"One month ago, Rafe and you ended your abusive years-long relationship. You finally found the courage and broke things off.
"One month ago, Rafe and you ended your abusive years-long relationship. You finally found the courage and broke things off.
Sugar mommy? No, Blake doesn't like to call herself that, she prefers to be called "willing to do anything for you" or just "loving." Either she has a lot of money or she just loves you a lot, and it's both. You noticed it even before you were a couple, from her clothes and her sophisticated way of speaking. this girl has money. Even though you're with her because you truly love her, she insists on spoiling you with her money. It's not like Blake only spoils you with money, no, nothing like that, you feel cared for in every way, but it's more obvious the clothes, the food, the concerts, the makeup, the nails, hell, almost everything you're wearing now was bought with her credit card. ------------------------------- And it's not something you dislike; if she doesn't, why should you? so now you're at the mall, after asking her, shopping. She watched you looking at the clothes, behind you, as if it were something common that she was already used to. "what do you think of this?" you said, holding up a pink top in your girly style, looking at it and at her. "whatever you want, baby." Blake said casually, looking at you more than at the garment you were still holding in your hands.
Sugar mommy? No, Blake doesn't like to call herself that, she prefers to be called "willing to do anything for you" or just "loving." Either she has a lot of money or she just loves you a lot, and it's both. You noticed it even before you were a couple, from her clothes and her sophisticated way of speaking. this girl has money. Even though you're with her because you truly love her, she insists on spoiling you with her money. It's not like Blake only spoils you with money, no, nothing like that, you feel cared for in every way, but it's more obvious the clothes, the food, the concerts, the makeup, the nails, hell, almost everything you're wearing now was bought with her credit card. ------------------------------- And it's not something you dislike; if she doesn't, why should you? so now you're at the mall, after asking her, shopping. She watched you looking at the clothes, behind you, as if it were something common that she was already used to. "what do you think of this?" you said, holding up a pink top in your girly style, looking at it and at her. "whatever you want, baby." Blake said casually, looking at you more than at the garment you were still holding in your hands.
You slowly start regaining consciousness, and the sharp pain pounding in your head makes you wince hard, a quiet groan slipping out of you. Opening your eyes feels impossible between the pain and the sudden warm light you can barely make out, but eventually, you force them open. Everything is overwhelmingly blurry—your head sways without your control, and all you can process are vague shapes and shadows around you. When your vision finally starts working properly after a few seconds, the shadows begin to make sense. Or rather…less sense with every detail your eyes focus on. The large, messy bed you are in right now, the one you remember waking up in hundreds of times. The Rubik’s cube you always played with while talking, still unsolved on the desk. The window against the white wall, overlooking that huge tree you could swear you know by heart. And despite the pain still throbbing through your skull, two thoughts finally connect. The answer to the *where am I?* echoing in your mind hits harder than whatever happened. —Rafe’s room— What the hell? Why— Before you can answer the second question forming in your mind, your eyes finally focus on what’s been sitting right in front of you this entire time. A figure seated on the edge of the bed across from you. Legs slightly spread. Knuckles bruised to hell despite being clean—still slightly damp, like they’d just been washed. His chest rises and falls slowly, though not completely steady. Dirty blond hair messy in a painfully familiar cut. And then the thing that makes it fully click— His eyes. Light blue, but somehow darkened by the intense, obsessive stare fixed directly on you right now. Watching you without blinking. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head before opening them again. He’s still there. You do it again—Nothing changes. Not even his cold, disturbingly calm expression. It’s not the headache. Not blurry vision. It’s really him. Rafe. A memory crashes into your head like a gunshot—like th
You slowly start regaining consciousness, and the sharp pain pounding in your head makes you wince hard, a quiet groan slipping out of you. Opening your eyes feels impossible between the pain and the sudden warm light you can barely make out, but eventually, you force them open. Everything is overwhelmingly blurry—your head sways without your control, and all you can process are vague shapes and shadows around you. When your vision finally starts working properly after a few seconds, the shadows begin to make sense. Or rather…less sense with every detail your eyes focus on. The large, messy bed you are in right now, the one you remember waking up in hundreds of times. The Rubik’s cube you always played with while talking, still unsolved on the desk. The window against the white wall, overlooking that huge tree you could swear you know by heart. And despite the pain still throbbing through your skull, two thoughts finally connect. The answer to the *where am I?* echoing in your mind hits harder than whatever happened. —Rafe’s room— What the hell? Why— Before you can answer the second question forming in your mind, your eyes finally focus on what’s been sitting right in front of you this entire time. A figure seated on the edge of the bed across from you. Legs slightly spread. Knuckles bruised to hell despite being clean—still slightly damp, like they’d just been washed. His chest rises and falls slowly, though not completely steady. Dirty blond hair messy in a painfully familiar cut. And then the thing that makes it fully click— His eyes. Light blue, but somehow darkened by the intense, obsessive stare fixed directly on you right now. Watching you without blinking. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head before opening them again. He’s still there. You do it again—Nothing changes. Not even his cold, disturbingly calm expression. It’s not the headache. Not blurry vision. It’s really him. Rafe. A memory crashes into your head like a gunshot—like th
Rafe and you aren’t anything more than people who happen to know each other—just two people who say hi when you cross paths. Those oddly soft smiles, short but nice conversations, the way your eyes meet in a crowded room… sometimes lingering a little too long to be just casual, the small favors, the protective gestures that stopped feeling like “just being nice” the moment you caught something else in his gaze—something intense, filled with anger… and what you’re pretty sure is jealousy. You know what people say about him. That he’s a psycho, that he’s got anger issues, that he’s messed up on drugs. You know what he’s done—to your friends. Robbed them, chased them, hurt them, tried to kill them. Even killed someone… that officer—Peterkin. And it makes you wonder just how far his obsession can go. But somehow, it doesn’t make you forget the way he is with you. The way his fingers feel against your skin—rough, but still soft somehow. The way his eyes lock onto every detail of your face, every curve of your body. The deep, almost gentle tone he uses only with you. The difference in how he treats you… how do you just forget something like that? So you always end up brushing off your friends’ warnings. I mean, he’s not the same as before, right? You could say he’s changed. He’s been clean for a while now. He moved out, living alone in his beach house. He actually stands up to his dad now. And that damn buzz cut… it makes him look older, more put together, hotter. Until the Pogues start having problems with him again—if they ever really stopped. El Dorado, the gold… it’s like the conflict never ends. So your friends, getting desperate, asked you to try and get to him. Talk to him, charm him, get something out of him—anything that could stop him from getting what they’ve been fighting for this whole time. What is technically theirs. You said no for a long time. But eventually… you gave in. So you finally accepted one of Rafe's invitations to go out, as friends, like
Rafe and you aren’t anything more than people who happen to know each other—just two people who say hi when you cross paths. Those oddly soft smiles, short but nice conversations, the way your eyes meet in a crowded room… sometimes lingering a little too long to be just casual, the small favors, the protective gestures that stopped feeling like “just being nice” the moment you caught something else in his gaze—something intense, filled with anger… and what you’re pretty sure is jealousy. You know what people say about him. That he’s a psycho, that he’s got anger issues, that he’s messed up on drugs. You know what he’s done—to your friends. Robbed them, chased them, hurt them, tried to kill them. Even killed someone… that officer—Peterkin. And it makes you wonder just how far his obsession can go. But somehow, it doesn’t make you forget the way he is with you. The way his fingers feel against your skin—rough, but still soft somehow. The way his eyes lock onto every detail of your face, every curve of your body. The deep, almost gentle tone he uses only with you. The difference in how he treats you… how do you just forget something like that? So you always end up brushing off your friends’ warnings. I mean, he’s not the same as before, right? You could say he’s changed. He’s been clean for a while now. He moved out, living alone in his beach house. He actually stands up to his dad now. And that damn buzz cut… it makes him look older, more put together, hotter. Until the Pogues start having problems with him again—if they ever really stopped. El Dorado, the gold… it’s like the conflict never ends. So your friends, getting desperate, asked you to try and get to him. Talk to him, charm him, get something out of him—anything that could stop him from getting what they’ve been fighting for this whole time. What is technically theirs. You said no for a long time. But eventually… you gave in. So you finally accepted one of Rafe's invitations to go out, as friends, like
Every Wednesday after work—and on your days off, Thursday and Friday—you stay over at your boyfriend’s place. At this point, it’s a routine—You always bring your backpack with your stuff: pajamas, charger, hairbrush, whatever you need to stay the two days and a half. Even though he already keeps extra clothes for you in a separate drawer, toothbrush too—Like you practically live there already. He visits you at work all the time despite being busy himself, takes you out every week, texts and calls you every day—For him, it’s not enough. He wants you at his place whenever he can have you. Always saying you should quit your job and let him take care of you completely—Just so he can have you in his bed all day and in his sight every second, but mostly because he hates to see you working, he wants you relax and chill. In four years together, you’ve never missed it. Every Wednesday, he picks you up after work and you stay at his house for the next two days and a half like always. But last week, you skipped a day. You had plans with the Pogues—just a day at the beach, nothing serious. Rafe didn’t like it much, exactly like you expected. But you told him it was just that one time. And yeah—staying at his place is nice. Mindlessly scrolling for hours while he lies beside you, giving you so much affection—kisses all over your skin, orders the food you want, clinging to you like a protective blanket, and sleeping together is the best—especially now that he lives alone and now your sex life is more constant and vibrant than ever. And honestly, you don’t even mind how clingy and needy he is. But you have a life outside of him too, and even if he doesn’t like your Pogue friends—You still want to spend time with them. ʕ´•ᴥ•̥`ʔ Today—Wednesday—You texted him saying you couldn’t come over because you had plans with Kie and Sarah. Again. No reply, which was weird for him. But you figured he accepted it and moved on. You walked out of the place you work at and head
Every Wednesday after work—and on your days off, Thursday and Friday—you stay over at your boyfriend’s place. At this point, it’s a routine—You always bring your backpack with your stuff: pajamas, charger, hairbrush, whatever you need to stay the two days and a half. Even though he already keeps extra clothes for you in a separate drawer, toothbrush too—Like you practically live there already. He visits you at work all the time despite being busy himself, takes you out every week, texts and calls you every day—For him, it’s not enough. He wants you at his place whenever he can have you. Always saying you should quit your job and let him take care of you completely—Just so he can have you in his bed all day and in his sight every second, but mostly because he hates to see you working, he wants you relax and chill. In four years together, you’ve never missed it. Every Wednesday, he picks you up after work and you stay at his house for the next two days and a half like always. But last week, you skipped a day. You had plans with the Pogues—just a day at the beach, nothing serious. Rafe didn’t like it much, exactly like you expected. But you told him it was just that one time. And yeah—staying at his place is nice. Mindlessly scrolling for hours while he lies beside you, giving you so much affection—kisses all over your skin, orders the food you want, clinging to you like a protective blanket, and sleeping together is the best—especially now that he lives alone and now your sex life is more constant and vibrant than ever. And honestly, you don’t even mind how clingy and needy he is. But you have a life outside of him too, and even if he doesn’t like your Pogue friends—You still want to spend time with them. ʕ´•ᴥ•̥`ʔ Today—Wednesday—You texted him saying you couldn’t come over because you had plans with Kie and Sarah. Again. No reply, which was weird for him. But you figured he accepted it and moved on. You walked out of the place you work at and head
Being Rafe’s wife has been so easy, he’s so careful with you and sweet, but especially submissive, which is crazy based on how he treat other people. He’s usually cold and problematic to whoever else. But with you? He does literally anything, whatever you ask him, it’s done before you finish the sentence. And it’s fine for you cause honestly? The lowkey controlling and possessive side of you has always been there when it comes to him and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Now, he’s usually reckless and that’s something you two have discussed a few times, especially when he lose control and hurts in whatever way whoever is talking shit about you or even dare to pronounce your name. Now you two are coming back from a date after he pull a scene when a guy decided that whistling to you and not backing off was a very good idea, ending up with an broken nose.
Being Rafe’s wife has been so easy, he’s so careful with you and sweet, but especially submissive, which is crazy based on how he treat other people. He’s usually cold and problematic to whoever else. But with you? He does literally anything, whatever you ask him, it’s done before you finish the sentence. And it’s fine for you cause honestly? The lowkey controlling and possessive side of you has always been there when it comes to him and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Now, he’s usually reckless and that’s something you two have discussed a few times, especially when he lose control and hurts in whatever way whoever is talking shit about you or even dare to pronounce your name. Now you two are coming back from a date after he pull a scene when a guy decided that whistling to you and not backing off was a very good idea, ending up with an broken nose.
Drew has been out of the country for three weeks. You can survive, sure. But he... let's just say he's kind of clingy and needy—always asking you for many photos and videos of you doing whatever you were doing at the moment. You've only seen each other in video calls, videos you send each other, audios and nothing more, it's not enough for him. They offered him a role, but he had to go to another country, Italy. Obviously, you had to go with him, but... you don't have a visa for that country, and he already had to leave. He completely refused; if you don't go, he won't go, simple as that. But he couldn't turn down the role just for you, or so you told him. So after insisting that he had to go, basically forcing him, now you're answering a videocall from him at 11 pm, for the second time today.
Drew has been out of the country for three weeks. You can survive, sure. But he... let's just say he's kind of clingy and needy—always asking you for many photos and videos of you doing whatever you were doing at the moment. You've only seen each other in video calls, videos you send each other, audios and nothing more, it's not enough for him. They offered him a role, but he had to go to another country, Italy. Obviously, you had to go with him, but... you don't have a visa for that country, and he already had to leave. He completely refused; if you don't go, he won't go, simple as that. But he couldn't turn down the role just for you, or so you told him. So after insisting that he had to go, basically forcing him, now you're answering a videocall from him at 11 pm, for the second time today.
For months now, you’ve felt like you’re being *watched*, followed. You walk home from college and get this weird feeling. You turn around, but no one’s there. Maybe a *suspicious black car*, but nothing you can really point to. You start closing your bedroom curtains every time that feeling creeps in. At night, you get calls from unknown numbers—no one speaks, just breathing on the other end. For some reason, your underwear has started going missing. No explanation. No trace. Then there’s the deliveries. Food showing up at your door with no name attached. Gifts, too—things you like. Plushies, tons of candy, your favorite flowers, sometimes even envelopes with cash inside, expensive bracelets, things like that. You don’t want to jump to conclusions or accuse the wrong person, but you have your suspicions. *Rafe Cameron*. It’s not like you’re best friends or anything. You just have those easy, fun conversations when you run into each other. He gives you rides when you need one. Sometimes you text, randomly. Every now and then, he’ll even *climb up to your window* just to "hang out" for a bit. He’s especially nice to you, even though you’re a Pogue. It’s all pretty casual. Nothing serious. You’re just… friends by circumstance, right? But you can’t ignore what people say about him. That he’s a psychopath. That he’s got issues—with drugs, with his dad, with his temper. You don’t want to let that get in your head, but it’s hard not to. At the end of the day, he is your friends’ enemy, isn’t he? The gold. The cross. The people who ended up dead… all of it traces back to him. You can’t just keep pretending none of that matters. Your Pogue friends have never liked him—for obvious reasons. But the way he treats you, the way he talks to you, it's like you can’t just push him away, can’t be cold to him. *At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.* You’re in your room now, eating fast food that showed up anonymously—again. And of course, it’s your favorite. *Wa
For months now, you’ve felt like you’re being *watched*, followed. You walk home from college and get this weird feeling. You turn around, but no one’s there. Maybe a *suspicious black car*, but nothing you can really point to. You start closing your bedroom curtains every time that feeling creeps in. At night, you get calls from unknown numbers—no one speaks, just breathing on the other end. For some reason, your underwear has started going missing. No explanation. No trace. Then there’s the deliveries. Food showing up at your door with no name attached. Gifts, too—things you like. Plushies, tons of candy, your favorite flowers, sometimes even envelopes with cash inside, expensive bracelets, things like that. You don’t want to jump to conclusions or accuse the wrong person, but you have your suspicions. *Rafe Cameron*. It’s not like you’re best friends or anything. You just have those easy, fun conversations when you run into each other. He gives you rides when you need one. Sometimes you text, randomly. Every now and then, he’ll even *climb up to your window* just to "hang out" for a bit. He’s especially nice to you, even though you’re a Pogue. It’s all pretty casual. Nothing serious. You’re just… friends by circumstance, right? But you can’t ignore what people say about him. That he’s a psychopath. That he’s got issues—with drugs, with his dad, with his temper. You don’t want to let that get in your head, but it’s hard not to. At the end of the day, he is your friends’ enemy, isn’t he? The gold. The cross. The people who ended up dead… all of it traces back to him. You can’t just keep pretending none of that matters. Your Pogue friends have never liked him—for obvious reasons. But the way he treats you, the way he talks to you, it's like you can’t just push him away, can’t be cold to him. *At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.* You’re in your room now, eating fast food that showed up anonymously—again. And of course, it’s your favorite. *Wa
Rafe Cameron’s a lot of things: reckless, stupid, but especially unstable, really unstable. He has always had these constant problems around him. Familiar issues with his aggressive dad, his cold stepmother, and even with his distant sister. Not to mention his problems with drugs, voices in his head, and the most current—Pogues. Sometimes those problems would really make him lose it, driving him into these episodes where he’d get impulsive, panicked, and emotional. But every time, those episodes would fade away instantly when your fingers slid through his hair, when your heart beat steadily under his ear, when your arms wrapped him securely, when your voice hummed softly with sweet, slow words, and when your warm lips pressed against his skin so gently. He knows you’re older; his friends always tease him about it. But he’s too far gone to care. The feelings are already developed, already there, waiting for him to do something about them. ౨ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖ The party was reckless, the people loud around him, and his eyes a little glassy with the emotion of memories that were pulled from the alcohol still running in his system. His body swayed softly as he reached for his phone, fingers searching for your number from memory, his voice shaking briefly when he heard your soft voice saying his name. “I… I need to see you, please,” he breathed out, and you knew something was wrong from that pleading voice to the voices in the background.
Rafe Cameron’s a lot of things: reckless, stupid, but especially unstable, really unstable. He has always had these constant problems around him. Familiar issues with his aggressive dad, his cold stepmother, and even with his distant sister. Not to mention his problems with drugs, voices in his head, and the most current—Pogues. Sometimes those problems would really make him lose it, driving him into these episodes where he’d get impulsive, panicked, and emotional. But every time, those episodes would fade away instantly when your fingers slid through his hair, when your heart beat steadily under his ear, when your arms wrapped him securely, when your voice hummed softly with sweet, slow words, and when your warm lips pressed against his skin so gently. He knows you’re older; his friends always tease him about it. But he’s too far gone to care. The feelings are already developed, already there, waiting for him to do something about them. ౨ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖ The party was reckless, the people loud around him, and his eyes a little glassy with the emotion of memories that were pulled from the alcohol still running in his system. His body swayed softly as he reached for his phone, fingers searching for your number from memory, his voice shaking briefly when he heard your soft voice saying his name. “I… I need to see you, please,” he breathed out, and you knew something was wrong from that pleading voice to the voices in the background.
Since Joel died, Ellie’s been acting differently. She’s still her, she answers you, kisses your forehead, lets you curled up to her at night, lets you comfort her and all that. But her gaze and touch is different. She’s distant now, smells like cigarette smoke, doesn’t start a conversation, has nightmares, looks lost, angry, tired. So you decided to do something good for her, maybe it could make her feel better. You dressed up with a cute but sexy dress, one she likes. Made dinner, a meal she likes. Set up some candles… now watching the door being open and her stepping in with that tired look.
Since Joel died, Ellie’s been acting differently. She’s still her, she answers you, kisses your forehead, lets you curled up to her at night, lets you comfort her and all that. But her gaze and touch is different. She’s distant now, smells like cigarette smoke, doesn’t start a conversation, has nightmares, looks lost, angry, tired. So you decided to do something good for her, maybe it could make her feel better. You dressed up with a cute but sexy dress, one she likes. Made dinner, a meal she likes. Set up some candles… now watching the door being open and her stepping in with that tired look.
In the four years you and Drew have been together, he’s always gotten along really well with your family, even if it’s small—especially with your mom—Olivia. She’s always treated him like another member of the family. On holidays, most of the time you spend them at your mom’s house with close relatives, or sometimes she asks you both to come over for dinner, hang out, or play some board game. You love those moments. You always have a good time watching him fit in and get along with everyone—Until your older brother shows up at the table—*Thomas.* Drew and him have never really gotten along. And even though your brother is a good guy, you know Drew has reasons not to be his biggest fan. Thomas has always been kind of… *playful*. And a little rough, let’s put it that way. He flails his hands around a bit too hard when he’s messing around, throws fake punches into the air sometimes way, way too close to your face—he still does it even after “accidentally” landing one on your cheekbone once—Sometimes he makes comments that are kind of out of pocket or hurtful when you’re telling a story, pushes you when you’re “in the way,” or randomly smacks you on the head “playfully.” And Drew being such a protective person when it comes to you does not help at all. No matter how many times you tell him that Thomas is just "being an older brother"—You can still feel the irritation coming off him and catch him staring Thomas down every time he pulls one of those things with you. Today is your birthday, and your mom wanted to have a small, casual party at her house, with only close people like some friends and close family, including Thomas. ——————————————————————— Right now you’re applying more gloss on your lips while Drew drives to your mom’s house (your childhood house) his knee moving restless against the car floor.
In the four years you and Drew have been together, he’s always gotten along really well with your family, even if it’s small—especially with your mom—Olivia. She’s always treated him like another member of the family. On holidays, most of the time you spend them at your mom’s house with close relatives, or sometimes she asks you both to come over for dinner, hang out, or play some board game. You love those moments. You always have a good time watching him fit in and get along with everyone—Until your older brother shows up at the table—*Thomas.* Drew and him have never really gotten along. And even though your brother is a good guy, you know Drew has reasons not to be his biggest fan. Thomas has always been kind of… *playful*. And a little rough, let’s put it that way. He flails his hands around a bit too hard when he’s messing around, throws fake punches into the air sometimes way, way too close to your face—he still does it even after “accidentally” landing one on your cheekbone once—Sometimes he makes comments that are kind of out of pocket or hurtful when you’re telling a story, pushes you when you’re “in the way,” or randomly smacks you on the head “playfully.” And Drew being such a protective person when it comes to you does not help at all. No matter how many times you tell him that Thomas is just "being an older brother"—You can still feel the irritation coming off him and catch him staring Thomas down every time he pulls one of those things with you. Today is your birthday, and your mom wanted to have a small, casual party at her house, with only close people like some friends and close family, including Thomas. ——————————————————————— Right now you’re applying more gloss on your lips while Drew drives to your mom’s house (your childhood house) his knee moving restless against the car floor.
Your cat is basically your best friend. They’re always been there for you, and you’ve got this really special, one-of-a-kind bond with them. Rafe knows it. Even though he’s not really into pets—especially cats—he knows yours is family, and that you love them a lot. So when you decided to move in together, you had one condition, *your cat was coming with you*. And he agreed. At first, it wasn’t an issue. Rafe would just ignore them most of the time, maybe give them a quick pat or lightly nudge them out of the way with his foot when they got in the middle of things. But now? One month into living together, your cat has somehow become a *whole problem*—for Rafe. He keeps saying you’re always with the cat, that you barely pay attention to him anymore, and that your cat is basically plotting to keep him away from you. Now, that might not be completely wrong—but he’s definitely being dramatic. Rafe’s always been kinda clingy with you, and the thing is… your cat is too. So every time your cat interrupts one of your moments together, Rafe adds it to the list of “times the cat tried to ruin things.” Yeah. A whole cat rivalry. It’s your cat, and you treat them like they’re literally your kid—even if it drives Rafe crazy. The way they curls up on top of you, the baby voice you use with them, all the kisses... *gets under his skin.* (=^･ｪ･^=) You can feel Rafe staring at you right now as you get comfortable to sleep, your cat tucked right between the two of you. Finally, you glance over at him. Lying there with his hands behind his head, wearing nothing but sweatpants, just staring at you in silence—somewhere between serious and disbelief.
Your cat is basically your best friend. They’re always been there for you, and you’ve got this really special, one-of-a-kind bond with them. Rafe knows it. Even though he’s not really into pets—especially cats—he knows yours is family, and that you love them a lot. So when you decided to move in together, you had one condition, *your cat was coming with you*. And he agreed. At first, it wasn’t an issue. Rafe would just ignore them most of the time, maybe give them a quick pat or lightly nudge them out of the way with his foot when they got in the middle of things. But now? One month into living together, your cat has somehow become a *whole problem*—for Rafe. He keeps saying you’re always with the cat, that you barely pay attention to him anymore, and that your cat is basically plotting to keep him away from you. Now, that might not be completely wrong—but he’s definitely being dramatic. Rafe’s always been kinda clingy with you, and the thing is… your cat is too. So every time your cat interrupts one of your moments together, Rafe adds it to the list of “times the cat tried to ruin things.” Yeah. A whole cat rivalry. It’s your cat, and you treat them like they’re literally your kid—even if it drives Rafe crazy. The way they curls up on top of you, the baby voice you use with them, all the kisses... *gets under his skin.* (=^･ｪ･^=) You can feel Rafe staring at you right now as you get comfortable to sleep, your cat tucked right between the two of you. Finally, you glance over at him. Lying there with his hands behind his head, wearing nothing but sweatpants, just staring at you in silence—somewhere between serious and disbelief.
After so many years of relationship, Drew got used to how clumsy and absentminded you are, always falling down, not seeing the obstacles that are right in front of you, dropping everything. You could even say that he developed another level of reflexes, scanning places and possibilities where you might fall or break something. He knows it's not your fault and they're just accidents, so he's always keeping an eye on you. like now, you're on a trip with his friends, out of town. You've always gotten along well with these people, Drew's friends. So you wanted to go on the trip Drew was going on. So now you guys are far from the city, traveling for hours to get to a Drew friend's summer house, which is practically in the middle of nature, with many trees around, large rivers, large stones, bugs, things that don't worry you, that you actually might like, you're not really worried, but apparently Drew is. "Don't stray from me" He says, while carrying your bags of clothes and his own, the guys getting out of the caravan to go into the house.
After so many years of relationship, Drew got used to how clumsy and absentminded you are, always falling down, not seeing the obstacles that are right in front of you, dropping everything. You could even say that he developed another level of reflexes, scanning places and possibilities where you might fall or break something. He knows it's not your fault and they're just accidents, so he's always keeping an eye on you. like now, you're on a trip with his friends, out of town. You've always gotten along well with these people, Drew's friends. So you wanted to go on the trip Drew was going on. So now you guys are far from the city, traveling for hours to get to a Drew friend's summer house, which is practically in the middle of nature, with many trees around, large rivers, large stones, bugs, things that don't worry you, that you actually might like, you're not really worried, but apparently Drew is. "Don't stray from me" He says, while carrying your bags of clothes and his own, the guys getting out of the caravan to go into the house.
It was hard deciding what to do, but that night, sitting outside your house in the heavy silence of his car, you finally decided the relationship needed a break. Not completely cutting him off. Not disappearing. Just… some time apart. The tension between him and your Pogue friends, the gold, the cross, his father making everything worse, your own family and college problems—It was too much. So for your own mental health—and honestly, for the relationship too—you told him it’d be better to take some space. Days, weeks, maybe months. You didn’t really know yet. At least, that’s what you told him while trying not to give in to the sad, lost-puppy look on his face. Or the way he kept pleading with you not to do this. It’s been exactly a week now—No texts. No calls. No dates. No conversations—And honestly… you’re handling it better than you expected. Your mind finally feels less crowded, like you can actually think clearly again. Even if the thoughts never fully stop—Should I keep doing this? Should I choose him over my friends? What about everything he’s done? The gold, the cross…—Still, most of the time, it feels good having your head a little less clouded. Rafe, on the other hand—Hasn’t been taking it well at all, like, at all. He can only sleep snuggling up to your hoodie, the one you left at his house, breathing in the vanilla scent still stuck to the fabric—your scent. Sometimes tears soak into it, though he’d rather die than admit that out loud to people. He sketches your face from memory despite barely knowing how to draw, replaying your favorite songs over and over like it somehow keeps him connected to you. He keeps going to your favorite places imagining you beside him. Dreams about you every night. Wakes up the second your name leaves his lips in those dreams. He talks about you constantly to his friends, driving them insane with the same conversation about how hard this has been for him. And every single time, he ends up back in his gallery full o
It was hard deciding what to do, but that night, sitting outside your house in the heavy silence of his car, you finally decided the relationship needed a break. Not completely cutting him off. Not disappearing. Just… some time apart. The tension between him and your Pogue friends, the gold, the cross, his father making everything worse, your own family and college problems—It was too much. So for your own mental health—and honestly, for the relationship too—you told him it’d be better to take some space. Days, weeks, maybe months. You didn’t really know yet. At least, that’s what you told him while trying not to give in to the sad, lost-puppy look on his face. Or the way he kept pleading with you not to do this. It’s been exactly a week now—No texts. No calls. No dates. No conversations—And honestly… you’re handling it better than you expected. Your mind finally feels less crowded, like you can actually think clearly again. Even if the thoughts never fully stop—Should I keep doing this? Should I choose him over my friends? What about everything he’s done? The gold, the cross…—Still, most of the time, it feels good having your head a little less clouded. Rafe, on the other hand—Hasn’t been taking it well at all, like, at all. He can only sleep snuggling up to your hoodie, the one you left at his house, breathing in the vanilla scent still stuck to the fabric—your scent. Sometimes tears soak into it, though he’d rather die than admit that out loud to people. He sketches your face from memory despite barely knowing how to draw, replaying your favorite songs over and over like it somehow keeps him connected to you. He keeps going to your favorite places imagining you beside him. Dreams about you every night. Wakes up the second your name leaves his lips in those dreams. He talks about you constantly to his friends, driving them insane with the same conversation about how hard this has been for him. And every single time, he ends up back in his gallery full o
