Rafe Cameron - Stare into my eyes
Summary: Y/N and Rafe have a complicated relationship. One minute they're on the brink of kissing, the next they're fighting because he's wanting to get high again.
Warnings: cursing, mentions of drugs, fighting.
If it wasn't for the loud music at Barry's and the chatter of people under the influence of god knows what concoction of substances, perhaps she would've heard him arrive on his bike. But alas, she didn't. She was blisfully oblivious as he stumbled up the few steps leading to the trailer, his eyes searching the crowd for her.
"Country club! What you doin' here bro?" It was Barry's voice that made her blood run cold, the conversation she was previously engaging in long forgotten. He was here.
She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping over the wooden floor making an awfully high-pitched sound, piercing the ringing in her ears. She passed by him on her way to Barry's bathroom, not even having to spare him a glance to know he was trailing close behind as soon as he tracked her movement, only to leave a confused Barry behind. He never quite understood the relationship between the two. It's a good thing she didn't look up at him, because she would've no doubt seen the change in his eyes upon meeting hers; hard eyes void of emotion, fleeting around the room anxiously turning into a soft gaze that didn't focus on anything but her. If it wasn't him, now, it would've been almost endearing.
But it was.
He followed her into the bathroom, locking the door behind him as soon as they were both in the cramped space. It was quieter here, but instead of bringing some peace, it only made their thoughts louder. She wasn't looking at him yet, her back to him as he pondered over how to break the silence. How to address this wrack-up of a matter he'd gotten himself into.
"So. I'm a bit high." He cringed immediately after the words left his mouth, internally cursing at himself.
"Yeah, I figured that much, Cameron." She held up her hands in exasperation, but her frustation soon turned into worry as she finally took in the boy's appearance. His right eye sported a new bruise, green and purple and red mixing together on his sunkissed skin.
"You're hurt."
"Clearly. Why else would I get high?"
"Because you have an addiction?" Her eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was not afraid of him in the slightest. "C'mon, Y/N." His tone was pleading, no, begging. In any other instance, he would've loved her having an attitude, doing anything in his power to rile her up even more. But right now he just needed someone to take care of him.
Her stance softened considerably as she took in the rest of his appearance: the bags beneath his eyes, the locks of hair - not gelled back like usual - sticking to his forehead that was covered in a sheen of sweat, not unlike his polo.
"Okay." She whispered, ever so slowly nodding her head, before moving past him to unlock the door. He didn't smell like the cologne he normally wore, a mix of alcohol and sweat floating between the small space between them. "Let's get you something to change into, alright?" Though she didn't wait for his answer as she opened the door, moving straight to Barry's room.
"You gonna dress me in a wifebeater or some shit?" He inquired with a chuckle as he followed her, plopping himself down on the bed as he intently watched her rummage through Barry's wardrobe. Most of his high had worn off already, and he could begin to feel it.
"Are you kidding? He'll notice it's his and have your ass for it. I'm sure he has some decent shirts he never wears. It'll be less obvious." She reasoned as she opened multiple drawers to find what she was looking for. A victorious 'aha' left her as she finally found what she was after, turning around with the blue longsleeve held high in her hand, only for her proud expression to change into shock, her mouth hanging open.
He'd taken the liberty of taking his shirt off already, something she hand't noticed him doing. She should've said something- anything, so he wouldn't question her change in demeanor. Joked teasingly with him, or even just asked if he thought it would fit. But she couldn't utter a single word as she looked at him. His shoulders broad, arms more muscular than she imagined them to be under his usual attire. Not to mention his chest, or the muscles in his abdomen that rippled underneath his skin (God it looked so soft. She wondered what it would feel like under her grazing fingertips) as he moved to stand up from the bed. She felt her heart hammer against her chest, flushed cheeks as she tried to look anywhere but his shirtless form.
"Gonna give me that?" He was pointing to the shirt still firm in her hand, an amused look on his face. The smugness made her snap out of it - as if his ego needed any more boasting.
"Don't flatter yourself." She scoffed, though she made no attempt to throw him the shirt. It took three, maybe four quick strides for him to be right up in her personal space. She was trying to stand her ground, straighten her back and keep eye contact to seem less affected by their current predicament. She was sure he could hear the hammering of her heart anyway. "Just took me off guard, 's all." She managed to murmur, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from shyly smiling.
He wasn't one to play with her feelings - he knew the kind of effect he had on her. But he quite enjoyed dancing around the subject with her, flirting and teasing and tender touches shared after spending long days together. It was their thing. He had convinced himself it was all he needed from her. God forbid he was honest about how much she meant to him, how much he craved her presence.
"Hm. Did you rather have me change in the bathroom, doll?" He came incomprehensibly closer to her, a breath too deep would have their chests touch. His eyes were boring into hers, now at eye level with her as he bent down slightly.
"I-" She wanted to say something. Tell him a warning would've been sufficient, adding a wink just to tease him back. Maybe say she wanted to be the one to take his shirt off, if she so dared. But his blue eyes were so mesmerising - specs of light shimmering in the dark blue pools of his irises, his pupils focused on her and only her. She could look away to stop the tight feeling from spreading in her chest, sure, but then she'd have to look at his large shoulders covered in freckles and sweat, or his chest rising with every breath he took. Warm breaths that she could feel hit her lips ever so softly. Getting lost in his eyes really was the only option she had. Inevitably, so was losing her words.
And it made him smile. A real, genuine smile. If he wasn't so close perhaps she wouldn't have noticed the way his eyes twinkled, how creases at the corner of his eyes formed, how that dimple arose on his chin.
As if that wasn't enough to make her weak at the knees and her breath hitch in her throat, the bolt of electricity that she felt when his long fingers touched hers, tracing around them like it was some kind of game to him, would've done her in.
"That's what I thought." His voice was raspy and dangerously low as he whispered it - so close to her mouth she wished he would just close the goddamn gap already. But it's Rafe, so of course he didn't. He just tugged on Barry's shirt held tight between her fingers, grabbing it and putting it on a split second later.
"How do I look?" His questioned as he couldn't find a mirror in the room, hopefully glancing at her.
"Peachy." She nodded as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She was upset at the loss of proximity, so perhaps what was supposed to be a comment of teasing nature came out harsher than she meant. Something that didn't go lost on him. Maybe he did take it too far just now.
"Alright, well. I gotta find Barry." He discarded her previous comment, rubbing his nose. The high had officially worn off completely now, and he was dying for more. Though he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to forget his earlier fight, or forget her. How he felt about her, and how he wasn't ever gonna be enough for her. How he would never have the guts to do something about it.
"Rafe-" She started sternly, glaring at him. Though she quieted down as he held his hands up.
"No, not this again, okay? You don't have shit to say about this, you hear me?"
"What, that's it?" She let out a dry laugh as she stood in front of him, blocking the door. "You're just gonna get high again. Seriously?"
"Y/N, don't start with me now." His voice was threatening now, glaring on the edge of venomous.
"It always ends the same, Rafe, and you were high just minutes ago. Don't you think that was enough? Don't you ever get bored of this shit?" She was asking too many difficult questions for his liking. Her tone was exasparated, too. Tired of having to deal with him and his stupid issues. Of having to patch him up and take care of his pathetic self that just couldn't get fucking clean. He felt the urge to scream, but bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from acting on it.
"What, you're not even gonna say anything?"
"Stop." He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he spat at her.
She threw her hands up, before running them through her hair. How was she supposed to stay calm - or approach this situation when he wouldn't even talk to her?
"I just- you're hurting people with this. You're not you, Rafe. Not anymore. I mean look at you." She gestured towards him.
"You don't know who I am."
"But I do!" She all but screamed at him. He kept his composure and his cold glare, but she noticed the way his shoulders tensed upwards at her outburst. So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "I know you. You're sweet and gentle and caring and so incredibly smart."
"Y/N." He wasn't used to compliments, or feeling this many emotions, for that matter. He could feel the need for another line coursing through every inch of his body. He just needed a little bit. Just needed to be able to breathe again.
"No, I'm serious. You're a great brother to Wheezie, you're great to me."
"Don't." He twisted his head to the side, his eyes rolling back as he felt his whole body heating up again, Barry's shirt no doubt already showing sweat stains. But she was far too invested in telling him how amazing he was, eyes trained on the ground as her brows furrowed, words flowing from her mouth at such a rate that in any other situation would've made him wonder where she found the time to breathe. So she didn't listen nor notice how he was struggling.
"You're always trying to please your father."
"Y/N, do not-"
"No, Rafe. I know how much he means to you, but you're never gonna be able to please him if you keep using! He's just going to keep abusing you and you're gonna keep being disappointed and running to Barry to stop yourself from feeling it."
He was proper boiling right now. Sweat was trickling down his forehead, jaw shut tight as he balled his fist at his side. They always say anger looks red, but even with his eyes shut tight all he saw was white. Pure, white, blinding rage. Everywhere in his mind - dying to creep out all at once.
"And it's just this vicious cycle that's never gonna end. And I worry for the day that it becomes your death, Rafe!" She all but yelled his name, voice hoarse and filled with unplaceable emotions.
"Shut your fucking mouth!" He bellowed out, two quick steps bringing him right in front of her, his fist making contact with the door behind her before he even knew he moved his fist in the first place. She cowered down at the proximity of the sound. His body was flush against hers now, even closer than they were before. He was breathing hard, his arms on either side of her as he trapped her between him and the door. His skin touching hers felt hot and damp, but it still made her shiver. Not in a good way though, not like before.
The worst of it all wasn't even his anger, or the drugs, or the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to stop him.
It was his eyes.
The ones that she had so lovingly stared into mere minutes ago. The ones that held so much adoration and passion for her. The ones that twinkled under the light, sparkled with mischief as he playfully teased her. The ones that she could look into and feel safe - no matter what. The ones that she considered to belong to her home.
They were darker now. Harsh and fierce, flaring up with anger as he looked into her frightened eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed hard, a frown between them. The shadows they casted leaving sharp edges prominent on his face. The specs of light weren't not visible anymore, they were simply gone. She couldn't even distinguish the blue from his pupils. She'd never been the subject of his rage before, and she never understood how most people feared him. But now? As he looked down on her with no emotion but anger written on his face, he looked scary to her for the first time. And she wondered if his eyes would ever feel the same again as her own filled with tears.
"Don't talk about my father again." His voice was strained but louder than she expected. He leaned into her even more to give power to the threathening statement, before completely pushing off. Large hands wrapped around her arms, fingers digging into her skin bordering on putting enough pressure to leave a bruise. He forced her away from the door. Perhaps he expected more of a struggle from her, but she was so shocked by his behaviour that she could only take small and hasty steps away from the door, scared to anger him more. He janked the door open, the sound of the loud bass of the music hitting her ears. The sensory stimulation was too much for her to bear, and she looked up both in a prayer for him to leave and to keep the tears from falling.
"And don't talk to me. We're done." He added. She wanted to look into his eyes. As much as they scared her now, she needed to know if they held any more emotion than his completely void voice just did. But he'd already slammed the door shut.
She was left looking at the closed door as she finally allowed the tears to soak her cheeks.