ambivalence part twelve: love is easy - rafe cameron
a/n: hi my sweets! sorry this took so long. i'm so happy to be writing again consistently. hope you love this, please let me know what you think xoxo
Summary: Rafe being away proves harder than he initially planned.
Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 4.2k+
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my writing
By the time Thursday rolls around, you feel like a zombie of some sort. Getting ready for a dinner you knew Rafe wouldn't be present for made you sad, to the point where you didn't bother getting dressed up in the slightest. It reminded of you of when you first broke up with John B and gave up on trying to look decent. Although, this time, you felt comfort in knowing that Rafe is only a phone call away.
"I'm sure he wishes he was here, too," Scott whispers to you at the table when he catches you staring at the empty chair beside you.
"He's probably golfing," you joke, trying your best to give Scott a convincing smile.
"Oh, God, help those people," he teases. Scott knows Rafe could beat him at a golf game blindfolded, but refuses to admit it.
You smile, then turn back to where your mother is attempting to pass you the casserole dish. You frown, just for a moment, realizing Rafe isn't here to pass to you. You brush off the expression and accept the dish from her, portioning out your food and then handing the dish to Scott. You reach for your phone, which is tucked under your left leg, and check it. No missed messages from Rafe. You sigh lightly, frustrated that you haven't heard from him since this morning. It had been a short 'Goodmorning, busy day, miss you,' text. You try to remind yourself that just because he isn't texting all day doesn't mean he isn't thinking of you, then you type out a new message to him.
I miss you.
"Have you heard from Rafe, Y/N?" Rose asks, attempting to be friendly. Your eyes flutter up to her, tucking your phone away quickly.
"Yes, a bit," you reply with a small smile.
"I bet he's missing you," she grins.
You just nod and smile, then pick up your fork and pick at your food. You can't help noting how your back feels cold without Rafe's arm tucked around your chair, or hand wrapped around your thigh under the table.
"When do you think you'll plan a visit, Y/N?" Ward asks, the same sympathetic voice you'd heard on the tarmac ringing through your ears once again.
"Um, I'm not sure," you say, noting how your voice sounds hoarse.
"Visit? In the Bahamas?" your father speaks up, "Y/N, you're in high school. You're not traveling out of the country to visit a boy, no offense, Ward-"
"No, I understand," Ward nods, gesturing toward Sarah, "It was just something Y/N and I had discussed-"
"Dad, come on-"
"I said no. That's final. Scott, pass the green beans," he mutters.
"Can't we at least discuss a visit? Just a weekend?" you protest, feeling your heart start to race in your chest.
"Not at the table," he counters, leveling you with a glare.
You sigh audibly and collapse back in your chair, glancing at your mom for a look of reassurance and instead finding nothing. You know instantly that she agrees with him. Unbelievable, you think.
You don't say another word at dinner. When the adults rise from the table for their usual wine and chit chat in the living room, you collect a few plates and make your way into the kitchen to start the dishes. As you rinse them off, you think about the night Rafe came in to help you. The night that started all of this, you realize. You're too caught up with the memories and the scrubbing to notice her until she speaks.
"Here's the rest," Sarah speaks slowly, sheepishly setting down a stack of the remaining plates on the counter beside you.
Your eyes flutter up to meet hers, but you don't speak. She stands there awkwardly, hands folding and unfolding on the counter top as she stares at you.
"If you're waiting on a thank you, I wouldn't hold your breath," you remark.
"I'm not."
You nod your head, trying not to roll your eyes. You continue to scrub, trying your best to ignore the fact that she's practically staring holes in the side of your head. After a minute or two, you finally look over at her again.
"Want me to dry?" she asks before you can speak, her voice quiet.
You're taken aback by the offer, noticing only then how she's not wearing any makeup and how tired she looks. Although, you figure you probably look the same. You swallow and silently hand her the plate you'd finished washing, watching as she tries to smile when she accepts it.
"So, how's Rafe doing, being away and all?"
She steps away and tucks the clean, dry plate into the cabinet the same way Rafe had done every time he helped you with the dishes. Envisioning his tall figure opening up your cabinet makes you smile.
"He's your brother," you say. keeping your gaze in the sink.
"We don't talk much," she admits.
"Wonder why."
Sarah sighs and throws her dish towel down on the counter, letting the silence linger for a moment before she speaks again.
"John B broke up with me."
You snap your head up to her, immediately knowing she's telling the truth when you catch her expression. She presses her lips into a line and moves her glance down to the plate in your hand, gesturing for you to hand it to her.
"He broke up with you?" you repeat, eyes wide.
She nods, "Apparently, my behavior at the wedding was less than mature."
You snort, picking up another plate, "That's the understatement of the century."
"You needed to know the truth."
"And that was the best way you thought I should find out?" you raise your voice without meaning to, glancing to the doorway as if to ensure nobody was coming in.
"Y/N-"
"Why are you even in here? I mean, I hope you weren't counting on me to be your shoulder to cry on, just because I've been through a Routledge break-up."
"I wasn't counting on that," she informs you, "I just thought you should know. And, I don't know, I thought, maybe, we could start over-"
"I don't think that's possible at this point."
Sarah goes silent. You raise your plate up in the air, not bothering to make eye contact as she accepts it. You dry one hand off and pull your phone from your back pocket, finding no messages from Rafe. You try not to be hurt by that, although you'd do anything to hear his voice right now.
"I just thought, you know, Rafe loves you, and my parents talk about you all the time-"
"So, what?" you groan, "You think you can come in here and dry off a few plates and we'll be even?"
"I just thought-"
"Well, don't," you snap at her, grabbing the rest of the dishes and setting them in the sink before you shut off the water and storm out of the kitchen, leaving Sarah alone.
Between your dad saying no to a trip to visit Rafe, not hearing from Rafe all day, and now Sarah bringing up the past, you just feel too overwhelmed to do anything. Your parents don't say a word when you hurry through the living room and up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door for full effect.
You collapse on your bed, phone ringing in your pocket. Quickly, you pull it out, not sparing a split second when you see Rafe's goofy contact picture smiling at you.
"Hey," you greet, plastering a smile on your face even though he can't see you.
"Hi, sweetheart," he replies, voice loud because of the background noise.
"Where are you?" you wince when someone on Rafe's end cheers loudly in the background.
"Oh, I'm just - hey, man, you promised you'd wait - no! Five minutes! Tequila!"
"Tequila?" you repeat, "Who are you with?"
"Baby, I'm crushing it down here," he says, his voice louder in the phone as he holds it closer to his mouth, trying to prevent the guys he's with to hear, "Yes, tequila, but it's business."
"I'm glad you're doing well," you say, voice weak.
"Yeah, well, I just wanted to check in. But, I actually have to - I'll be right there!"
"You should go," you frown.
"Anything pressing I should know about?" he asks, although his voice is chirpy, so you know he can't tell you're upset.
"No," you lie, keeping your voice light, "Nothing."
For half a second, you think Rafe knows better. You think he might stop, step outside, and ask what's going on.
"Okay. Call you tomorrow," he says quickly.
You take a deep breath, withholding your sigh, "Okay."
The sound in the phone muffles, and you hear a faint, 'Jesus, Cameron!', on the other end. You can hear Rafe's voice after, but can't make out what he says.
"All right, sweetheart," he comes back after a minute, "Love you."
"Love you, too," your voice is strained, but he doesn't seem to notice.
"Okay, bye."
You groan and throw your phone down on the bed, wishing more than anything you could just call him back and tell him everything. But, you know he's working, even if he is drinking, and the last thing you want to do is get in his way when he seems to be doing so well down there.
Just as you start to doze off, you hear the Camerons exit the house. Minus your favorite one, of course.
"Oh, thank God you're here. Marco has me on way too many tables and we're down a busser again. I have had it, I swear, and if I wasn't going to college a million miles away, I would quit."
Topper follows you into the locker room, noting your expression and your silence in response to his rant. You open your locker and shove your bag inside, busying yourself with tying your apron to avoid his lingering stare.
"Okay, you realize he's not dead, right? Just away for work," Topper remarks. You send up a glare, knotting the last tie on your apron.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just - I don't know. The look on your face. You look upset, so I just assumed it was Rafe."
"You assumed Rafe upset me?" you challenge, raising an accusing brow at him.
"Okay, let's dial back the attitude for a minute," he holds his hands up in defense, "And start over. What's going on with you?"
You frown, "I'm sorry. Last night was just..."
"Oh, God," Topper says after you trail off, "Fill me in. But do it quick."
"All right. My dad forbid me from going to visit Rafe, then Sarah asked if we could start over-"
"What?"
"-then, Rafe called, and I was upset, and he was at a bar, or something, and I barely got to talk to him. He's busy all the time down there. I barely hear from him, and when I do, the calls and texts are short. I don't want to be that needy girlfriend, y'know, but I miss him."
Topper's mouth is hanging halfway open by the time you finish, and you watch as he struggles to figure out which part of that to respond to first.
"Wow," Topper says after a minute, "I'm gonna get you a mai tai. Hang tight."
"No, Top," you reach out, grabbing his arm to keep him still, "I don't want a drink. I just want-"
"Rafe," he finishes, "I figure. I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sure he's just wrapped up in the clients and the pressure from his dad. He would never intentionally brush you off."
"I know that," you argue, "I mean, jeez, Top, it's been less than a week and I already feel like I'm falling apart without him. This is crazy."
"You're starting to sound like Rafe himself. Do you remember when you and your family went to California last summer on vacation? You were gone for two weeks, and he acted like he was going to check himself into a mental institution. I really thought he was gonna book a flight out there."
"I didn't know that," you say quietly.
"All I'm saying is, you're not crazy or whatever for missing your boyfriend. And I'm sure he misses you just the same."
You nod your head, smiling slightly when he sets his hand on your arm to comfort you. He gives you a small smile in return.
"Thanks, Top."
"Tell me more about Sarah, now," he insists, watching as you smile and shake your head.
"You should've seen the look on her face when I told her I wanted nothing to do with her."
"You don't even understand how much money I would pay to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation," he grins.
"You should've taken my place," you roll your eyes.
"Mhm. Come on, we gotta get out there," he places his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around toward the door.
Later on in your shift, once everything slows down, you spy your boss in his office. You swallow and approach the door, silently repeating your request over and over in your head to try and perfect it. He moves his glance up to you when you enter, taking off his reading glasses.
"Hey, Marco," you greet him, trying to keep your voice friendly.
"What can I do for you, Y/N?"
You take a deep breath, "Um, well, so, my boyfriend - he's on an extended business trip for his job. Anyway, I was hoping to go visit him and I was hoping to get next weekend off so I can fly down there and-"
"That's a little short notice," he frowns, "What days will you need off?"
"Thursday to Sunday," you say quickly.
"The weekend is our busiest time, you know that. And Hannah already requested off that weekend, we're gonna be down a hostess, I really don't think that's going to be possible."
You feel your anxiety start to rise, feeling the same way you felt at dinner with your dad last night. You thought that if you could convince Marco to let you have the time off, you could handle your dad, too. But, now, you're feeling as if everything's spinning out of control.
"Okay, I understand. The following weekend, then? That's more notice-"
"It won't work, either. Maggie and Ben are both off, so I'm going to have to have you and Topper working doubles as it is. I'm sorry, Y/N, but requests off are first come, first serve. I wish I could help."
He doesn't look like he means what he says, as he straightens his back in his chair and puts his glasses on again. You frown, swallowing the lump in your throat as you back out of the office. You're trying to keep yourself calm as best you can, but every part of you just wants to cry. And call Rafe.
You wipe underneath your eyes as you exit the back again, spotting Topper instantly. He drops what he's doing and comes over to you, no goofiness present on his voice.
"What's wrong?" he asks, voice gentle.
"Marco just informed me that it's impossible for me to go see Rafe," you say, feeling the tears starting to well in your eyes.
"I'm so sorry," he says, pulling you into his chest. You let the tears fall, just for a moment, then pull back.
"I have to check on my tables," you tell him, pulling away and wiping your eyes as you walk off.
"Y/N," he calls after you, "It's gonna be fine."
You just nod, no part of you believing him. It certainly didn't feel like everything would be fine. You still have three weeks to go before Rafe comes home, and you're already feeling as if your world is coming down. To make matters worse, you'd barely heard from him today, either.
Your parents call for you when you walk in the house, finding you looking like a mess. Your bag is hanging off your shoulder, ready to fall to the floor, and your eyes are red from crying on your way home. Your mom frowns but doesn't discuss it, and your dad doesn't seem to notice.
"What?" you ask them, not bothering with the formalities.
"Good day?" she questions you, eyebrow raised so far up it's practically in the air.
"My boss denied my request for time off, and a customer yelled at me for not bringing him Diet Coke. Great day," you mutter, voice sarcastic.
"Why were you trying to get time off?" your dad asks.
"Um," you hesitate, looking down at the floor, "To go see Rafe."
"Y/N," he frowns, "I thought I told you that wouldn't be happening. You're not going to the Bahamas, unsupervised-"
"Thanks for reiterating, Dad, but I'm really tired of people telling me that."
"There's no need to be disrespectful," he snaps.
"I'm going upstairs."
"I'm sorry, honey," your mom says, voice quiet, "But, your dad's right. You're still in high school. But don't get us wrong, you know we love Rafe-"
"Yeah, I get it," you say, already halfway up the stairs, "Thanks so much."
The second your bedroom door closes, you dial Rafe. The line rings once, twice, three times, before you hear his voicemail message. You can't believe his voicemail is the most you've heard his voice today. You hang up before leaving a message, not wanting to tell him this over the phone.
An hour goes by before he finally calls you back. It's FaceTime, rather than just a phone call. You frown at the time, ready to go to sleep and not wanting to have this conversation with him, now. Getting yourself all worked up again sounds like hell.
"Hi," you greet, quickly glancing at yourself to ensure you don't look like a total mess.
"Hi, sweetheart," he smiles, looking tan and happy, "How are you?"
You try your best to give him a smile, letting his voice comfort you, "I'm good."
Rafe frowns quickly, giving you a pouty look, "You're lying. Is something wrong?"
"No," you say quickly, groaning when his frown only deepens, "Rafe."
"Rafe, what? I'm not the one lying. What's going on with you? I feel like we haven't talked in a bit. Tell me what's up."
"You're saying that like it's my fault we haven't spoken," you say before you can help yourself, sitting up in bed.
"Are you saying it's mine?"
"I don't know," you look away from him, not able to watch his blue eyes soften in the camera. He sits up, too, expression completely transformed from what it had been when you picked up.
"Talk to me," he insists. You're surprised when all you see on his face is concern.
"Rafe, I-"
You stop abruptly, letting the silence linger for a moment. He shifts again, squirming out of anxiety for whatever you have to tell him.
"Sweetheart, if you don't start talking soon, I'm getting on a plane," he says, and although you know he's joking, he looks serious.
"No, it's fine," you say quickly, "I just have to tell you something."
"Okay," he says slowly.
"So, last night at dinner, my dad caught wind of the fact that I'm trying to come see you and-"
"And he said no," Rafe finishes for you, frowning.
"Yeah," you nod, looking down again, "And then, today, I asked Marco for time off, and he basically told me it was impossible and I got really upset-"
"Marco made you cry?" he says urgently, shifting yet again.
"Top was there," you say, as if that's supposed to make it better.
"There to comfort you," he guesses.
"What?"
"Nothing," he mutters, "So, you aren't coming."
It's a statement, not a question. You sigh, taking a deep breath before you nod. Rafe swears under his breath, rubbing his free hand over his face. You stay quiet, not knowing what to say.
"There's no way you can convince your dad? Like, no way he's budging?"
You shake your head, "My parents are both in agreement."
"And you didn't think to request the time off with your boss before today?"
You note the annoyance in his voice, crinkling your nose up at it. He watches as your eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't acknowledge it.
"It wouldn't have made a difference, Rafe."
"You don't know that for a fact."
You fight the urge to roll your eyes, replaying your conversation with Marco in your head to be sure. All of those people who had requested off, you're sure it wouldn't have mattered.
"I'm sorry," your voice is weak.
"I just don't understand," he says after a minute, "I mean, I thought we were good to go, and it's been less than a week and I feel like I have no idea what's going on with you, and Topper's comforting you because I'm not there."
"Okay, well, I barely hear from you, so it's hard to keep you updated when you're calling me from loud bars and not returning texts for hours," you inform him, watching his lips part before you continue, "And what does Top have to do with any of this?"
"Nothing, all right?" he groans, "And, I'm sorry about last night. You just texted me saying you missed me and I wanted to call you. Maybe I shouldn't have."
"What does that mean?" you ask, accusation heavy in your voice.
"Shit, no, I just mean, maybe I should've waited until I got back to call," he covers, and you watch as he visibly swallows.
"It would've been late."
He doesn't respond to this, just frowns. The call goes silent for a minute, both of you staring around your respective rooms instead of at each other. You want to ask if he's mad at you, if he's as frustrated with this situation as you are.
"Baby," he says, finally, earning your attention, "Is there anything else?"
"I yelled at your sister," you volunteer, watching his eyes go wide.
"You did what?" he questions, scooting the phone closer to his face.
"She came into the kitchen while I was doing the dishes and told me that John B broke up with her-"
"What?"
"-and then asked if we could start over, and I was so frustrated because my dad had just said no to me, and I hadn't heard from you, and I snapped at her and walked out."
He shuts his eyes as he processes your words, "She was trying to make amends with you, and you shut her down?"
Out of all the things you thought Rafe would say, that's not one of them. You open your mouth to speak, then close it when you realize you don't know what to say. You think for a moment, then start again.
"It's Sarah, Rafe-"
"So, what? She's not worth redemption? Is that what you would've thought about me back in February, if you had known?"
"Whoa, what?" you say, practically gasping at him, "Why would you go there?"
"Why would you? I know a lot about second chances, Y/N, and although my sister can be the biggest bitch on the planet, she deserves one just as much as the rest of us."
His eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched, but he's moving around too much in the camera for you to tell much more about his expression. You take a deep breath, trying not to screw this up any more than you already have.
"I didn't mean it like that, Rafe. Of course, I believe in second chances. I just didn't know if she meant it."
He pauses, considering your words before he speaks again, "I get that."
His voice is quiet and he doesn't say any more than that. You lay down again in your bed, your gut telling you that this phone call is going nowhere. When you don't speak after a moment, he starts again.
"I have an early meeting in the morning. I should get some rest."
"Rafe," you stop him, watching his eyes move back to the screen, back to you, "I don't want to leave it like this."
"Like what?" he's playing dumb and you know it.
"You're frustrated with me," you inform him, as if he's not already aware.
"I'll get over it."
You frown, "I'm sorry I can't come. Believe me, I want to see you more than anything in the world."
"It is what it is, Y/N."
No baby. No sweetheart. No smile. You swallow the lump in your throat once again, getting tired of doing so.
"Okay," you say weakly.
"I'll text you tomorrow," he says, shifting in his bed and reaching for his charger, no longer paying attention to you.
"Okay," you repeat, quieter this time.
"All right," he counters, glancing at you once his charger is in, "Goodnight."
Your tears start to well when he doesn't say he loves you, which he always does when you two are starting to hang up. You pause and take a deep breath, then try it for yourself.
"I love you," you practically whisper.
"I love you, too. Goodnight."
The phone disconnects before you can speak again, but you breathe in his last words before throwing your phone down on the bed. If someone would've told you a week ago that this would be how you feel now, you wouldn't have believed them. You fall asleep, cursing your boss and your father, missing Rafe more than anything in the world and wishing he was wrapped around you entirely.
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