a plume of grey smoke escaping your lips. And next to you was a guy he had never seen before in his life.
He marched across the grass, his face contorted into a terrifying expression of fury. Before you could even register the sound of footsteps, your head turning mere inches in his direction, a large hand descended into your space, violently snatching the joint right out from between your fingers.
"What the fuck?!" you gasped, your eyes flying open as you looked up.
Rafe stood over you, chest heaving with his jaw clenched. He dropped the joint onto the dirt, crushing it beneath the sole of his shoe.
Dominic blinked, thoroughly high and completely caught off guard by the sudden outburst from the guy in front of him. He looked between Rafe’s glare and your furious expression, tilting his head in confusion.
"Whoa, man...," Dominic muttered, holding his hands up defensively as he looked at you, his voice lazy. "Is he your boyfriend or somethin’?"
The question hung in the air, neither you nor Rafe saying a word. You both just sighed, looking at Dominic, before your eyes snapped to each other.
Rafe’s chest rose and fell, his lips parting slightly, but no sound came out.
You broke the stare first, your face hardening into a look of annoyance. You didn't want to do this here. You didn't want a scene in front of hundreds of people. Hell, you didn’t want to do this at all.
"Dick," you muttered, standing up and brushing the dirt off your clothes. You didn't look at Rafe as you brushed right past him, heading down the dark gravel driveway toward the street, wanting nothing more than to leave.
"Hey!” Rafe called, following behind. “Stop!"
His voice boomed down the empty street. You kept your pace fast, your heels clicking sharply against the asphalt, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. You could hear his heavy footsteps catching up to you.
Suddenly, his hand wrapped around your upper arm. His grip wasn't meant to hurt, but it was firm, heavy, manhandling you to stop and look at him.
His touch was the last straw as you whipped around, pushing hard at his chest with both hands, forcing him back a step.
"Get off me!" you shrieked, your voice trembling with a mixture of adrenaline and frustration.
"Then stop walking away from me!" he shouted back, stepping right back into your space, his face inches from yours under the yellow glow of a streetlamp. "What the hell were you doing? And who the fuck was that guy—"
"His name is Dominic, and he's my friend." you fired back. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Your friend? The guy selling you drugs is your friend?" Rafe barked. He grabbed your shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater, his eyes wild.
“What're you, an informant?" You shot back. "Yeah, he is, Rafe. I am allowed to have those outside of you.” You retorted, snatching away from him. “You’re making a big deal of nothing—"
“What the fuck is ‘nothing’ to you, exactly?” He cut you off, pressing his fingers to his temple. “You have clinical depression.” He emphasized, your eyes going wide. “Or do you forget that? What if the weed makes it worse—"
"Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “and keep your voice down! There are people everywhere, Rafe! Anyone could hear you—"
"I don't give a shit!" he told you, though he lowered his pitch slightly, his chest heaving as he leaned into your space. "...Look, I'm scared that, one day, when you come down from a high, it’ll be worse for you than it is for most people. I know you think you're just having fun, but you're... you're playing with fire, and you're doing it with some random dude—"
"Oh, look at you," you laughed bitterly. "You're the last person to talk to me about drugs. Who kept you in line for years? I did! So don't you stand there and act like you have some moral high ground over me smoking a joint!"
Rafe huffed, a frustrated sound escaping his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away for a second before snapping his gaze back to you, his eyes narrowing.
"Fine. Whatever. You want to talk about the past? Great," he sneered, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "But what about now? What about that Dominic guy? You're hanging out with random guys now? Is that what we're doing?"
"Why do you care so much who I hang out with?" you challenged, crossing your arms. "You hate when I hang out with guys, period. Every time a guy even breathes in my direction, you look like you want to kill him."
Rafe didn't deny it, but he didn't address your words either. "I don't know what's going on with you lately. You're…careless."
"I'm careless?" you let out a sharp laugh. "Because I'm actually trying to live my life the way I want? You think you're some kind of saint now just because you quit sniffing lines? News flash—you're not."
"And I did it because you asked!" Rafe snapped, rendering you completely silent. He stared at you, his chest heaving, eyes wide and vulnerable. "Exactly," He continued, his voice cracking slightly as he stepped closer, his hands hovering near your face before dropping back to his sides. "So why can't you just do the same for me when all I'm trying to do is look out for you? I changed everything because you told me we had enough problems. I stopped the coke because you asked me to. Why can't you just listen to me for once?"
You stared at him, your throat tight, a wave of guilt fighting with your pride. You narrowed your eyes, trying to harden your heart against the look of desperation in his eyes. "You listen to me one time and all of a sudden, what, I owe you?" you scoffed, your voice trembling.
"I listen to you all the time—" he fired back, exasperated.
"Half," you corrected sharply.
"I do whatever you want all the time!" Rafe shouted, his arms gesturing wildly between the two of you.
The silence settled over again, neither of you speaking—just heaving in front of each other. He was right, and you knew it. Since the moment you moved to college, Rafe had been almost a completely different person than who he’d become. He had done the impossible—conquered his demons all because you had looked at him with tears in your eyes and asked him to. But, right now, he was entirely unwilling to admit the deeper truth— that he couldn't stomach the sight of you with other men.
He hated the way guys had been flocking toward you recently, attracted to the bright, social light you were finally letting show. It upset him, selfishly beyond words, because he liked to be the only one who knew how to guide you through the dark.
Rafe let out a long, shaky breath, the fight draining out of him, leaving only exhaustion.
"Look," he muttered, looking down at his sneakers before locking his eyes onto yours. "Fine. If you want the weed so bad... I'll get it for you. From my dealer. I'll buy it, I'll bring it to you. But…promise me you’ll stop talking to that guy.” Rafe requested. “I don't want you getting laced or some shit.” He defended. “Deal?"
You stared at him, stunned by the sudden compromise, but more so by the lengths he would go to just to remove another man from your life.
"Fine, I'll take the weed from your guy," you said softly, your voice small. "But Dominic is my friend, Rafe. And you can't just dictate who I talk to."
You didn't wait for his response, turning around and walking back toward the house to rejoin the party, leaving him standing alone under the streetlamp, his fists clenched deep in his pockets.
WEEKS passed, and the ‘compromise’ did nothing to calm Rafe’s jealousy. If anything, it made it worse.
True to his word, he dropped a small plastic baggie on your desk every two weeks, never asking questions, his face flat whenever he did it.
And despite the conversation, you didn't completely cut Dominic off. He was in your major, your classes, and you saw him in the courtyard in passing.
One afternoon, Rafe was walking across the campus quad after a workout, a gym bag slung over his shoulder, when his eyes locked onto the stone benches near the library.
You were sitting in the sunlight, your head thrown back as a laugh escaped your lips. And next to you was Dominic, leaning over, showing you something on his phone, his shoulder brushing against yours.
Rafe didn't even register the movement of his own legs as he stormed across the grass, his face thunderous. Before you could finish your sentence, Rafe’s large hand gripped your elbow, pulling you up from the bench with jarring force. It wasn’t harsh or painful, but firm enough that you could tell he was upset.
"Hey," Rafe said, his voice dropping. "We gotta go.”
“Topper needs help with his truck.”
“Topper's truck got towed last night—”
"He got it back. It...won't start."
"What the hell does that have to do with m—"
"Rafe, what the hell?" you stumbled, pulling your arm out of his grip, shooting an embarrassed glance at Dominic who was now several feet away and whose smile had instantly vanished.
"Nice seeing you, man," Rafe shot a cold look the boy’s way as he practically dragged you down the concrete path, away from the benches.
"Stop it!" you yanked yourself away once you were far enough into the shadows. "What is wrong with you? I was just talking to him!"
"I told you I don't trust that guy," Rafe growled, his jaw ticking as he loomed over you. "You said you’d stay away from him."
“I actually explicitly remember not agreeing to that,” you hissed. "Okay, seriously, give me the real reason for all of this, Rafe," you pushed, stepping closer, staring directly into his eyes, demanding the truth that had been hovering between you for two years. "You don’t know him enough to not trust him. So, what is it, really?”
“Exactly. I don’t know him at all—”
“Say the real reason you don't want me around him. Say the real reason you don’t want me around any guy.” You pleaded. “Just say it."
Rafe stared down at you with his lips parted and his chest heaving, the words trapping themselves in his throat. His eyes darted down to your lips, a look flashing across his features before he forced it down, his face hardening. He couldn't say it. To say it would mean ruining everything.
"...I just don't trust him," he muttered, looking away.
You let out a disappointed sigh. "Right,” your tongue prodded the inside of your cheek. “Whatever. Well, you'll just have to get over it then." You turned and walked away, leaving him alone.
A week later, Rafe met Sofia— a junior, and a beautiful girl with dark hair and a bright smile. And she didn't know the version of Rafe Cameron you did. She just saw a broad-shouldered, breathtaking, handsome guy with money, a hung smile, and a nice truck.
It happened at a house party that you had skipped in favor of studying for a midterm.
They flirted for hours, made out on the couch in the middle of the living room, Rafe doing it half-drunk with his eyes open for a split second, scanning the crowd as if he were looking for someone who wasn't even there.
But Sofia clung to him after that night.
She began showing up at the diner where your group ate breakfast. She inserted herself into the booths, sitting next to Rafe with her manicured hand resting casually on his thigh.
And your demeanor surrounding their presence shifted almost instantly.
You didn't make a scene. You never did. Instead, you became uncharacteristically cold. Your other friends weren’t used to it, but Rafe was. Whenever Sofia spoke, you stared at your phone, giving short, dry responses that made the atmosphere noticeably awkward.
Rafe tried to corner you about it after breakfast one morning, catching you by his truck.
"What’s up with you?" he said, blocking your path. "You been acting weird since Sofia started hanging with us."
"Nothing’s ‘up with me’," you said, your voice dripping with annoyance as you looked up at him. "And no one’s worried about your girlfriend."
"She's not my girlfriend," Rafe stepped closer, his voice dropping, desperate. "Why do you even care?” He pressed, but you avoided his gaze, biting your lip. “...Why would it matter?"
You looked at him, your eyes flat, hiding the burning jealousy that was eating your chest alive. You didn't answer his question. You just forced an empty smile, patted his chest, and walked right past him.
THE breaking point happened on a crowded night in one of the bars you all frequented. Rafe was at the pool tables with Topper and Kelce, and Sofia had followed you and your friends into the girls' bathroom, cornering you by the mirrors while you were fixing your hair as Kat and Janae left, not without weary glances back at you.
Sofia leaned against the sink, turning to look at you with a curious, slightly insecure look.
"Hey," Sofia started, running a hand through her hair. "I know you and I don’t really, uh, talk, but...can I ask you something?” she asked, laughing nervously. “Since... you know, you and Rafe are like childhood best friends and all?"
You stopped adjusting your hair, your eyes locking onto her reflection in the glass. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the countertop. "Yeah?"
"...Am I his type?" Sofia asked, her voice dropping into a hopeful pitch. "Like... he's sweet when we're alone, but then he just gets so distant. And I really like him, and…” she trailed off. “I guess I’m asking…do you think he wants something real? Like, a real relationship?"
A sudden spike of something venomous sparked in your chest. The image of her hand on his thigh, the thought of his lips on hers at that party—it stripped away your restraint, or whatever was left of it. You turned around slowly, crossing your arms, your face nonchalant, feigning casual indifference.
"Sofia," you said, your voice entirely casual. "You're really pretty and sweet, but... you're not really Rafe's type."
Sofia’s smile faltered, her brow furrowing. "I’m not?"
"It's not even you, really. It's just, Rafe doesn't really do... serious," you shrugged, turning back to the mirror to apply a layer of lip gloss. "He likes to have fun and move on to the next thing. I’ve known him almost all my life and that’s just how he is.” You shrugged. “Honestly, it would probably be best if you just dropped him now before you get hurt. Plus, he doesn't seem to think you guys are super serious anyway. At least not from what he told me..."
Sofia stood there, her face draining of color as your words systematically dismantled her confidence.
"Oh," Sofia choked out, her eyes welling with tears. "I... I didn't know."
"Yeah," you gave her a tight smile, sliding your lip gloss into your purse. "Just thought you should know.”
"I, well...thank you, I guess." She said, sniffling.
You planted a hand on her shoulder as you moved to leave with a pitiful smile. You walked out of the bathroom, leaving her alone, your heart hammering with a sick sense of satisfaction. Not because you hurt her feelings. But because you knew you'd be giving Rafe a taste of his own medicine.
THE consequences arrived at two o'clock in the morning.
You were lying in your bed, the room dark, when a sudden banging rattled your dorm door. You jumped, eyebrows pinching as you slid out of bed, yanking the door open.
You sighed, rolling your eyes at the sight of Rafe standing in the hallway, his face twisted and his breathing ragged. He stepped into your room without an invitation, slamming the door behind him so hard the frame groaned.
"What the fuck did you say to Sofia?" he snapped, turning on you instantly.
You shrugged, walking back to your bed and sitting down, pulling the blanket over your legs, looking completely unphased. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't pull that shit," Rafe hissed. "She just called me, crying her eyes out, breaking things off. She said you told her she wasn't my type and that I told you we weren’t serious. Why would you say that shit to her?"
"Because it's the truth?" you shot back, sitting up. "That’s what you told me, so that’s what I told her." You said like it was the most casual thing in the world. "You didn’t care about her, Rafe. Why are you acting like I ruined some epic love story?"
"It doesn't matter if I care about her or not," Rafe stepped closer to the bed, his hands clenched into tight fists. "It's the fact that you went out of your way to ruin it! You had no right to tell her that—"
"Oh, I had no right?" you laughed, a bitter sound as you stood up from the bed, facing him down. "What about you? What about every single guy who tries to talk to me?" You cocked an eyebrow. "The guy from my stats class you hovered over at the library until he was too terrified to ask for my notes? Or the guy at the bar last weekend who asked for my number that you stared down until he left the booth? Or even Dominic?” You spat. “You scare them off until you’re the only guy left! You do the exact same thing to me—"
"T-that's different!" Rafe yelled, his face inches from yours as you both danced furiously around the 'why' of your behavior.
"How is that different?" you shrieked.
"Because I'm…protecting you!" Rafe shot back, his voice breaking. "I don't think you should be with anyone right now, alright? You have a lot of shit goin’ on, you can't handle a relationship!"
"And you can?" you fired back, the words cutting like razor blades. "Rafe, you're a functional alcoholic who can't handle a single text from his father! You're just as fucked up as I am!" You stepped closer, your breathing shallow, heart breaking into a thousand pieces as you looked into his eyes, the truth screaming between the inches of space left between your lips. "So, are you saving them from my 'baggage'," you whispered, your voice shaking violently as the tears finally spilled over your eyelashes. "...Or are you actually just saving me for yourself?"
Rafe froze, his jaw loosening slightly, his eyes locked onto yours.
The question crashed and burned the illusion of denial you’d be holding onto for years. The silence that followed was suffocating and terrifyingly cold. Rafe stared at you, his chest rising and falling, his lips trembling slightly as the implication of your words stripped away every single layer of denial he had used to protect himself since he met you.
He looked caught, terrified, and entirely overwhelmed.
But he didn't answer. He couldn't.
Rafe turned around, grabbed the doorknob, and walked out into the hallway, leaving you alone in the quiet room.
And for the next four days, the silence lasted.
It was the longest you had ever gone without speaking to each other, voluntarily, in your entire lives. You didn't text him, he didn't text you. You sat on opposite sides of the diner during group breakfasts, ignoring each other's existence completely, while Topper, Kelce, Kat, and Janae watched wondering what the hell could’ve possibly happened for the two of you to not speak.
You both spent hours staring at your phones late at night, your thumbs hovering over each other's contact names, debating the text, before locking your screens and throwing them onto the mattress, too stubborn to break the ice.
BUT then came a Saturday night.
You had gone to a frat party with Kat and Janae, determined to drown the ache in your chest with cheap liquor. By midnight, the plan had succeeded. Entirely too well.
The jungle juice was pure alcohol, and you were completely wasted, unable to even stand straight on your heels as you leaned against the walls, the world spinning.
Your friends weren't doing much better, and realizing none of you could drive or even navigate an Uber app, and with their phones dead, Kat slid down the hallway wall, pulled out your phone, and dialed the only person she knew would always answer for you.
Rafe was lying on the couch in his campus apartment, staring blankly at the TV when his phone buzzed. He picked it up instantly, his heart jumping when he saw your name.
"Hello?" he said, his voice tense.
"Rafe..." Kat slurred into the speaker, the loud bass of the party thumping in the background, and his shoulders fell at the sound of her voice. "You gotta come get us. We're at…” She slurred out the name of the house, her own head pounding. “We're all really wasted and she... she can't even stand up. Hold on, I’m gonna—"
Rafe didn't even hang up the phone as he heard Kat puking on the other side. He shot up, grabbed his keys, and sprinted out the door and down the stairs to his truck, his heart hammering. The anger from four days ago evaporated like nothing.
He arrived at the frat house ten minutes later, pushing through the crowds of drunk college kids like a hurricane. He found Kat and Janae in the upstairs hallway, supporting you between them. Your head was hanging low, your eyes glassy, your heels dragging on the floor.
"I got her," Rafe muttered, his face dead serious as he easily lifted you into his arms, your body heavy, your head instantly rolling into the crook of his neck. He looked at Kat and Janae. "C’mon, get in the truck."
He drove back to the campus dorms first, the silence in the car tense. He helped Kat and Janae out, carrying them to their door, before returning to the truck where you were slumped in the passenger seat.
Rafe looked at you—your face that had a light sheen of sweat, your frizzy hair. He couldn't leave you alone in your dorm room like this. He didn't trust you not to get sick or fall.
So, he drove you back to his apartment.
He carried you up the stairs to his bedroom, gently placing your limp form onto his mattress. You groaned, rolling onto your back, staring at the ceiling with hazy eyes.
"The room is spinning..." you whispered, a drunken chuckle escaping your lips.
Rafe didn't say a word. He sat at the foot of the bed, his large hands reaching down to gently unlace the straps of your high heels, sliding them off your feet and setting them neatly on the floor. He stood up, walked into the bathroom, and returned with a damp washcloth.
He sat on the edge of the mattress beside you, leaning over. His movements were tender as he used the damp cloth to gently wipe the smudged makeup and glitter off your face.
"You're wasted," Rafe muttered softly, his voice heavy with frustration as he wiped a streak of mascara from under your eye. "You know a lot of the kids at this college are from Kildare? Anything you do could easily get back to your mom."
"I don't care," you mumbled, your eyes closing as the warm cloth touched your skin. "If I’m lucky, she’ll kill me."
Rafe froze. The washcloth remained pressed against your cheek, his fingers tightening. His face turned incredibly tense, his eyes locking onto yours with complete seriousness.
"Don't say shit like that," he whispered, his voice trembling as his face twisted. "And I'm serious. Don't you ever say that shit to me. Ever again."
The reminder of that night always flared between you. Rafe was starting to think it affected him more than it did you.
You opened your eyes, looking up into his face, your drunken state stripping away all of your defenses, leaving nothing but curiosity from your last argument.
"Why do you care?" you pressed, reaching up with a hand, your fingers tangling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down slightly as you tried to sit up.
Rafe sighed. "Because you're my best friend, believe it or not. No matter how much you piss me off—"
"No, not *hiccup* that," you waved him off mid sentence. "Tell me the real reason why you don’t want me around anyone?" you slurred.
Rafe let out a long, defeated sigh, his forehead dropping down until it was nearly touching yours, his breath warm against your lips.
"...You already know why," he whispered, his voice a soft surrender. "And I don't wanna do this tonight."
You stared at him, the alcohol slowing your brain but amplifying the ache in your chest. You let out a quiet, drunken sigh, your fingers loosening on his shirt.
"Did you *hiccup* fuck Sofia?" you mumbled, the insecurity ripping out of you before you could stop it.
Rafe blinked, taken completely aback by the question, his brow furrowing. "What?"
"Did you sleep with her?" you deadpanned, rolling your eyes and looking away from him, your voice small. "It's fine if you did... it's not like it matters, considering you've fucked other people... I just... I want to know—"
"No," Rafe said firmly, his voice cracking slightly as he grabbed your chin, forcing your face back to his. "No, I didn't."
"...Why?" you whispered, your eyes wide.
"Because," he started, debating his next words. "I haven't had sex with anyone," Rafe confessed, the truth pouring out of him like blood from an open wound.
You laughed in your drunken state. "You're lying,"
He looked down, his jaw tightening. "I've hooked up with people, touched up on girls at parties when I was drunk and trying to forget... but I haven't actually slept with anyone. At all."
"...You're not lying." your face fell. "...Why?" you asked again, your voice a tiny gasp.
Rafe went completely silent. He couldn't say the words. He couldn't tell you that every time he closed his eyes with another girl, his brain just showed him your face. He couldn't tell you that he felt like he belonged to you, even if you were both too broken to admit it.
"I'll tell you when you're sober." He ended the conversation, gently pulling the blanket up over your shoulders, tucking you into his bed as moved to stand up, wanting to sleep on the couch to give you space, but your hand shot out from beneath the covers, your fingers locking tightly around his wrist.
"Stay," you begged, looking up at him through the dark with an earnestness that shattered his chest. "Please? Just for tonight."
Rafe stared down at your fingers on his wrist, the image of that night of banquet flashing through his mind—the way you had detached his fingers from your hair. He looked at your glassy eyes, heard the faint slur in your voice, and he knew the boundaries were too blurred. He couldn't cross them. Not like this. Not while you were using alcohol to escape the reality of your questions.
"I can't," he whispered, his voice breaking.
He gently detached your fingers from his wrist, placing your hand back under the warm blanket. He turned around, walked out of the room, and closed the door behind him, leaving you to fall asleep.
THE next morning, the sunlight was blinding.
It cut through the cracks of the blinds in Rafe’s bedroom, triggering your headache that was bound to make an appearance no matter what. You sat up, groaning, your tongue dry as you yawned.
You walked out into the small kitchen, your bare feet quiet on the linoleum but Rafe was already awake. He was standing by the counter, wearing nothing but sweatpants, his broad back to you as he poured a glass of water.
"Good morning," you murmured, your voice raspy. You were used to bouncing back from your arguments, and you only remembered snippets of last night—the makeup wipe, the ride home.
"Morning," Rafe said. He didn't turn around. His voice was flat, distant.
You walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a bowl and a box of cereal, trying to shake off the awkward tension. "My head is literally splitting open.” you groaned. “I had way too much of that jungle juice, or whatever the fuck they were calling it..."
"Yeah, well, you're not drinking it anymore," Rafe said, finally turning around to face you. His eyes were dark, absent of any of the tenderness from last night, his jaw set into a hard line. "And I'm not getting you weed anymore, either."
You froze, the cereal spoon clinking sharply against the porcelain bowl. You looked up at him, your irritation flaring instantly. "We're back to this again?"
"I'm dead serious," Rafe said, stepping closer, leaning his hands against the kitchen counter. "You were saying some crazy shit last night—"
"I was drunk." you defended, your voice rising as you slammed the cereal box onto the counter. "Everyone says stupid things when they're drunk, it couldn’t have been that bad. Besides, I probably didn’t mean anything by it—"
"Yeah, that's the problem." Rafe retorted, frustratd.
"Oh, so you can drink your problems away but I do it for fun and you try to cut me off?" you yelled back, stepping directly into his space. "You're a hypocrite."
"Call me whatever you want. You’ve called me worse—" he shrugged, his chest heaving as he stared down at you.
"Why the fuck do you care so much?!" you protested, the words ripping out of your throat.
The question hit Rafe hard. His face contorted, a flash of hurt crossing his features for a split second before he put his walls back up, his eyes turning to ice. The stupidity of the question burned his blood.
"It doesn't matter why," Rafe said, his voice dropping. "You’re done. I'm not getting you weed. I'm not letting you drink.” He started, jamming a finger into your sternum. “You're gonna call your doctor, and you're gonna start taking your meds again. And if you find someone else to get drugs or alcohol for you,” He paused, contemplating his next words. “I won't hesitate to call your mom and tell her everything."
You stared at him, fixing him with a challenging, skeptical look, narrowing your eyes. "...You wouldn't."
"Try me," Rafe whispered, dead serious. "I don’t care if she hates me, or you, I'll do it. I'll call her, and I'll tell her everything.” He threatened.
A surge of fury took over your limbs—your teeth clenching so hard your jaw ached, your chest shrinking. You let your cereal bowl hit the counter, the milk splashing over the edge, before turning on your heel and storming back into his bedroom.
"Fine,” you hissed. “Fuck you.” You started grabbing your heels, your purse, and your belongings from last night.
Rafe followed you into the room, easily catching up as he tried to reason with you. "I’m not doing this to try and control you, I—Just listen to me for a second—"
You ignored him entirely, continuing to snatch your stuff up.
"Move. I don't know when you got so uptight but I'm sick of you acting like you're my dad or something." you scoffed. "You're not some redeemed individual, Rafe! So, stop trying to fucking crucify every thing I do—" you muttered, pushing past him as he stood in the doorway when Rafe’s restraint finally snapped. He lunged forward, his large hands wrapping around your arms with an overwhelming force that forced you to stop.
"Calm down!" Rafe ordered, pinning you back against the bedroom wall as your things fell to the floor.
He loomed over you, his chest rising and falling violently against yours, his eyes wild with tears, his entire body shaking.
"You make it so damn difficult for people to give a shit about you!" Rafe spat, the tears finally spilling over his eyelashes, hot and fast down his cheekbones.
You stopped struggling, your breath catching in your throat.
"I'm not perfect, alright? I know that!" Rafe yelled, his grip on your shoulders tightening. "But I did everything you ever asked me to do! I've been trying to be easier... I've been trying to cut down on the drinking, trying to stop making an ass of myself at events when we go home... I did it all for you! I've been trying to make things easier so you wouldn't always have to worry about me and yourself!"
He stopped, his breathing ragged, his forehead dropping down to rest heavily against your shoulder.
"Fuck, I did it because I love you," Rafe whispered into your neck, the truth slipping out.
The silence that settled over the bedroom was more breathtaking than anything you’d ever experienced.
You stood pinned against the wall, your arms hanging limp at your sides. Your heart had stopped entirely, the blood freezing in your veins. The words hung in the air like a knife dangling from the ceiling. You were caught entirely off guard, your eyes welling with tears.
"Rafe..." you whispered softly, your voice trembling so violently you could barely form his name.
Rafe lifted his head, his eyes searching yours. "Don't," he choked out, his voice cracking as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't you dare tell me I don't. Because I do. I've loved you since I was eight and I've loved you every single day since—"
A sudden, overwhelming wave of panic slammed into your chest and walls felt like they were closing in, the air leaving your lungs. You loved him too, you knew you did. But the realization didn't bring comfort.
Because neither of you knew how to handle something so pure without breaking it.
"No..." you choked out, shaking your head frantically as you pushed hard against his chest, violently knocking his hands off your shoulders. “Rafe,” you started, speaking like you had to force air out of your lungs, holding back tears. “...I don’t think either of us even knows what love looks like. Not the good kind, anyway, so…” you continued, choking down your emotions. “How the hell could we love each other?"
The words were the truth of your existence, and Rafe flinched as if you had stabbed him in the chest, his face turning entirely pale, his hands dropping limply back to his sides. The look of heartbreak that washed over his features was the most agonizing thing you had ever had to look at.
You didn't wait for him to speak, couldn't take his words for another second. You dropped your eyes, scooped your shoes and purse up from the floor with trembling fingers, and ran out of his bedroom, slamming the front door of his apartment behind you, and sprinting down the stairs with tears streaming hot and fast down your cheeks.
feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.
