thinking about your ex rafe cameron, breaking you, but also putting the pieces back together.
"we're done! i'm over this bullshit!" you scream walking away from him. "baby, no don't fucking walk away from me" he says sternly, anger rising in his voice. "you don't get to call me that anymore" you respond entering his room grabbing your things. rafe quickly approaches behind you grabbing your hands to stop you from putting your things in the purse he just bought you. “stop, y/n!” his grip isn’t gentle, not enough to hurt, but enough to stop you completely. your hands freeze mid motion, his fingers wrapped tight around your wrists, your purse slipping slightly from your hold. “rafe, let go.” your voice comes out sharper than you mean it, breath uneven, chest rising and falling too fast.
he doesn’t. “no.” he says, voice low, like he’s trying to stay in control but he knows it’s slipping. “you’re not just gonna walk in here, say we’re done, and act like that’s it.” you let out a short, disbelieving laugh, trying to pull your hands back. “that’s exactly what i’m doing.” his jaw tightens immediately. eyes darkening, “no, it’s not.”
he steps closer, forcing you back a half step until the edge of the dresser presses into your hips. his grip loosens just enough to slide from your wrists to your hands, like he’s trying to make it look softer than it is. “you don’t mean that,” he mutters, eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for something to prove himself right. “you’re mad. that’s all this is.”
“i’m not just mad, rafe.” your voice cracks this time, and you hate that it does. “i’m tired of this shit.” that makes him pause for a second. but then he shakes his head like he’s rejecting it completely, like the idea itself pisses him off. “tired of what, huh?” he presses, leaning in closer. “me? or the fact you don’t get to control everything?”
you scoff, finally yanking one hand free, shoving against his chest. he barely moves. “this, this right here,” you gesture between you, frustration spilling over, “you don’t listen. you don’t care about what i want unless it lines up with what you want.” his eyes darken at that. “that’s not true.”
“it is,” you shoot back immediately. “i said we’re done.” his tongue drags across his bottom lip, like he’s holding himself back from saying something or doing something worse. “no,” it’s quieter this time. your brows pull together. “what do you mean no?” he lets out a breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly, like you’re the one not getting it. “i mean you don’t get to decide that on your own.” your stomach drops at how calm he suddenly sounds. “rafe-”
“you think you can just walk away from me?” he cuts in, voice low again, stepping closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “after everything? after you let it get this far?” your back hits the dresser fully now. “that’s not how this works.” your heart is pounding from anger and nerves. pounding from him being too close, like always.
“that’s exactly how it works,” you say, but it comes out less certain this time, and you mentally kick yourself because you know he’ll notice that, and exploit that. his gaze flickers to your lips for half a second before coming back to your eyes, a slow, almost satisfied exhale leaving him. “see?” he murmurs. “you don’t even sound sure.”
“i am sure,” you insist, but you don’t move away or don’t push him back this time. his hand comes up, slower now, less force, brushing against your jaw, not quite gentle, but not rough either. “then go,” he says quietly. but doesn’t move. he doesn't give you the space to breathe. just stands there.
“go!” he repeats. “door’s right there.” but he still doesn’t step back from you, nor give you space to pass. that infuriates you even more. you shove his chest harder this time. “you’re so full of shit.” his head snaps slightly at that, brows pulling together. “excuse me?”
“you tell me to leave, but you’re standing right in front of me like you’re waiting for me not to,” your voice sharpens, frustration spilling over. “like always.” his jaw tightens. “because you don’t.”
“that doesn’t mean i won’t this time.”
“yeah?” he steps closer again, like he can’t help himself. “you’ve said that before.” and that hits you in the chest, because you know he’s right. your grip tightens around your bag. “that’s exactly the problem, rafe. this-” you gesture between you, shaking your head, “this keeps happening.”
“because you keep coming back,” he shoots back immediately, like he’s been waiting to say it. you let out a breath, incredulous. “you think it’s just me?”
“don’t twist it,” he snaps. “you show up, and text me. you come into my room like nothing’s changed-”
“because you pull me back every time!” your voice raises now, breaking through his. “you don’t let anything end, you don’t let anything be done, you just-” you cut yourself off, frustration settling in, shaking your head. he watches you, chest rising, eyes locked on you like you’re something he’s trying to figure out and fight at the same time. “you act like you don’t want this,” he says, quieter now, but sharper. “like you’re so over it.”
“i should be,” you fire back. “we’re not even together, rafe. we haven’t been.” those few words hit him like a moving truck, making his expression shift. “yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath. “whose fault is that?” you blink watching as he can’t be vulnerable, having this hard tough guy act, but why with you?. “mine?”
“you’re the one who didn’t wanna make it official again,” he says, stepping back just enough to run a hand through his hair, pacing. “you’re the one who said ‘no labels,’ remember?”
“because of this!” you throw your hands up. “because we always end up right back here, arguing and yelling, you not listening-”
“i listen.” you laugh, short and bitter. “no, you don’t. you hear what you want, and then you do whatever the hell you were gonna do anyway.” his eyes flash at that. “that’s not fair.”
“neither is this,” you shoot back, softer now but no less intense. “you don’t get to keep me like this, rafe.” he stills completely. “like what?” his voice drops again. you hesitate saying it, but then you say it anyway. “like something you can pick up whenever you feel like it,” you swallow. “and put down when it gets too hard.”
his reaction is too immediate, “that’s not what this is.” he almost yells. “then what is it?” you challenge, stepping toward him now. “because we’re not together. we fight every other time we see each other. and yet-” your voice falters slightly, “i’m still here.”
his eyes soften for a split second at that, but it’s leaves just as fast. “yeah,” he says quietly. “you are.” your chest tightens. “that’s not a good thing.”
“maybe not,” he shrugs slightly, but there’s tension in it, something real under the surface. “but you’re still here anyway.” you shake your head, backing up a step now. “this is exactly why i didn’t wanna do this again.”
“do what?” he presses. “us.” your voice is barely controlled now. “whatever this is. the hooking up, the pretending it doesn’t mean anything when it clearly does,”
“then just stop pretending,” he cuts in, suddenly closer again. you freeze. his voice is lower now, more intense than before. “you think i don’t see it?” he says, eyes locked onto yours. “you think i don’t notice the way you look at me? the way you come back every time even after you swear you’re done?” your breath catches. “you’re not over it either.”
“that doesn’t mean this is good,” you whisper. he exhales, running a hand over his face, frustration bleeding through now. “i don’t care if it’s good,” he finally admits. “i just..” he stops himself, jaw tightening. you stare at him. “you just what?”
“i’m not letting you walk out like you don't care!.”
your heart breaks a little, because all you wanted was a sign that he wanted this as much as you did. and that’s what makes it worse. you swallow, gripping your bag tighter. “rafe…” you say, but you don’t move and he notices that again. his gaze drops to your lips for half a second before coming back up, something almost darkly satisfied settling in. “yeah,” he murmurs. “that’s what i thought.”
the shift in energy is almost instant. like all the softness meant nothing. one second the space is filled with heavy tension, but now it’s making a turn for the worst. you shake your head, backing up, voice tight. “this is pointless. you’re not even hearing m-”
“no, i hear you,” he cuts in sharply, something mean slipping into his tone now. “i just think it’s funny.” your brows pull together. “what’s funny?” he lets out a dry laugh, pacing once like he’s working himself up. “you standing here acting like you’re some victim in this.” your stomach drops slightly. “a victim? i’m not acting like anything-”
“yeah, you are,” he interrupts, harsher now. “like i’m the problem, like i’m the one keeping you here.” you stare at him. “you are part of the problem, rafe-”
“or maybe,” he cuts in again, voice sharper, colder, “you just like what comes with me.”
you feel like you just got slapped in the face, your hands start trembling of hurt, of anger, or that irritation voice on your shoulder telling you to yell back, to disrespect him like he just did you. “…what?” is all that manages to come out. he shrugs, but it’s defensive, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t care.
“the bags, the clothes, the shit i buy you,” he gestures vaguely toward your purse. the one he just got you, the one you were just shoving all your shit in, “all of it.”
“don’t..” your voice shakes slightly, “don’t do that.”
but he’s already too far in. “what?” he scoffs. “you gonna tell me you don’t like it? you don’t like showing it off?” his eyes drag over you, cruel now. “walking around like that, acting like it’s not mine?” those words hit you hard, like something physically just knocked the air out of you. “you think i’m with you for your fucking money?” your voice is loud and sharp, hurt bleeding through every word.
he doesn’t hesitate like he’s had this thought for ages, and it’s just now coming out. “i think it doesn’t hurt.” your vision blurs almost instantly, tears filling your eyes before you can stop them. you shake your head slowly, like you’re trying to process what he just said.
“wow.” he exhales, running a hand through his hair, but he doesn’t take it back, or try to fix it. “you really think that low of me?” you whisper. “you think i’m like every other kook bitch on the island who wants your money?” you ask louder, “you really think that’s why i’ve stayed, and had your back through everything? for purses and dinners?” you say letting out all your frustration.
he doesn’t answer right away. and somehow, that’s even worse. your let out a laugh, shaky and disbelieving, tears slipping down your cheeks now. “i have never, not once, needed anything from you, rafe.” he looks at you, but there’s still that edge there, like he’s too deep in his own anger to pull himself out.
“then why are you still here?” he throws back. and that’s the final blow, your teared eyes widen in shock, not expecting him to say anything worse, but it just piles on. “because i loved you.”
his expression flickers, just for a second, but you don’t let him speak, don’t give him the chance. “because i wanted you,” your voice cracks, tears falling faster now. “not your money, not your stupid gifts, not any of that, just you.” he takes a step toward you. “y/n-”
“no,” you snap, backing away quickly, grabbing your keys off the dresser with shaking hands. you dump the purse of your things, throwing the bag at his chest. “you don’t get to take it all back now” panic flashes across his face now, the anger leaving. “hey, hey, i didn’t mean-”
“yes, you did,” you cut him off, voice breaking. “you said it. you thought it.” you turn toward the door, wiping at your face but it does nothing, tears still streaming uncontrollably. “y/n, stop-” he moves after you. “don’t follow me!” you spin back for a second, voice shaking but loud.
“baby, i’m sorry, please-” he begs, but you shove him back. you stare at him for a second longer, chest heaving, then shake your head. “fuck you, rafe cameron.” your voice cracks on his name. For the first time all night you can physically see his heart break, his eyes turning glossy, while his mouth is a gap, like he’s stuck between saying something, or letting out a sob.
“leave me the fuck alone” and this time, you really walk out.
the door slams behind you, echoing through the house as you rush to your car, hands shaking so bad you can barely get the key in. tears blur your vision, falling faster, harder, your breath coming in uneven gasps as you finally start the engine.
“FUCK!” you hear him yell, but you don’t care, you put the car in drive and you don’t look back.
-
you can’t even count how many times you’ve ignored every text, every call. every text that said “im outside,” because he did try to see you, and speak to you. at first is was way too messy, only coming late at night in the form of drunk texts, always a string of texts with unreadable spelling mistakes, saying the same “i’m sorry baby” “I love you so much” “please you mean everything to me” and it hurt so much more because all you wanted to do was run back into his arms.
but then you kept telling yourself no. that him saying sorry enough times wouldn’t undo what he said or how he acted. and it was like he realized it for himself as well, because the messages slowly decreased, and when they did, they were more honest, and less quick and poorly written, like “i know you don’t wanna hear from me, but I’m trying to give you space.” “i fucked up. i know that.” “not texting you again after this. just I’m so fucking sorry baby.”
and that was the last you heard from him for a few days, until those days turned into a week, then a week into two, and eventually it became a month and so on. it hurt too, because somehow, for once he finally actually listened, and of all the times he could’ve listened, why’d he choose this time?
-
you almost don’t go.
you stood in front of your mirror for ten minutes, staring at your reflection like you were trying to convince yourself this was just another night. “girl, staring at the mirror isn’t gonna do anything” your best friend says to you. “i don’t know if i wanna go honestly” you reply to her, and it’s partly true. “you just don’t want to run into him, but honestly fuck him, he can’t stop your life” she says, and you immediately know who she’s speaking about.
“no you’re right, and we look hot as fuck anyway” you say with a smile. “hell yeah we do!” she laughs with you.
the air is warm when you arrive, the feeling of the start of summer. the waves silently crashing into the sane, while everyone is in conversation and the music is playing lightly in the background. you and your best friend grab a drink, saying hello to your other friends.
you glance around like you’re trying to reassure yourself he’s not here when your eyes drift to the past the bonfire smoke, and there he is.
rafe cameron, your ex boyfriend.
standing a little forward down the beach, talking to someone, but not really. he looks different, his eyes are darker, like he’s been in his head, his shoulder relaxed like he doesn’t care anymore. you stare longer than you intended, when his eyes roam around, feeling the heat of behind stared at, when they fall on you.
it feels like the whole party faded away, like the music just stopped, and the conversations ended. your heart nearly drops to your ass, while you almost forget how to breathe. he doesn’t look away, and neither do you. “shit,” you mutter under your breath. your friend glances at you. “what?”
“um, nothing,” you say quickly like you’re trying to cover it up, but it’s already too late. because he’s already making his way towards you both. his movements are careful, like he’s trying to make sure you don’t disappear, like it’s a fragile moment. your heart is pounding a thousand beats per second, you’re not sure how you haven’t fainted at this point. you force yourself not to leave to hear him out because honestly? you missed his voice.
“hey,” he says when he finally reaches you. the moment is awkward and filled with nerves from you both. “hi.” you respond. there’s a pause that stretches a little too long, both of you clearly trying to figure out how to exist in the same space again without everything blowing up.
“you look really good,” he says finally, like he’s just trying to start somewhere normal. you let out a small smile. “so do you.” he shifts his weight slightly, glancing down for half a second before looking back at you. “i wasn’t sure if you’d, talk to me, or if you’d just ignore me.” you raise a brow slightly. “you didn’t exactly give me a reason to run up and say hi.”
“yeah,” he nods, accepting that immediately. “that’s fair.” he pauses before continuing, “i’ve been wanting to talk to you.” your arms cross loosely, more out of grounding yourself than defensiveness. “you’ve took plenty of chances.”
“i know,” he says. “i just figured you didn’t wanna hear it anymore.” you tilt your head slightly, “and now?” he exhales. “now i think even if you don’t wanna hear it, you deserve to.” that softens your sassy exterior a bit. “okay,” you say slowly. “then talk.” he runs a hand through his hair, like he’s organizing his thoughts in real time. “i meant what i said,” he starts. “about being sorry. not in a ‘i messed up, let’s move on’ kind of way. i mean, i actually get why you left.” your brows pull together slightly. “do you really though?”
“i do,” he nods. “because if you said that shit to me? i would’ve lost it too.” you let out a quiet, almost humorless laugh. “you did lose it.”
“i know,” he says quickly. “that’s what i’m saying. i was already off it and i still said worse.” your gaze hardens slightly. “you didn’t just say something ‘worse,’ rafe. you questioned why i was even with you.”
“i know.”
“you made it sound like i was using you.”
“i know,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “and i’ve been replaying that over and over in my head, wishing i could take it back.”
“well, you can’t,” you say, your voice sharper now.
“i know i can’t,” he says, stepping a little closer, but still not invading your space. “that’s why i’m not standing here asking you to forget it. i just, i needed you to know i didn’t mean it.” you shake your head slightly. “then why even say it?” he doesn’t answer immediately, and it makes you open up a space to truly heal from that comment, because for once, he’s not rushing to defend himself, actually thinking before he speaks.
“i was so angry,” he says finally. “and i wanted to win the argument.” your jaw tightens, the angry of that night slowly rising. “so you said the one thing you knew would hurt me the most.”
“…yeah.” the honesty knocks the air out of your lungs more than any excuse would’ve. “you don’t even understand how deep that cut, rafe” you say quietly, your voice starting to shake despite your best effort.
“i do,” he says immediately.
“no, you don’t,” you shake your head, stepping back slightly. “because you didn’t have to walk away wondering if the person you loved ever actually respected you. you didn’t have to think about how i thought you just viewed me like all the other girls you dated. how the island looks at me like that. ” his face softens, like the guilt is eating at him, now that he can see and hear how bad he broke you with that small sentence.
“i’ve never needed anything from you,” you continue, your voice breaking now. “not your money, not your gifts, not any of that. and the fact that you could even think that-”
“i didn’t think that,” he cuts in, more desperate and pleading now. “i don’t think that.”
“but you still said it,” you fire back. “and that means somewhere in your head, you believed that.” he exhales sharply, frustrated, but at himself. “you’re right,” he admits. “it did. for a second. and i grabbed onto it because i knew it would get to you.” you stare at him. “which makes it worse, i know” he adds, quieter now. “because i used it against you knowing it wasn’t true.”
“i’ve been around people like that my whole life,” he continues. “people who do want me for that. and instead of recognizing that you’re not like them, i threw it back in your face. i threw you in that same category just to hurt you.” you don’t even know what to say at this point. “yeah,” you whisper. “you did.”
“and i hate that i did,” he says. “i hate that that’s what you walked away with.” you laugh softly, shaking your head. “you didn’t just hurt my feelings, rafe. you messed with how i see things now.” his brows pull together. “what do you mean?”
“i mean,” you swallow, “now every time someone does something nice for me, i’m wondering if they think i expect it. or if they think i’m taking advantage.” his face falls. “and that’s on me now,” you continue. “because you put that thought there.”
“i’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. “not in a fix it way. just- i’m so fucking sorry i did that to you.” you look at him for a long moment. “and it’s not just that,” you add. “it’s everything. the fighting, the way we talk to each other when we’re mad, the way it always turns into something bigger than it needs to be.”
“i know.”
“i’m exhausted, rafe,” you admit, your voice softer now but heavier. “i don’t wanna keep doing this. i don’t wanna keep loving someone who makes me feel like i’m constantly fighting to be understood.” he nods slowly.
“i hear you,” he says. “i really do.” you tilt your head slightly. “do you? or are you just saying that because you think it’s what i wanna hear?”
“i’m saying it because i do get it,” he replies. “there’s a difference.” you cross your arms again, studying him. “okay. then explain it to me.” he takes a breath.
“i’ve been treating this like, as long as you don’t leave, it’s fine,” he says. “like the relationship is successful just because you’re still here.” your expression shifts slightly. “but that’s not the point,” he continues. “the point is making you wanna stay. and i haven’t been doing that.” you don’t interrupt, because he’s not wrong.
“i’ve been controlling, i haven’t listened, i’ve pushed you, pulled you back, pushed you again, and just assumed you’d always come back.”
“and when you didn’t,” he adds, quieter now, “that’s when it finally hit me.” the silence settles between you, and your heart hurts, because you’re realizing you weren’t the only one suffering these past few weeks. “i didn’t get over you,” you admit after a moment.
his eyes flicker a look of relief, like he was hoping you’d give him an indication, just a smidge of leeway back into your life. “i just stopped letting myself go back,” you continue. “because i knew if i did, nothing would change.”
“fair,” he says, but it’s not casual this time. his voice is lower, rougher around the edges, like he’s choosing his words instead of just throwing them at you.
“and i can’t do the old version of us again,” you tell him, holding your ground. “i won’t, rafe.”
he nods slowly, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours. you hesitate slightly at that. “then we don’t,” he adds, a little more firmly now. you let out a small breath, shaking your head. “it’s not that simple, and you know it’s not.”
“i do,” he says, stepping a little closer, but not too close, not pushing. “i know it’s not simple. i just, i know it’s that clear.” your brows pull together, studying him like you’re trying to catch the part where he slips back into old habits.
“you’re not gonna rush me?” you ask. he huffs a quiet breath, almost like the idea annoys him but not at you, at himself. “no. i’m not doing that again. i pushed you enough.”
“and you’re not gonna try to pull me back in the second i let my guard down?” his gaze flickers, something honest passing through it. “i’ve wanted to every day since you left,” he admits, voice dropping. “but no, i’m not gonna do that either.”
that makes you take a second, .
“you’re actually gonna listen to me?” he lets out a small, humorless laugh, running a hand over his jaw. “i should’ve been doing that the whole time,” he says. then softer, more serious, “ but yeah, course i am.” he says with that stupid smirk now. “and if it starts feeling like it used to?” you ask quietly.
he doesn’t answer right away, smirk fading, as he really deeply thinks about the answer. then he nods once, like he’s settling into something. “then you walk,” he says. “and i don’t chase you, or try to talk you out of it.” his jaw tightens slightly. “…even if it kills me.” you internally frown at that. “that’s not what you used to do.”
“i know,” he says immediately. “that’s the problem.” silence falls between you, heavier now but real. “i still care about you,” you admit, your voice quieter now. his head dips slightly, exhaling like that hits deeper than anything. “I was hoping you still would” he said with relief.
“and that’s what makes this hard.” he nods, eyes not leaving you. “same. i wouldn’t be standing here right now if it wasn’t.” you look away for a second, collecting yourself, then back at him. “this doesn’t just go back to normal,” you say. “there’s no jumping right back into whatever we were.”
“i don’t want that,” he says quickly. you blink, confused. “you don’t?” he shakes his head, stepping closer again, carefully. “no. because whatever we were? that’s what screwed it up in the first place.” his voice lowers. “i don’t want half of you. i don’t want the ‘when it’s convenient’ version.”
“so what do you want?” you ask. He steps into you space now, still not touching you, but he doesn’t hesitate with his words, like he’s so sure of it, “i want a real shot,” he says, eyes steady on yours. “i want to do it right. no games. i want you, and i want it in a way that doesn’t end like this again.” your heart flutters.
“and if it doesn’t work?” you ask, softer now.
“that’s not an option in my mind. It will work, because I want you more than anything.” he says so softly you barely know if you even heard it, and his words linger in your mind. the waves crash behind you, filling the silence you don’t know how to break, making you remember, you’re at a bonfire with actual people near you.
you glance around, looking for your best friend. Her eyes are already on yours, looking for any indication that you need help, need her to rip rafe a new one, but you give her a nod that says “i’m good” and she takes it, taking a sip of her drink while looking back at the guy she’s speaking to.
“you can try,” you say finally, glancing back at rafe. his eyes only waiting for an answer. “yeah?” he asks quietly, like he doesn’t want to push it. “yeah,” you nod. “but slow. and if i feel like i’m losing myself in this again, i’m done. for real this time.”
“you won’t,” he says so surely. you give him a look. “you don’t know that.”
he reaches out to place his hand on yours, hesitating for a second, like he’s asking for permission, grabbing it with a small squeeze, reassuring you. “ i’ll make sure you don’t,” he corrects, “i’ll fix it before it gets there.”
you feel a warmth creep up your arm at the contact, and you have to stop yourself for melting into it, but you body reacts before your brain can even process what you’re doing. your hand comes up first, fingers curling lightly into the front of his shirt, pulling him just a little closer.
his restraint snaps as instantly as yours, his hand slides to your waist, the other to your jaw, and when he leans down to kiss you, it’s everything you’ve both been holding back for weeks. weeks of missing each other, of him stopping himself from just showing up to your door, weeks of you having to force yourself to not think about him.
his grip tightens just slightly, pulling you closer like he’s making sure you’re real, like you’re not about to disappear on him again. when he finally pulls back, it’s barely an inch, his forehead resting against yours, breath uneven.
“please, don’t ever leave me again,” he mutters, raw and honest, a side of rafe you’ve never seen, until now. and for once things feel like they’ve gone back to normal.
