toxic!childhoodbsf!fratboy!rafe cameron x kook!reader
🪽 cw: implied child abuse, toxic rafe, swearing, mentions of y/n
you learned at an early age that rafe never liked going home.
he didn't have to say it, not aloud atleast but it was obvious from the start that his life wasn't as clean cut and perfect as his family always presented it to be.
you originally met him because you lived opposite him in figure eight. when ward would go out for "business" and rose would go with him, leaving sarah and him alone, the cameron's would often pay your parents a decent amount to take care of them while they were gone. sarah would always dip down to the beach with your father, always leaving you and rafe by yourselves.
at first it was awkward, but like gravity you two soon found your footing. and it then became tradition for the two of you to spend time together, when your house was just you and rafe's.
even though the pair of you didn't go to the same school, every year for the next seven, until you guys were fifteen - the year that everything changed - he'd be the first on your birthday list, the one you always went over to when you scraped your knee.
sometimes, too, he would come over to your house in the evening. and whenever your mother would offer for him to stay for dinner, he'd swallow and pale and shake his head. "thank you but no thank you, ms y/l/n" he'd say, as you'd walk with him out. even at eight, he was eerily polite. "my father won't like it."
you weren't smart, then. you'd never understand why mr cameron wouldn't allow it. he seemed like a respectable man and so you saw no harm in asking. "why won't your father like it?" you'd asked. and to that, rafe would only give a thin-lipped smile and shrug. "he's always been funny." when your face would crinkle, he'd nudge you. "another time though, i'm sure."
that 'another time' never came.
the year you moved was when everything changed.
by this time, you and rafe were both fifteen. times had adapted, and you were no longer two children but teenagers. rafe hadn't gotten any better at hiding his father's abuse: often, he'd come over to yours with long-sleeves, even in the scorching summer, and when you'd question it, he'd just say that it was the most comfortable he was with it. but you weren't as blind then.
rafe had also grown to be undeniably handsome. sometimes, when the two of you would lie by each other's side on your roof, you'd have to put your hands over your eyes, insisting that it was the sun, just to restrain yourself from staring at him. but as often as that happened, you'd be worried of confessing your feelings.
rafe was your best friend, not your fucking boyfriend. but sometimes, when you'd hug him by and he'd rest his temple against yours, it didn't really feel like it.
a few months after that back and forth, your parents had decided to move. it wasn't one of their best decisions, but they'd found business elsewhere. and as soon as they told you, your first thought was immediately: rafe.
you never told him. how could you? you knew you was his only sanctuary from whatever happened behind closed doors with his father, and you were too cowardly to see his reaction when you'd say that you were leaving.
so it never happened, and he never knew, not until the day you actually left. your parents were already in the car, boxes loaded up, and when they saw rafe they exchanged a look before leaving you by yourself outside.
"the fuck is this?" rafe said roughly. he had a buzzcut then and he squinted at you.
you felt your heart plummet to your feet. "rafe —"
his eyes scanned over the van with the words 'MOVING' plastered right across it. "the fuck?" he repeated, eyes incredolous. "you're moving?"
when there was nothing but silence, he scoffed. "and you never told me?"
"i didn't want you to —"
"i can't believe you. you're my best-friend and you couldn't even tell me?"
you see your mother look at you from out the window, her message clear. you had a plane to catch and also a best friend to leave behind. "look, i'll be back within a few years. i'll —"
he stepped so close to you that you could see the faint bruise on his cheek. "bullshit. you're leaving me here." his voice cracked. "with him."
"i'll come back, rafe, i promise —"
"yeah, they all fucking promise, don't they?" he ran a hand over his face and when he looked back at you, his face softened. "please don't leave me, y/n."
"there's nothing i can do, rafe. i'm so sorry —"
"you're not." he snapped, and you forgot how fast his mood changed until he did that. always happy and then angry the next. "you're not, don't say that, you're —"
unable to stand it anymore, you shook your head. "bye, rafe."
just as you turned, his hand clamped around your wrist and tugged you so close to him that your head almost slammed into his chest. he was so fucking close that you had the stupidest thought that he was going to kiss you.
but he didn't. "please. you can't leave me."
"i'm sorry, rafe."
he didn't say anything. when you extracted his hand from yours, he shook his head. "fuck you, y/n. you're like all of them." and before you could even ask what that meant, he was already walking away.
and now here you are, in the present, coming back to outer banks after two years. business didn't work out as well as it should've for your parents, and as you're helping move boxes back up the familiar steps that you once sat with rafe on, you can't help but look over at his house.
it's the exact same, maybe with some peeling paint but the literal exact same. same neatly trimmed bush, closely cutt grass and a sense that you were pretty unwelcome there.
"you'll see rafe later, hm?" your mom says nicely, and you just nod, because she still doesn't know that it ended badly between you two.
"yeah, i'll pay him a visit."
the next time you see him, it's at a frat party.
you didn't even know he was going to be there. one of your new friends, kiara cerrara, invited you over, and as you're navgiating yourself to get one of those red solo cups, you see him.
and it's not the same rafe you left behind.
for one, he has curtain bangs now instead of the buzzcut you once adored. he's leaning against a counter, the lighting dark, but you can see it on his face. maybe because you grew up with him, or maybe because even at your age, whenever rafe drank, he was always an open book.
his eyes meet yours at the exact same time you look at him. for a split second, there's nothing. just the music playing in the background of the party, both of you holding your plastic cups. and then you're moving over to him and he's watching, like he's uncertain if he should punch or kiss you.
"y/n." he says, and his voice has changed, too. more rougher and abrasive, like he'd been screaming. "the last person i thought i'd see."
"hi, rafe." you say, but it comes out weak because this isn't the rafe you'd expected to see.
"what you doing back here?" he sets his cup down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, but you can't mistake the condescending tone. "would've thought your ass was long gone from here."
"my parents —"
"yeah, always about them, wasn't it?" he says, that tone more prominent in him now. "always about what they wanted."
"rafe —"
"don't fucking 'rafe' me." he snaps coldly. "you left me there, you know that? left me in that fucking house to wherever god knows what happened."
"i didn't know —"
"yes you did. don't fucking say that. everyone knew. still does, and no one does a thing."
"i was just a child, i didn't know anything then." but even the argument sounds weak, because you knew, but you was as scared as he was.
"so was i." his voice cracks, and he looks away, jaw flexing. "look, y/n, it's nice to see you around but i —"
"i'm sorry," you burst out. sometimes you'd rehearse this in your head: the apology. and it'd appeared more on the plane back here. "i'm so sorry, rafe, because i did know. i do. and i didn't know what to do, because it was weird and i should've told you but i didn't because i —"
"i don't care, y/n." he says dryly, already turning away. "i don't care. it's too fucking late."
"don't say that." you say almost desperately. "it's not. let me make it up to you."
he snorts. "how?"
"just —" unable to express anything, you just hug him.
you've always been an affectionate person. you don't overthink it: instead, you wrap your arms around him and just rest your head over his chest. he smells like weed and alcohol but you ignore it all.
he's still, but then only one of his arms comes around your shoulders before finally the other wraps around your waist. there's silence, just the thrum of the party, before he presses his forehead to yours. "i fucking needed you, y/n."
"i'm sorry."
"you were the only person who knew."
and so then, it doesn't happen all at once. that would be too easy, and rafe is everything but that. because the second time you see him, he's snorting a line in a party, his eyes dilated to wide while he's in a polo that he keeps roughly tugging at his neck.
"rafe." you almost have to scream at him so he can hear you above the music.
his eyes dilate even further when he sees you. you try to ignore how that makes you feel as he chucks a few bills on the table and stands up. "y/n."
"since when do you do lines?" you say, almost a little hurt.
"since always. you'd know that if you'd fucking been there."
he's still hurt. of course he is, and yet it still lands so wrong you can't help the involuntary wince. "i thought we got over it."
"oh yeah, baby, we have. but y'know, shit still stings."
"rafe," you say quietly, "i think you need help."
he leans down, tapping his ear, "what was that, baby?"
"you need help."
"oh yeah, which you could've provided me with."
"for fuck's sake, you could've helped yourself too." you snap.
his eyes light up, as if he's been waiting for you to say that. "there she is. cause of course you’d say that. it’s easier to blame me than admit you left me there."
your jaw drops. "it wasn't my fault, rafe. that's not fai r."
he lets out a hollow laugh. "fair? you wanna talk about fair now? where was that when i was still stuck there and you were gone? you didn’t fight it either," he shoots back. "you didn’t even look back."
"that’s not true —"
"then where were you?" his voice cuts through yours. "huh? all that time, where were you?"
"i thought you were okay," you say, weaker now, though that's definetly not ture. "no one told me anything."
"yeah, that’s convenient," he mutters. "just assume everything’s fine so you don’t have to feel guilty."
your frustration spikes. "i didn’t know, rafe! what was i supposed to do from miles away?"
"anything," he snaps. "a call, a message — something. but no, you just moved on like none of it mattered."
"that’s not what happened!"
"it is from where i’m standing," he says coldly. "you got your fresh start, and i got left behind."
you shake your head. "you’re acting like i had some kind of choice. i didn’t."
"there’s always a choice," he says. "you just picked the one that was easiest for you."
that stings, and he knows it. "you don’t get to blame me for everything that went wrong in your life," you fire back. "i wasn’t even there."
"exactly," he says, quieter now, but sharper. "you weren’t there." the words hang between you. "and you never came back."
you swallow. "i didn’t think you’d even want me to."
he gives a small, bitter smile. "guess that made it easier, didn’t it?"
"fine." you say, "i'm leaving."
his smile immediately drops and he lunges for your wrist, nails digging into yours as he yanks you towards him. "wait, don't leave."
as your so close to his face now, that your noses are brushing, you can't help but feel how close you guys are to kissing. how close it was like this when you left him, the catalyst of all this.
"i'm just bitter, okay? i missed you, and you're back, and it's the, um, — " he taps the side of his head "— its just the drugs saying shit. but i promise, you've only — "
"rafe."
"and, look, meet me when i'm sober and when i'm not all riled up and shit."
"rafe. i meant it when i said you need help."
he just blinks at you like he can't even believe you'd go there. "okay. okay, whatever. i'm just saying that it — it fucking hurts, okay?"
"did you take alchohol too?" you ask, almost desperately, but his grip is iron clad.
"yes. yes, and look. look at me, y/n. i love you."
heat rushes to your face. you always suspected, always knew, but you never wanted it to come out like this. and that it is, is . . . humiliating. "rafe — "
"i love you. i'm in love with you. i've loved you forever. forgive me, please." when you shake your head, he bends down to your level. "what, baby? you don't love me?"
"you know that's not true." you snap harshly.
he blinks, mouth slightly parted as he scans your eyes. it seems as if he's finally sobered up. "you love me?"
"you think i'd be putting up with your bullshit otherwise?"
his face both tightens and relaxes. why is it impossible to figure him out? and, for another moment, you think he's going to kiss you. but then he shakes his head, steps back into the chests of topper and kelce, who are already there, then just walks off, leaving you alone.
Rafe gets caught spying on reader thru windows (feat. Topper & Kelce)
Rafe sighs again dramatically on your shared a bed as you get ready in front of him. He hates your friends and hates that you even go out with them. He’s almost entirely convinced they’re trying to find you a different man.
“How’s this?” You give him a spin, showing off your outfit. A short black dress with a low cut. But to Rafe, you might as well be wearing a napkin.
“Hell no, showing too much.” He protests for the fifth time that night.
“Rafe..you gotta let me wear something..” you whine, already searching for something else.
“How about you change into that slip I bought you and come get into bed with me,” Rafe smirks as you turn and stare at him unamused.
Eventually though you find something, Rafe was still hesitant, but seeing you become upset led him to giving in. A denim mini skirt with a halter top and of course with something underneath the skirt since it was just a dinner. Rafe didn’t know why you had to dress so beautifully, anyway.
By the time you were in the car, Rafe hadn’t let go of you once, clinging onto you the whole time. A look of defeat fell on his face as you really shut the car door in front of him. It was cute, really, seeing him pout for once over nothing.
“Bye I guess.. dunno why you gotta go..” he huffs, standing like a child. “I’ll be back before 11. Make sure you feed the fish.” You smile, giving him a quick kiss before backing out of the driveway.
“Stupid fucking fish..” Rafe mumbles to himself as he walks back inside, kicking the air like a petulant child. He sighs as he stops in front of the tank, watching the various fish swim around in what he felt like was stupidly large. Why do they need 20 gallons? “Bet you don’t have to worry about losing your girl, huh?” He sighs, maybe genuinely losing his mind—he was talking to a fish, for fuck's sake.
That was when Rafe had a brilliant plan. Maybe the fish were wiser than he thought(he’s just insane.) He immediately called Topper and Kelce to explain his master plan.
“..you’re gonna stalk her from outside?” Kelce asked hesitantly. “Hell yeah, why wouldn’t I? It’s not like she’ll see us out there.” Rafe huffs triumphantly, believing fully in his plan.
“Wait..us? As in me and Kelce too?” Topper says as he and Kelce look at each other.
And that’s how they find themselves in Rafe’s truck looking into the restaurant with binoculars. “This is so stupid.” Kelce scoffs as Topper nods along. “This is low even for you Rafe, what if she catches us?” he adds.
“Shut the fuck up, both of you, they can’t see- “Rafe starts, only to be cut off by his phone ringing. You were calling. “..us”
“Great, we’re caught. I knew this was stupid,” Kelce and Topper argue, never initially agreeing to this. “Shut up! Both of you! Just be quiet while I answer. She won’t suspect anything..” Rafe says before answering the phone.
“Hello? Baby?” Topper and Kelce hold their breath.
“Rafe. I know I don’t fucking see you and your stupid ass friends in the parking lot.”
Silence. “What..? No..baby I’m at home,”
“I have your location Rafe.” Fuck.. the three men sigh as they realize they’ve really been caught. “Get your ass in here or go home. But just wait til I get there. All of you.” You say before hanging up the phone. The guys sit in silence before deciding to go inside. That’ll be better than letting the anger marinate with them waiting at TannyHill right..?
The dinner was awkward at first. The guys sitting nearby at a different table—humiliated as the girls just laugh at them. Of course as punishment for spying they had to pay for everyone, not that it was a huge deal but still, a $60 bottle of Bordeaux and everyone got dessert? For fucks sake..
Later that night, Rafe sits there pouting on the bed, trying to get you to talk to him.
“Please, baby.. I’m sorry.. I just missed you.”
“It was barely 30 minutes, Rafe!”
“I love you too much…?”
“You’re clingy.”
Rafe sighs as he just accepts the title. Whining as he rolls over onto you. “Then let me be clingy..don’t throw me away baby..”
“Gosh, you are such a big baby..” You roll your eyes as you take him into your arms, resting his head on your chest. “I’m your baby..” Rafe mumbles quietly, only becoming soft like this when he was tired.
“Mhm.. you’re my baby, I know you’re tired.. go to sleep okay?” You hum softly, running your fingers through Rafe’s hair or lack of as he drifts off with a faint ‘hmm..’, knowing he got away from trouble with you again.
thinking about rafe, topper, and kelce, helping to teach you how to drive….
you were about to be gifted a pretty new car for your birthday but you still didn’t know how to drive so the boys said they’d help teach you! you stood in the shade picking at your nails as the boys planned an easy enough route for you to practice on without hitting anything or anyone.
“can we get going pleaseee, you guys can trust me- i read a car manual once, i know how things work….”
“fine, we should be alright i guess…” rafe mumbles as he opens the drivers side car door for you to hop in, he sticks out his hand for you to grab to help you climb into his truck. with rafe in the passenger seat next you, top and kelce in the back you put on the seat belt and place your hands onto the steering wheel to wait for instructions.
“i can’t believe you are lettin' her use your car man.” kelce shakes his head with wide eyes
“it’s better than lettin’er practice in one of yours, mine the safest one if anything were to happen.” rafe turns his head back to you “j’us don’t crash…kay?”
“mmhm…how do i start?”
rafe, with his tendency to stress easily, guiding you through the basics of starting the car and adjusting the mirrors. his hands grip on the steering wheel as he instructs you like a child to put your foot on the brake pedal.
"kay, slow and steady now babydoll" rafe says, his voice stern yet soft, letting go of the wheel so you could try keeping it straight. "we don't want to accelerate too quickly, jus' easeee onto the gas...not too much!" you press down on the pedal with your foot as the car moves forward a few inches then breaks suddenly causing everyone in the car to jolt forward.
“jesus!!…” topper breathes out, both him and kelce then grip onto the handles on the inside roof of the car.
"oh god, i'm sorry!" you wince
“s’alright s’fine just try- try again…” topper encourages as you place your foot back on the gas pedal again
slowly you start to get the hang of it, cruising slowly down the street at a decent pace, everyone seems to be relaxed as you are gaining confidence behind the wheel. then your phone starts to ring, you look down to were you set it down near the cup-holders which causes you to lose a little control of where you are going and makes the car swerve slightly and speed up.
“EYES ON THE ROAD!” they all shout boyishly, panicked and clearly stressed. rafe’s hand flies out in front of you to emphasize its importance.
“that might be kie, can i get it?”
“NO!!!” they all shout again
“jeez, ohkay!”
kelce mutters little prayers under his breath "please, let us survive this.” you let out a nervous yelp when up ahead you see a squirrel just chilling in the middle of the road.
“what do i do!”
“JUST SLOW DOWN!” “EYES ON THE ROAD!” the boys shout overlapping their panicked voices, you scream and squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head away.
“NO HEY! DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY!?” rafe shouts all rambly
“ohkay!” you hit the breaks just before the squirrel scampers off up a tree.
“ALRIGHT OUT.” rafe commands, pushing his hair back out of his face, then unbuckling you. “I’m driving the way back, switch.”
as rafe gets out of the passenger seat and rounds the hood of the car to get into the driver seat as you climb over the armrests to get to your new seat.
“jesus kid…you know what?...you wanna go somewhere in your new car? call me and i’ll take you wherever you wanna go….s’dangerous havin' you out on the roads like this.” rafe huffs as he starts the car again.
“we almost died!” topper lets scoff almost in disbelief at how things took a turn.
You shouldn’t have come tonight. That much is clear now.
The bass is rattling the picture frames on the walls of the giant Kook house, a beachside monster that belongs to someone’s dad, you’re not even sure whose. The lights are low, just glints of neon LEDs wrapped around the stair banister and the corners of the ceiling. You can barely hear yourself think. People you don’t really know keep brushing past you with drinks sloshing in red cups, laughing too loud, shouting half-remembered inside jokes across the room like they own the air.
And Rafe’s beside you.
Well... he was.
He’d been different all night. Not the usual sharp-edged, biting, mean Rafe, at least not exactly. But not sweet either. More like… distant. Anxious. Off. He’s wearing that white linen button-down that he always leaves open too low, and he’s got this wired energy in his jaw like he’s constantly clenching it to hold something in. Every time you leaned into him, trying to anchor yourself, his arm over your shoulder, your head on his chest, he didn’t really hold you back. His hands just kind of hovered.
And then he said he was going to the bathroom.
That was almost an hour ago.
You don’t wear a lot tonight, but you hadn’t exactly planned on dressing scandalous—just a tiny, sparkly, strapless top and a little black mini skirt, something light ‘cause of the heat, something cute. You’d flat ironed your beautiful long hair, because rafe says likes it out, he says it makes you look “too sweet for the shit you put up with.” And maybe it was stupid, but you wanted to look good for him. For once. Like before.
You broke up with him a month ago. You’d sworn you were done.
It had been awful. The late nights, the mood swings, the drugs. The silence. The rage. You’d ended it in a whisper because that’s just who you are, you can’t scream, you can’t throw things, you just cry until your voice disappears and then you let go.
But a week later, you ended up in the passenger seat of his truck outside a party just like this one. The windows fogged. His voice cracked. He cried. Real tears, heavy and raw. He looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the Earth.
“I’ll get clean,” he swore, forehead pressed to yours. “I’ll change, I will. I’m done with that shit. You’ll see. Just… don’t leave me.”
And you, stupid, soft, niave thing that you are. you believed him.
Because you love him.
God, you love him.
-
And so now you’re here, alone in a crowd of people you wish you didn’t know, feeling sick from the vodka someone poured way too strong in your soda and sicker from the fear rising like smoke in your chest. Something’s wrong. You feel it. Not just in your body, not just the way your head’s swimming, but in your bones.
You brush past a group of girls near the kitchen island, laughing so loud it rings in your ears. You nod when one of them—Jules, maybe—says, “You seen Rafe?” with a half-smirk like she already knows the answer.
“I’m looking for him,” you say softly. You don’t add anything else.
Your feet carry you down the hallway, dizzy and nauseous. You hate this kind of drunk, the slow, hot, heavy kind that sticks to your ribs. You don’t feel right. Your thoughts are foggy, slow. Everything feels two seconds delayed.
You stop in front of the stairs.
And then you go up.
The music softens the higher you climb. Upstairs is almost too quiet in comparison, just the dull beat leaking through the floorboards. You turn down the hall, lightheaded and buzzing with something like dread.
Then you hear them.
Laughter. Male voices. A door creaking. Something that sounds like a bottle tapping glass.
You push open the first door.
Empty.
You try the second, and this time the sound spills out loud and clear—Topper’s voice, that fake-loud laugh of his that means he’s trying too hard. Kelce too, talking over someone about something you can’t catch. Girls giggling. The smell hits you first, alcohol and something sharper, chemical, sour.
Your stomach twists.
You open the door slowly.
And there he is.
Rafe’s sitting manspread on a low leather sofa, surrounded by people who don’t care about him. A girl’s practically in his lap. His eyes are red. His smile doesn’t even look real. There’s a coffee table in front of him... lined.
Coke. Everywhere.
Your breath catches.
He sees you.
And something about his face shifts, he looks angry, brows furrowed, jaw tight. But he also looks... scared, upset, something like it, his eyes are filled with dread.
“Get up,” you say quietly, and it doesn’t even sound like your voice. “Rafe, I wanna go home."
Topper laughs. Kelce mutters something about “shit timing,” and the girls barely notice you at all, like you’re just another thing in the room. Background.
“I’m not done,” Rafe mutters, standing up slowly, brushing the girl off him like she’s nothing.
Your chest aches, and you don't even know why, how did you not expect this? how did you not see this coming? it is rafe after all.
“You said you were done with this,” you whisper, still frozen in the doorway. “You promised.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Babe. Don’t start.”
“No,” you say, and your voice is shaking now, but not loud. Never loud. “Don’t call me that.”
You don’t want to cry. You already feel like throwing up.
“Come on,” he mutters, pushing past the coffee table, grabbing your arm. “Let’s talk outside.”
You don’t resist. You can’t. Your legs are jelly and your brain is fuzzy and your heart is a hurting... again. You follow him out into the hallway and the door clicks shut behind you.
He turns to face you, eyes wild, teeth gritted. “You always do this.”
“What?” you say, confused.
“So what? your done with me again, your just gonna leave? You think your so much better then me huh?.”
“I never said that,” you say, barely above a whisper.
“You didn’t have to.”
Silence stretches between you. You look at the floor. You don’t know how to breathe.
“I love you,” he says suddenly. His voice breaks again, like it did that night in his truck. “You know that, right? You know I fucking love you. I’ve never said that to anyone else.”
“I can’t believe you,” you whisper. “You lied to me.”
“I made a mistake.”
You blink at him. “You promised me it was different, you were actually gonna make an effort this time.”
“I’m trying—”
“No,” you say softly, and this time you step back. “You’re not.”
He looks panicked. The hallway light makes his face look hollow.
“You said you’d get clean,” you say. “You said you would never ever hurt me again.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear—”
“There’s always something,” you whisper, and your hands are trembling now. “There’s always a reason, a party, or a bad day, or whatever you can come up with to make it okay.”
He stares at you like he’s begging you not to move, and begging himself not to make it worse.
“You’re a liar,” you say, and it cuts your throat to say it. “And I don’t want to be with someone I don't trust.”
He steps forward, and his voice is sharper now, angrier. “You’re just gonna leave again? That’s what you do, huh? just run away when shit gets hard.”
“Don’t,” you say quietly. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“You’re being a bitch,” he snaps. “You don’t even fucking know what I’m dealing with.”
And that’s the moment something in you. Some last, small piece, breaks.
Your voice doesn’t rise. You don’t scream. You don’t slap him or run or make a scene.
You just look at him with your wide, soft eyes and say, gently,
“Rafe… I can’t do this.”
His mouth opens, then closes.
“Please,” he whispers. “don’t leave.”
You don’t move.
“I need you.”
You shake your head. “You need help.”
He doesn’t answer.
And after a minute, you walk away.
Down the hallway, down the stairs, past the music and the smoke and the people who barely notice. You find your bag. You leave.
You don’t look back.
────── ⋆⋅ 𖤓 ⋅⋆ ──────
Hi guys, I'm a pretty new writer, that's probably obvious in the not so great quality of my writing. I'm super open to ideas, requests and making more parts so just lmk.
Also if you do want a pt 2 to this just lmk! i can tag you in it too if you'd like!
