a/n: sorry too unmotivated to fix this up at all 😢 i will when i get the energy back. based on my week lmao and not proof read or anything so sorry if it lowkey doesn’t make sense
PART TWO HERE
you know your boyfriend rafe cameron is not massively affectionate. you know this because ever since a few months ago he’s been acting more different. not returning your hugs as quickly as he used to. smiling blandly and not showing his dimples. not kissing you back as passionately as he used to but more slowly like it’s a chore.
so you can imagine the surprise when you’re scrolling through Instagram. it’s at night and you’re liking people’s stories. one is of two people - one a girl you know and the face next to her is blurred in the way photos taken too quickly are
you pass. then your heart beats erratically and you quickly swipe your thumb back.
heaven forbid
it’s your boyfriend.
for a second you stars. what’s the logical thing to do in this situation? you squint, zoom in on the face. though it’s blurred you can make out races hair, the shape of his face and his baby blue eyes that you love. loved. because if it wasnt for that the girl who was flashing a radiant smile at the camera wasn’t sitting in his lap with his arm around her waist and hers around his neck, then maybe you wouldn’t feel the heart crushing pain like you do now.
you swallow, adjusting your stance. you feel like someone’s pulled the rug out from under you, that someone stabbed you in stomach. actually that would be preferable to the amount of whatever is that you feel right now.
you blink, trying to clear your blurred vision but the gift of sight won’t come. you’ve been in love with rafe for seven months now, he’s supposed to be in love with you.
supposed to. clearly not.
the tears fall, tracking across your face. you swallow again and you hear footsteps. if it isn’t the devil himself.
he’s walking towards you, “hey baby. sorry i was out late.” you refuse to look at him and as he comes closer he notices the tear marks. “babe, what’s wrong?”
you don’t say anything. men really are a complicated species.
“y/n?” he says nervously.
fuck it. you stand up, pivoting towards him with the instagram story practically shoved in his face. gods, what a shitty way to find out. “yeah, rafe?”
for the audacity of a second, he looks confused. then the confusion turns into shock, guilt and something else in the matter of seconds.
“y/n.” his voice cracks.
“no. i don’t want to hear it.” you put your phone on standby and climb up the stairs, taking a two at a time. you hear him break into a sprint behind you and as you reach your bedroom door he grabs your elbow and pulls you back.
“just, let me explain.”
“there’s no need to explain. everything seems pretty damned clear.”
“y/n!” he shouts, panic crawling into his voice as he watches you begin stuffing all your items into your backpack. “just let me explain.”
you twist again. “go ahead.”
“i - i wont lie and say i haven’t been,” he swallows, “with her.”
“bare minimum.”
“but it’s only been for a month.”
“a MONTH?” you shout so loudly he winces. “only thirty one days? how much did i ever mean to you?”
he opens his mouth but nothing comes out. you grab your suitcase and dump everything into that too.
“you can’t even say anything, can you?” you croak, voice sore from raising your voice.
“y/n.”
“at least tell me one thing. did you ever love me?”
“more than anything.”
“well it’s clearly not enough.”
you grab your suitcase and bag, double strapping over your shoulders. and both to your satisfaction and surprise does rafe cameron follow you. not when you steal his keys and get into his car, not when you feel his eyes on you the entire time. not when you get onto the highway and don’t see his motorbike in the mirror of the car.
and certainly when you’re so disappointed by not seeing it that you don’t spot the car that drives straight into yours.
© bittersweetlyblue, do not copy, translate or edit my work as your own nor feed it into anything for your amusement.
