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an unexpected valentine

Summary: Time has passed since you last saw Rafe. No run ins, no eyes locked. Time moved on and so did you. The pain is still there but you didn’t let it drag you down.

Contents: A more positive reader. Still angst smashed in there. I really wanted it to be a happy ending for reader no matter how it ended up so she gets to shine a little bit more.

Word Count: 6.1k out of ?k

Time has moved forward. Whether you wanted it to or not.

It was tough at first, watching everyone around you laugh like they didn’t have care in the world. Things were officially done with Rafe. The second you handed him the watch and walked away with the cash in your pocket— it should’ve felt like a release. But it still weighed heavy on you.

Life never prepares you for moments like this. It doesn’t prepare you for the healing process. It doesn’t prepare you to deal with the burial process of a parent. And it doesn’t prepare you for the letting go of someone who you thought could be the love of your life.

But the more time you sat with the quiet rather than finding ways to drown it out, everything began to ease. It was no longer suffocating. Things had become steady, more gentle.

The seasons of the North Carolina air had changed. The cool air of March turned into another sweltering summer.

Holidays have passed. Easter came and went. You lit off fireworks for the Fourth of July, having to tend to JJ, who almost blew his hand off once or twice.

Your birthday showed up unannounced, a reminder that it was now the beginning of fall again. By this time things were lighter. You were more hopeful for the future. You celebrated with the pogues and a crooked homemade vanilla cake with chocolate frosting. They forgot the candles but you made a wish using John B’s zippo lighter.

The past year became a lesson in something you’d never expected. A year of choosing yourself.

For the longest time, your life revolved around loss. The loss of your parents and then the loss of him. For the longest time you were angry. Angry at how he made you feel safe, just to rip the carpet from beneath your feet and land you back where you were. You always felt like you were missing someone.

But as time went on, you began to rebuild.

It wasn’t dramatic, it didn’t happen overnight. But the way you saw the world and things around you changed. And only for the better.

You were able to walk around the house freely. Pieces of your parents were no longer reminders. Now just happy memories of a time that used to be. The living room was now a space for the pogues to continue those old movie nights. The kitchen where you used to watch your mom cook, was now filled with fresh ingredients of your own, where you carried on her recipes.

You were now in your first semester of college. Community College, but college nonetheless. For the first time now, your future wasn’t something that you felt like you’d have to brace yourself for.

You decided to study social work. It wasn’t a random decision. It wasn’t a safe choice either.

After the loss of your parents, you wondered how many others dealt with the same. You knew what a ripped apart life felt like. You knew what loneliness and pain could do to a person's mind.

You wanted to be someone others could lean on. You saw it firsthand with John B and JJ and how having a selected family could help. How losing family didn’t mean losing everyone. They were annoying at times, but they stayed. That mattered and you wanted to be that for someone else.

It wasn’t just some degree to you. You also didn’t think that you could magically fix people. You knew that wasn’t the case, from your amazing personal experience. Grief carried, but it didn’t mean that it had to be carried alone. For once, it felt like your pain had a purpose.

Walking into your first class was nerve wracking to say the least. Most of the people there were from OBX but you still didn’t know most of their names. You were behind schedule, making you only a year older, but it somehow felt more.

But when the lesson began— the basics in advocacy, trauma, meeting the person where they are mentally instead of where you’d want them to be— everything fell into place. This was exactly where you needed to be.

Sarah had been a constant in all of this. A steady presence in your life, from the beginning when everything felt so unstable. In every way imaginable, she stepped in where her brother couldn’t anymore. She offered love and patience. Up closed and wrapped around you or from a comforting distance when you needed it. She never pushed. Never demanded explanations.

She was just there for you. And you?

You hated feeling like a burden to her. Especially in the beginning.

No matter how much she claimed you weren’t, you couldn’t help but feel that way. You never wanted to be that for her. Someone who was someone else’s responsibility. Someone she felt like she needed to have eyes on at all times.

Part of you feared leaning on someone like you had before. That in one moment it could all just be gone and you’d have to learn to rebuild again. You knew she’d never leave your side, but the paranoid thoughts always found themselves slipping right back in.

Sarah never treated it like that. You were never a weight she had to carry. She wasn’t overbearing, she just helped give you a little boost to help you believe in yourself again.

She was there in the hardest of times. The ones you cried yourself to sleep or drank yourself half to death just trying to forget. She’d use her sleeve as a tissue and hold your hair back when your head was in the toilet. She just wanted to be a silent reminder that you were enough.

She made it easy, and you’d spend your life repaying her even if she wanted nothing in return. She just knew you’d do the same for her.

Opening up to the others was the issue.

You had Kie and JJ who were hard headed and not shy with their emotions. Then, there was John B and Pope who could never hide the betrayal on their face no matter how hard they tried.

Betrayal.

That’s the word. What you basically did to all of them when you let Rafe into your heart. You fully expected them to shut you out. Hold you as a traitor in their eyes. Except they offered the opposite. A listening ear. A sit down to let you explain yourself fully and uninterrupted.

You had rehearsed the worst possible scenarios in your head over and over leading up to the talk with them. Would they hate you? Would they throw you out and vow to never speak to you again? They hated the Kooks with a passion and 90% of that hatred was held for Rafe.

When you got there, they were seated amongst the flames of the firepit. JJ was chugging his beer while Kie and Pope were roasting marshmallows. You stood in the shadows of the flames for a moment before approaching, watching. The smiles of your friends got you through the thick of everything. You just wished those smiles wouldn’t fade the next time they were aimed in your direction.

After a bit of playing around, you looked to Sarah who gave you a slight nod to begin. So you did. You told them everything. They let you speak. No interruptions, no sarcastic comments from JJ. Not even a single sigh. All eyes were on you. Everyone was fully focused on you and your story.

You started from the beginning. How you got there, what he did for you, how he pulled you so far from the darkness, your vision was impaired from how light the world seemed. Then, you got to how it unraveled, the Christmas party, the comments from his friends, the time after that. How it all came crashing down, and then, how it officially ended.

You expected them to judge you, comment about how weak you must have been to fall in love with someone like Rafe. You expected disappointment, disgust or even anger.

And they were angry. Just not at you.

They hated Rafe before and they hated him even more now for what he did to you. This was some pogue vs kook bullshit. It wasn’t a sly comment across the beach about how cheap a surfboard looked. This was your whole heart, put on display, and then smashed with a metal bat.

You had caught a comment by JJ about how he wanted to— and I quote— “pluck Rafe’s teeth out one by one and then sell them to the tooth fairy for profit, but I’ll keep one as a little momento for myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how absurd your friend was. Another reason to love this group.

The one thing that had shocked you most was the fact that they gave him the credit of helping you. They didn’t excuse what he did, but they didn’t deny the way you seemed happy all those months. Like you were floating through life instead of digging yourself deeper like before. You laughed more. The brightness in your dulled skin came back. There was a glow to you.

They noticed how it faded again after that Christmas night. That the bottle of vodka was glued to your hand again. How the darkness slowly took over again. You were miserable, nothing seemed worth it to you anymore.

They remembered the last anniversary of your mothers death and how much worse it was for you than the first. How the unknown loss of Rafe’s comfort only amplified it too.

The first year it was raw. Your grief was still fresh. You were still numb to it all. There were constant calls from family that barely spoke to you before the incident. They all braced for the breakdown but it never came. They didn’t know why or how it didn’t but they never wanted to push you.

The second was harder on you. It wasn’t just a dead mom and a missing father. It was the absence of your constant. The reason you were able to keep going. You explained to them the similarities between you and Rafe. They all had seen a new side of him that night. Especially Sarah, her older brother never confided in her with what he went through after the loss of their mother. He always expected to be a man, he was never able to show a weak side in the Cameron household.

He was your anchor. He’s what kept you steady when the waves got a little too rough. Then, the night the chain that kept that anchor connected to you snapped it left you drifting away again. It left you lost, floating in a black endless sea, with no shore in sight.

It was a new kind of loneliness. Parents are supposed to stick around. That’s what they sign up for. They aren’t supposed to up and die on you one day. They aren’t supposed to get lost in alcohol and leave in the middle of the night. But finding someone who stayed because they wanted to was different. Somehow that pain hurt a little more.

Either way, they noticed what he did for you and that mattered. Even if it was for only a short amount of time. Even though it hurt, you appreciated it.

The talk with the pogues went better than you could have ever imagined. It felt like another weight was lifted off your chest. Holding in that secret from them was toughbut you got through it. Just another thing you swore was going to break you, but you were able to overcome it.

It was a cold day in the Outer Banks. February tends to be the worst of the winter. Just when you think youre about to get over the hump of winter, mother nature makes sure to hit you one last time before the chill calms down. It’s the kind of cold you could feel down to your bones.

You still had your two jobs, although you worked less due to school but your managers were more than happy to accommodate you. Wrapped up in a coat and scarf your boots crunched over the light dusting of snow that still covered the ground from the last night of snow as you made your way into your shift at the restaurant.

Times had been quiet in the past working here. The restaurant was settled right on the line between the cut and figure eight. It was neutral territory. You never really worried about any kooks showing up unannounced. This was more of place for pogues and tourons who’d still pass through obx even on the off season. Besides, they’d usually choose the country club over a place like this anyways. This place was too casual, too laid back, too real for people like them.

You never worried about running into any of them here.

You thought you had gone crazy for a moment, walking out to the bar from the back office. You swore you heard a familiar laugh, and that’s why your brain rejected the sound at first.

Until you heard it again.

When you looked up, you saw them. Topper and Kelce, sat with a couple of girls and another guy you couldn’t tell who he was from the back. He had broad shoulders and a buzz cut, but that was about all you could pick up.

You felt the blood rush to your heart, it pounded so hard you thought someone would be able to see it beating beneath your shirt.

It was the first time in a long time that you had seen his group of friends. Usually, it was out somewhere you’re able to easily slip through the crowd and get lost. Here you were trapped in the confinement of four walls of the restaurant. No escape route in sight.

They were in your section, because of course they were.

There was no one around to swap the table with. Neither manager would come out to take one table off your hands. You had no choice but to go over. You could already feel the sweat dampen your palms. Wiping them off on your apron, you grabbed your notepad and paper and walked over to the table.

You are strong now. You had a good head on your shoulders. You were better than whatever they imagined in their heads. The words replayed in your head, even though each step felt more like your legs were hardening to stone.

With nothing but a fake customer service smile you landed at the end of the table, eyes on your notepad in hand. “Welcome, what can I get you guys started with?”

The table in front of you went quiet. All eyes on you, you could feel it without looking up. Topper's smug smirk flashed instantly. Kelce huffed out a quick laugh. The girls looked you up and down like your existence insulted them beyond belief.

Topper spoke first, “wow pogue, no proper introduction? No name? Just straight to business?”

“You know my name, Topper. You tend to talk about us a lot and business is what I'm here for. What do you want to drink?” Your voice was even despite the nerves radiating inside you.

His smirk faltered just a bit. Teeth clenched together as he held back another sarcastic remark. The table tells you their drinks and appetizers. You barely look up from the notepad as you scribble down their orders. Walking away before anything else uglier could be said.

You brought their food orders to the back, making your way to the bar to make three whiskey neats and some fruity monstrosities that make you wonder why they even ordered alcohol.

You tried to pay no mind to the table, you really did. But you couldn’t help but overhear Topper going on and on about you. He wasn’t subtle in the slightest. It was quiet enough for you to not hear everything, but purposefully loud enough for you to pick up on it.

Remarks about you, your friends. The girls chimed in with comments on the look of your clothes. Kelce sat and laughed about every little thing. The guy in the end barely engaged with the conversation. Did they really have nothing better to talk about?

Unfortunately for you, you finished their drinks before you even realized. Stacking them on the tray, you steady it on your arm and walk back to the table. You passed 2 of the whiskies and the girls drinks out, without a single thank you by the way.

Before you could make your escape again, Topper, the most experienced instigator on the island, spoke up. “Hey, uh, how’s your dad doing with the alcohol problem? Do you keep in touch? Or are you considered dead to him too?”

Everything inside you stilled. Your hand carrying the last drink shook slightly at the mention of your dad.

The nonchalant comparison to you and your mother, like it was no big deal, stung immensely. He said it so casually. Like it was some sort of punchline. Ignoring the fact that you and your family were still people. He doesn’t know what that tragedy did to you. In all honesty, he probably doesn't even care.

The table was quiet in anticipation to see how you’d react. Your mouth was dry, you didn’t want to respond. You didn't want him to see the way his words could get to you. You did, however, lift your head to see where you were placing the last glass. The shaking and the nerves piling up, you be lucky to not drop it right off the table.

When you did your eyes landed on piercing blue ones. Rafe. All the air that had been in the room felt as if it sucked right out. He looked different. Older, leaner. The buzz cut defined his feature more than ever. You could see the way he almost shoved himself into the corner so this wouldn’t happen.

His eyes were soft when they looked back at you. But yet again, he didn't say a word. Not when Topper made his nasty remarks. Not when Kelce thought this encounter was the laugh of the century.

“Aw guys look, it’s a little reunion.” More laughter followed from everyone else at the table. Still no word from him.

The sound was like nails on a chalkboard. The sound of privileged, hollow kook laughter made you sick. Still, your eyes were only on Rafe.

You set his glass down and turned your attention back to Topper when he spoke up again, “are you allowed to even make the drinks? They say addiction is probably genetic. You get it from your old man too?”

Everyone on the island knew what happened that night. A drunk driver killed his wife and fled the scene, leaving a daughter behind to fend for herself. No one had any compassion for the circumstances. Not when they thought of it as just another pogue adding to the statistics of how life is on the cut.

You couldn’t think rationally anymore. You didn’t play about your family. His comments didn’t bring remembrance of your mother's death. It reminded you of the soft touch of her fingers on your cheek, or the way she’d hold you when you were sad. Although some anger still lingered for your dad, memories only flooded back with him. Icees after your softball games, you attempting to teach him how to surf. Topper should be so lucky to not understand what this kind of like is like.

Before you could stop yourself– the palm of your hand stretched out and connected itself to Topper's nose. The sounds of the bones crushing was enough to pause the actions of every other patron around you. It was followed by a high pitched shriek that only Topper could make. Then, the scraping of his chair and the immediate smell of the blood rushing from his nose.

You couldn’t believe that you did that. Your eyes didn’t leave your hand. The sting from the contact burning, but the adrenaline rushing through your veins hasn’t allowed the pain to reach your senses yet. You were impressed by yourself that you were able to do it. But still a little angry that you let him get to you at work, where you take pride in the way you carry yourself.

Blood rushed from his nose instantly. His hand that wasn’t trying to contain the nosebleed scattered around the table to napkins, anything, to press against it. He was yelling at everyone to do something, as if they shared enough brain cells to offer him any help.

You raced back to the bar from the scene, where you now know your manager witnessed the entire ordeal. You began to remove your apron, apologizing profusely. Expecting the worst– being fired. Being blacklisted from every other restaurant in the area. You always did this. From 0-100, it was impossible for you not to do when things have always ended so poorly in the past.

“I’m so sorry, Tim. I-”

Tim shook his head, cutting you off before you could spiral in your thoughts anymore, “you have nothing to be sorry for. Kook deserved it if you ask me. I heard it all. But please take the rest of the night off. You didn’t deserve that.”

A breath that you hadn’t realized released from your chest, shaky and uneven. A soft laugh of disbelief followed right behind. Disbelief of your actions, disbelief that Tim was so understanding, disbelief that piece of shit kook cost you a night of tips.

You could still hear the table behind you going. Topper throwing profanities left and right, pogue bitch this, pogue bitch that, something else about payback. After confirmation from Tim about this not affecting your job or paycheck, you honestly couldn’t care less about Topper's nose.

You were in the middle of grabbing a baggie of ice to place onto your palm, the pain now starting to get to you. When a fist slammed down on the table so hard, rattling of glasses came after. You turned to see Rafe, leaning over the table towards Topper. His ears are flaming red, and his shoulders tense.

He was muttering something low, too quiet for you to hear, but serious enough to shut Topper up. One of the girls was balled up into the other, freaked out about what was happening in front of them. Rafe didn’t care. When he thought his message was clear, he grabbed his coat and headed for the entrance.

He didn't give the table a second glance– because his eyes were locked on you.

His eyes no longer carried the look of anger. They carried a look of sadness. Some sense of longing or regret. Even with the new hair and more defined grown look he had, there was still something so innocent about the way he walked away. Like a boy who didn't know how to fix what he broke, but damn, did he want to.

You shuffle your way into the Chateau, all the other pogues stung out on the couches. Sarah noticed you first, sitting up, not expecting you until midnight. “What’re you doing back so early?” She looked down at her watch, "didn't your shift start 40 minutes ago?”

“It did. Cut short. No biggie.” You try to play it off, not really wanting to get into it and go to set your heavy bag down, heavy with books from your class earlier today. But it slid down your arm to your hand that now has a slight bruise beginning to bloom. You hiss against clenched teeth.

Sarah’s concern only grew stronger. She jumped from the couch, pulling your hand into hers examining the bruise herself. “What the hell happened?!”

With just a sigh, “Topper happened.”

Sarah gasped, dramatic as always, “Topper attacked you?”

A small giggle of irony let out before you could stop it. The irony being that you were the aggressor here for once, and not one of the boys. “Actually, Topper ran his mouth and I attacked him.”

“No fucking way.” Sarah laughed, making you laugh. “You need to tell me more.”

You glanced at all your friends, still mindlessly watching TV. You pulled her from the living room into the kitchen. They know about Rafe now, but it doesn't mean you want to get into every little thing with the entire group. Especially when you think you're just overthinking the whole thing.

You went over everything with her. The table, Topper’s comments, the hit. She laughed through the whole thing. Then you got to Rafe. They eye lock, the silence, then they fist slam… and the look.

“Well that’s gotta mean something, right?”

You looked at her seriously. “I don't think so.”

Only because you didn’t. Rafe wouldn’t care, not after all this time. Not after showing his true colors that Christmas night. You refused to believe. Sarah had other thoughts.

“You know that I’m the last person to defend my brother. But… he’s really not been the same. The time he was with you, even without me knowing, he was kinder. More gentle. They way he used to be with me when we were kids.”

You sigh, “Sarah-”

She puts her hands up to stop you. “Just listen. Please.”

“Fine go.”

“Now he’s cold again. When I go back home, he just sits in his room with music blasting. He doesn’t check his phone. Wheezie said he doesn’t really even go out anymore. What if he really regrets everything and doesn’t know how to fix it? What if losing you was the worst thing that he ever did? I know my brother and this isn’t him.”

Your thoughts run wild. What if Rafe still wanted this? No. He would've done something about it already. What if Sarah’s right? He did get mad this afternoon, so there mist be something there still. It was always hard for him to come forward with his thoughts. Even when it was just you and him.

His edges were rough. Sharpened so much, a slight touch could prick your finger like a thorn on a rose. He doesn’t know how to go about things, that was clear. But then you thought about how you weren’t that girl anymore. The one who waited. Who would lose herself in a world that wasn’t reality. It was a tug of war with where you wanted to stand now, and what your heart still felt for him.

Before you could think anymore, JJ ran into the kitchen, "don't mean to interrupt whatever's going on,” but of course he did. “But there’s a party tonight. Beer, kook liquor, hot girls. We’re going. No discussion.”

Sarah turned to you, "whatya say? Might be good to forget about today.”

JJ interrupted again, “what happened tod-?”

You and Sarah whipped your heads toward JJ. The daggers in your eyes are enough to shut him up. “Leave J.”

“Idunno, Sar. Not really feeling a party.” You wave your hand around, hoping your injury would be an excuse enough in itself.

“Pleaseeee, lets forget about. One night. It's been a few weeks. Since you’ve been out” She pouted her lips, and batted her eyes. Manipulative as ever. “Besides, a cold drink in your hand, would settle the nerves inside while keeping the bruising down on your battle wound.”

If there’s anyone that could make you laugh the way Sarah did, you hadn’t met them yet. She always had a way to get you out of your own thoughts.

“Fine, let me shower first.”

You raced in the shower, only to come back to your designated room in the house to find the skimpiest outfit you own put together laying on the bed and Sarah at the vanity with a blow dryer in her hair.

Safe to say– it was going to be a long night.

Arriving at the party always came with looks. A group of pogues coming into a kook space is never a wanted thing. The eyes on you didn’t bother you one bit, everyone was just there to have fun. They stared but most of them really never bothered you.

Sarah passed you a cup of something, filled to the top with ice. The coolness of it felt good against your palm. The warmth of it traveling down your throat eased any nerves of seeing him. Guess Sarah was right… again.

A few hours into the party, JJ had already skinny dipped into the freezing pool. Pope and Cleo were cuddled up into the corner, JB and Sarah danced the entire time. You stood close to Kie, in your own world. Just watching the party happen in front of you, the liquor doing its thing.

Kie then turned, introducing you to Damien, someone she met while volunteering at the beach. She nudged him toward you, unaware of what went on this afternoon. “I was telling Kyle a lot about you, he wanted to finally meet you.”

He was cute, the conversation flowed easily. There was nothing about him that was overwhelming and how tone seemed genuine. It took you off guard how easy it actually was. You spoke about life here, about school. Really anything.

The night was going really well, until some grabbed your shoulder and spun you around.

Topper.

His nose was bright red and purple. There was still some dried blood along his nostrils. “Nice party right, pogue?”

Confrontation wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t going to let Topper know that. A pussy who hides behind his family’s money. He doesn’t deserve to feel like a king here.

“It was going great until you interrupted my conversation.”

He was seething immediately. His eyes were wild. Not looking like a polished figure eight boy now. “You think this is funny?” He pointed at his nose. “You think you just get to do this and walk away?”

“You were the one running your mouth.” You matched his stance. Refusing to back down, despite your pulse hammering in your ears.

He stepped closer, invading your space. His voice is low and threatening. “You’re gonna get what’s coming to you. I fucking mean it.”

“You’re not gonna do shit, Topper. Get the fuck away from me.” You were seething just as equally now. You were tired of kooks thinking they own the island. That they can get away with anything they do.

“You don’t get it do you? The things I'm capable of. I could throw your ass in jail so fast. Areested, right here in the middle of this party. Handcuffed and walked out. The shame of the Outer Banks.” Then he laughed. A weird, American Psycho laugh. “Maybe you could be shackled up next to daddy… if he ever takes responsibility for what he did.”

“Having your judge grandpa fight your battles for you again, Topper?” The thought of hitting him again crossed your mind. You were beginning to see red.

“Can you do anything for yourself? You’re gonna tell him you're scared of a little pogue waitress? On top of getting a party of underaged drinkers invaded by the sheriffs department?”

Something flickered in his eyes briefly. Embarrassment? Anger? You couldn’t afford to care anymore. You knew he was all talk.

“You think you’re tough all of the sudden?”

“That question goes both ways, friend.”

Your hand came up to sarcastically pat him on the shoulder, but he was quick and snatched your wrist. His grip was tight, like he was intentionally trying to cut off the blow flow.

“Don’t ever touch me with those filthy hands again.” Then a force erupted against your chest. He shoved you hard, throwing you into Damien. Making him speak up.

“Dude, what the fuck is your problem?”

Damien didn’t even get the chance to really do anything before Topper was pulled back hard but the collar of his shirt. His eyes went wide as he was thrown to the ground. More confused than ever. Rafe had grabbed him. He must’ve seen the whole thing. Rafe stood over him. Fists balled at his sides, eyes wild.

He lowered himself so that he was closer to Topper’s face. Without breaking eye contact with him, he pointed up to you. “You ever touch her again, you’re fucking dead.”

“Are you fucking kidding me Rafe?” Topper went to sit up but Rafe wouldn’t let him. His arm now coming across his chest, pressing down on him with all his body weight.

“She tried to put her hands on me first, man!”

“I dont give a fuck, Top. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you ever wonder why no one fucking likes you?”

“She-” Before Topper could come up with another excuse, Rafe’s fist whipped across his cheek.

“You,” a blow, “don’t,” another blow, “get to touch her.” One more blow, before Topper was able to get the upper hand, pushing Rafe off him. Now both were on their feet.

Topper squared up, “since when do you actually give a fuck?” Then he caught Rafe’s cheek with his own fist.

It was a full on brawl now. Punches flew. Elbows jabbed. The drink table was hit so many times the floor was now covered in liquor and glass. The music was shut off. People were shouting. Some egging the fight on, some begging them to stop. Blood began to pool on the floor.

And you? You couldn’t even move. YOur eyes were locked on the fight. Expression painted in horror.

Kelce and Damien were near, trying to find an opening to get in between. There was no use; they were in too deep. You had seen fights break out before, those didn’t compare. This was pure violence. Each impact had you flinching. The pogues had just raced in, gathering next to you. Sarah gave you a knowing look. You didn’t even need to know what she was thinking. You already did.

You felt horrible. This was because of you. Rafe’s all of the sudden over protectiveness for you and Topper thinking he could push you around. Topper’s threats of someone walking out in handcuffs might actually happen tonight and it wouldnt be for you. You didn’t want that to happen.

“Stop! Please stop!” You tried to scream as loud as you could. But the action and tunnel vision they had for each other, didn’t allow them to hear your cries to stop.

Finally, Kelce was able to drag Rafe away from the scene. His face was bruised, cut and already beginning to swell. “Rafe, chill out man.” He didn’t, he couldn’t. Adrenaline running rampant throughout him, he won’t chill out for a while.

He shoved Kelce off of himself the second he was steady on his feet. His chest was heaving, eyes were wild. It took a minute for him to really take in everything that happened. For him to get back to reality. When he finally did, he didn’t say a word. He just turned and walked out the front door.

Topper dropped to the ground exhausted. His breathing was just as hard. Blood soaked his pastel colored shirt. Kelce moved over to him next, trying to keep him sitting up right, and getting him to drink water.

The room was still buzzing from the aftermath. It reeked of spilled vodka, there was a sound of crunching from everyone stepping on glass. COnversations about what happened and if someone should actually call the cops.

All the while, your eyes never left the direction Rafe disappeared to. Nothing was left in your view. Just the cold breeze of the February night that rushed in from the door slamming behind him.

Damien tried to catch your attention, “Hey, you alright?” His question came out worried, scared even. Like he didn’t just meet you tonight. He really was sweet, genuine, but your mind wasn’t here with him.

“Yeah, fine.” Your response was quick, not meaningful. He kept talking about your wrist, Topper, the fight. His words faded into the background. All you could see was Rafe’s face. His bruised and battered face, that’ll probably haunt you for a lifetime.

Sarah with a watchful eye, followed your line of sight. She noticed, because of course she does. She stepped beside you, nudging your shoulder. “Go. You’ll never know if you don’t.”

You swallowed. This wasn’t about the past. It didn’t erase it. But he stepped in. He didn’t even hesitate this time. You told Damien you’ll be back in a minute. Turning away from someone who already felt safe. You gave her a knowing nod and that’s exactly what you did. You went to him. Back to the chaos.

An: better late than never right? The choose your own path parts will probably be up tomorrow night. Thought I’d leave you on a little cliffhanger before you get to read the finale that you’d want. I don’t expect this to do well, but I hope that those who were excited for it, enjoy what I wrote. 🩵

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