#this part got soooo long because i just couldnt find a place to pause lols
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home before dark (part three)
pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader
rating mature 18+
summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend wonât leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybodyâs afraid of him. except for you.
content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent
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· · ââ àŁȘ âč àŁȘ ââ · ·
Rafe is sitting in a chair in the front room of your home, his chin resting on his hand, hardly paying any attention to the sitcom playing on the tv screen.
Heâs pissed off. Why did it have to storm tonight of all nights, when he doesnât have anything to numb the pain, nothing to drown out the sound of the rain drumming on the windows?
In his haste, he didnât pack any coke before coming here. He didnât think heâd need it this bad.
And that photo he saw upstairs. Itâs making everything so much fucking worse.
This is how the world repays him for helping someone. Figures. Heâs used to having shit luck. Trying to make his own father love him has been a losing game, and heâs been at that for years, so why would anything else go his way?
âHey.â Rafe straightens when he hears you. You look into the room. âDid the thunder wake you up, too?â
He hasnât slept at all. But he nods.
Thereâs a blankness in his stare, the tv casting dull colors over his face. He didnât bother to turn the light on.
You cross the room, hazy from your interrupted sleep, and settle on the couch. Youâre far away from him, acting like youâve never touched, even though you were just pressed against each other on his motorcycle.
You wonder if it felt nice to him, too. Or if you were just extra weight on his bike, an irritating responsibility he was cornered into taking on.
âDo you have any booze around here?â Rafe mutters. You catch the desolation in his tone.
âWhatâs wrong?â you ask.
You instantly feel ridiculous for expecting you wonât be met with the cold shoulder. You doubt heâll answer. But then, because the world must be off its axis, he does.
âFucking hate this weather,â he says.
His words make a chill sink into your bones. You remember your father telling you the news years ago after he got the phone call. A torrential downpour. The freeway. Zero visibility.
Anne lost control of her car.
By the look on your dadâs face, you knew what that meant. Rafeâs mother didnât survive the wreck.
He doesnât have to say it. You know thatâs why he hates storms.
âI can distract you,â you offer, âif you want?â
It was something you did as kids. Rafe would be angry or sad or hurt or anything and youâd talk his ear off about whatever you could think of until the dark cloud hanging over him drifted away.
His feelings always felt too big for him. You were the best at making them small enough to manage.
Rafe is used to wanting to be left alone. But not right now. Not if he can be with you. Admitting it feels impossible. The wall he spent years building around himself is solid from both sides.
âItâs your house,â he finally says. âDo what you want.â
You take it an invitation to stay. You turn your attention to the tv, as if holding eye contact with him will make him take it back.
It gives him a chance to look at you. How the fuck have you not lost patience with him yet? Why do you still care?
âI keep wanting to ask why youâre helping me,â you say, just loud enough to be heard over the tv.
Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead.
âThis is you distracting me,â he scoffs. âArenât you supposed to do the talking?â
The fact that heâs expecting you to replicate the days of your youth gives you a sliver of hope that maybe he misses them, too.
âThere has to be a reason youâre doing it,â you murmur.
âCanât you just be happy that I am?â he responds. A white flash of lighting pools into the room for a split second.
âNo,â you say. Finally, he gives in.
âBecause IâŠâ he begins.
The noise from the show is adding to the frustrating confusion engulfing him. He angrily picks up the remote and turns the tv off, plunging both of you in darkness.
You turn your head towards him again, only able to make out the hard outline of his jaw.
âI always had to look out for you,â he says. âI guess I still do.â
You look down at your lap, taken aback that Rafe holds any sense of loyalty for you.
You almost want to remind him of what he said earlier, that youâre not kids anymore, but you donât want to challenge him.
âAnd I donât know why,â he adds, voice thin, âbut youâre not a dick to me like everyone else is, so I kind of owe you.â
All you can hear is your own breathing and the ticking of the clock in the foyer and the tap of faltering raindrops. The storm is passing.
âItâs because you didnât do anything wrong,â you say into the silence. âItâs not like you did something to make me hate you. You shut me out, but I get why.â
Your words reverberate through him. He wonders if you think that he hates you.
Still, you could have gone to any other guy and asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend.
âWhyâd you come to me?â he asks.
âBecause heâs scared of you.â You donât have to nor do you want to say your exâs name.
âAnd youâre not?â
âNo.â You tilt your head. âWe used to be best friends.â
You say it like he wouldnât remember. He couldnât erase it from his brain if he tried. And he has.
The heaviness of all this is suffocating to him. The past is done. Thereâs no point in digging up things thatâll just hurt him all over again.
He stands up, chasing out the familiarity that was slowly growing between you. But before he leaves the room, he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers.
âYou didnât do anything wrong, either, alright?â Rafe says into the dark, irritated, answering the question you asked him on the shoreline hours ago. âNot on purpose.â
As his shadow retreats, the words he left you with ring in your head. He doesnât blame you. But you did do something wrong.
Rafe had his head buried into his pillow, throat burning from crying through his grief, every night for months.
As he lies in an unfamiliar bed all for a girl whose very existence makes him feel a multitude of good and bad all at once, heâs thrown back into those days, as if heâs a boy again.
His mother used to tell him it was a strength to be so sensitive, but her voice faded and his fatherâs voice got so much louder. What he tells him every time Rafe canât swallow down the tears echoes in his mind. Toughen up. Youâre fine.
But heâs not fine. He canât stop crying and he knows he has to tell you he canât do this anymore. Being with you brings back too much.
But the next morning, when Rafe finds you sitting at the kitchen island, wearing your pajamas and a smile, the prospect of ending this is tossed away.
You have access to him that nobody else does. You and that damn smile are a weakness that he didnât know he had. And while he can act happy and careless around everyone else, he canât put on an act for you. Ever.
âHowâd you sleep?â you ask. Your hands are cupping a mug, your phone sitting beside it.
âLike shit,â Rafe replies, pacing to the fridge. âTook hours to fall asleep.â
You feel guilty that he didnât have a good rest, considering heâs only here because you were too frightened to be alone.
âYou?â he says after a beat. The ice must be melting if heâs actually asking about you for once.
âMy sleep was good,â you reply. âIt helped having you here.â
Rafeâs cheeks get warm. Someone actually wanting him around is a foreign feeling.
By the time your conversation was over last night, the rain and thunder had dwindled. It couldnât have been the storm keeping him awake. Curiosity pushes you to figure it out.
âWas the bed uncomfortable?â you ask.
âNo,â he answers. He finds a glass and fills it with water. His throat still hurts from crying last night.
You watch him, his presence commanding as he leans back against the counter opposite you. The dark, shallow bags beneath his eyes are illuminated in the bright lights above you. He looks exhausted.
âWas the room too warm? Or too cold?â you say.
âCan you relax?â Rafe huffs, his tone almost playful.
He isnât about to admit that he canât remember the last time he fell asleep sober. And heâs definitely not going to tell you that the last thing he thought about before finally passing out was that his cheeks burned from how hard he was wiping his tears away.
âThe least I can do is make sure youâre comfortable since I made you stay the night,â you say.
His brows furrow as he takes a long gulp, tipping his head back.
âNobody can make me do anything,â he replies once he downs the water. You know itâs the truth. It makes the fact that heâs doing this for you all the more meaningful.
Before you can respond, your phone buzzes loudly on the countertop. Rafe sees your face fall when your eyes drop to the screen. You read the notification for a moment, then sigh and shake your head.
âHe emailed me,â you say incredulously. âI blocked him on everything and he emailed me.â
Rafe leans over to see if youâll let him look for himself. You slide your phone towards him and he picks it up to read Tyâs message.
What you have with him isnât real. We both know it. Let me prove that I can treat you how you deserve. Please. Iâm sorry for everything. I love you.
A part of Rafe is concerned youâll fall for it.
âWhatâre you gonna do?â he asks.
âBlock him there, too,â you mutter. âHe does this. Heâs mean, then he pretends like he changed, then heâs mean again⊠Itâs the same bullshit over and over.â
Rafe blocks him for you and places your phone on the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek as the dread you always feel when Ty contacts you floods your every sense.
The despair on your face makes Rafeâs stomach sink. The next time he sees Ty, heâs beating the shit out of him.
âHeâll stop, okay? Iâll make him,â he says.
Youâre still skeptical. Rafe definitely scares him, but Ty called him a bullshit rebound last night. He wrote that what you have with Rafe isnât real. Youâre not fooling him. And youâre afraid he wonât leave you alone until he believes youâre actually in a new relationship now.
âYeah.â You exhale slowly. âDoesnât sound like heâs falling for this, though.â You motion between you and him.
Rafe has to take a moment to catch your meaning. Falling for this. Your pretend relationship. Right.
âI didnât tell anyone itâs fake,â you say, afraid it somehow got out. âDid you?â
Rafe shakes his head no and puts his empty glass in the sink. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you again.
âDo you want me to keep crashing here until your mom and dad get back?â he asks.
You hate that your mind goes there, but you wonder when the last time he said mom out loud was. You shake away the thought.
âNot if you canât get any actual sleep,â you respond.
Rafe typically gets irritated when someone canât make up their mind. He wants everything done quickly, so he doesnât have to stop and think.
But this is you and even though youâre scared of sleeping on your own, youâre considering how staying here affects Rafe and it gives him a heavy feeling of shame. He spent years avoiding the only person who never abandoned him. The only person who still gives a shit.
âIâll just leave my stuff here,â he says, making the decision for you.
âThank you.â You mean it. The thought of someone being here with you is comforting.
As usual, Rafe ends the conversation quickly and abruptly, leaving the room. You soon hear the engine of his motorcycle rattling loudly from outside, the roar fading as he drives away.
You hoped that heâd at least want to hang out with you now. You donât understand why you keep expecting more from him. It just hurts you every time.
You donât hear from Ty for the rest of the day. You manage to run some errands without worrying youâll see him because even when Rafe isnât with you, you donât feel as scared knowing heâs in your corner.
The days of the week mean practically nothing on the north side of the island over the summer. Thereâs a party almost every night, this time at a house just down the street from you.
You invite your friends to your place, drinking as you get ready, deciding to walk over to the party. You turn up already tipsy, finding yourself looking for Rafe even though you know you should only really be doing that if Ty is bothering you.
When you walk into the loud, crowded house, seeing you reminds Rafe of why he isnât smoking or drinking or snorting anything tonight.
Heâs had countless fights while wasted, but he wants to have a clear mind when he sees Ty. He needs to make the fucker pay and not give him a chance to get even one punch in.
You meet Rafeâs blue eyes every so often throughout the night, glad youâre finally able to have fun again because you know heâs keeping you safe.
The second Ty walks in, even though he hasnât come close to approaching you, you make your way to Rafe.
You stand close to him, placing your hand in his, acting like a girlfriend to someone who is only doing this because he feels an overdue sense of loyalty to you.
Rafe stills for a moment before he laces his fingers with yours. His skin is hot, making your heart flutter in a way you know it shouldnât.
âHey,â you say over the music. His ring presses against your thumb.
âHey,â he says tensely. Heâs not used to affection, especially in front of people.
But this is what he signed up for. He needs to act like a boyfriend and heâs not going to fuck this up. Itâs the first real responsibility heâs had that he actually gives a shit about.
His eyes land on Ty and his plan to confront him takes a backseat when he realizes he doesnât want to let go of you. Right now, heâd rather have his hand in yours instead of using it to throw a punch. Itâs like every touch you give him leaves a heavier impact than the last.
You immediately notice how tense Rafe is.
âCan you relax?â you joke, imitating the way he said it this morning. Your heart warms when his dimples appear, framing a smile he canât stifle.
âI donât sound like that,â he says.
âYou sound exactly like that,â you reply with a laugh, picturing how tired he looked in your kitchen. âPlease tell me you got some sleep today.â
Again, the concern you seem to have never lost for him appears.
âI did,â he says. He crashed in his bed the second he got home.
âHow come it took you so long to fall asleep last night?â
Rafeâs knee-jerk reaction is to avoid the question. Especially if itâs you asking. But he canât forget how shitty it felt when you brushed him off last night at the beach, so he pushes himself to answer.
âJust, uhâŠâ He looks away. âCouldnât turn off my brain.â
You gaze up at him. It almost aches, how badly youâd love to know what goes through his mind.
âWhen did this start?â one of his friends amusedly asks, pointing between you two. You notice Ty close by, his gaze sharp as he eavesdrops. Rafe notices him, too.
You squeeze Rafeâs hand tighter, clinging to him. He notices that his entire body buzzes when you do that.
âWhat, was I supposed to call you?â Rafe responds.
âIâm just saying,â his friend replies with a laugh, âitâs like all of a sudden, you got a girl out of nowhere.â
Alarm stings every inch of your skin when you notice Tyâs posture straighten in your peripheral.
âDonât sound so surprised, asshole,â Rafe replies lightheartedly, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp to drape his heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him.
You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his torso. The relief from how well he played it off and the comfort you get from how heâs holding you is overwhelming.
Rafe dips his head to speak into your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, his cologne fresh.
âThink heâs falling for it now?â he mumbles, voice lowering an octave. With the way heâs holding you, you might fall for it yourself.
âYeah,â you breathe. You squeeze him tighter, not for show, but because you want to. Youâve wanted to hug him since the funeral, when he was a boy with bloodshot eyes in a crumpled black suit, but he never let you get this close.
He brings his other hand up to your face, cradling your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. His touch is so tender that you have to remind yourself itâs Rafe doing this.
Youâre suspended, bodies curved together, cheeks brushing, like youâre playing a game to see whoâll let go first.
âAnd heâs staying away from you, right?â His breath is warm against the shell of your ear.
You nod, at a loss for words.
âIs he watching?â he asks. You can see from the corner of your eye that your ex is staring right at you.
âMhm,â you hum with a nod.
At this point, Rafe is being selfish. This is close enough. You wanted him to act like youâre a couple and heâs done it. He can pull away now. Maybe he should keep his arm around you for a little longer, but he doesnât need to be this close.
Instead, he lowers to press his lips against your cheek and you hug him tighter, and fuck, it feels so good that he misses it before itâs even over.
He canât believe that his body yearns to be this close to you. You opened up the floodgates the second you put your hand on him the first time a couple of nights ago. How good would it feel if you were doing it for real?
You lean into his kiss. His lips are so soft. You wish you could feel them against yours. Itâs all to make everyone think youâre actually together. You keep telling yourself that.
When your arms around him weaken just a little, you feel something at his back, protruding against your forearm.
Your eyebrows draw together as you pull back only a few inches to meet Rafeâs eyes, your mind going to the worst possible scenario. Your breath catches. Itâs a weapon.
âWhat is that?â you ask quietly, nudging against the hard item tucked into the band of his jeans.
âWhat do you think?â
âRafe,â you say. His jaw tightens. The moment is gone. The wall is back up. Your tone teeters on a thin edge, like youâre judging him.
âYouâre surprised the psycho owns a gun?â he scoffs.
He didnât brush off what Ty said like you thought he did. It makes your stomach turn that your exâs lie actually stuck with Rafe.
You glance over to see Tyâs back as he storms out of the room. Part of you is relieved, but right now, you mostly feel anxious that Rafe believes a lie.
âI never called you that,â you reiterate to him quietly. âIâve never said anything bad about you. You think you can trust what he says?â
âIâm not planning on using it on him, okay?â Rafe snaps. âUnless he asks for it.â
He wishes you didnât notice it. If you didnât think he was fucked up before, you do now. Heâs pissed off and embarrassed and disappointed all at once.
Youâve been trying to reconnect with him for so long. If he gives in, youâll see that heâs not even close to who he was when you knew him. Heâll just let you down.
He realizes he hasnât kept his distance only because youâre a painful reminder of a time he wants to forget. Itâs also because heâs sure you wouldnât like who heâs become. And he canât take the rejection.
Youâre still, unable to believe that he actually has a gun. That he would use it. That these are the lengths heâs going to to keep you safe.
You havenât lost contact with him, but Rafe checks out of the moment and pulls his arm away.
âHeâs gone now,â he mutters. You get the message. Heâs done pretending. You drop your arms and find your friends again.
Hours later, the party is dwindling, but far from over. Rafe has been sober the entire time, making him all the more antsy and irritable.
He thought heâd beat the shit out of Ty tonight, but heâs exhausted and he canât stop shaking. Why the hell is he shaking?
Rafe loses his patience and approaches you while youâre dancing with your friends.
âLetâs go,â he says, holding your hand. The contact makes your head spin all over again. Even though youâd like to stay, you comply.
You notice Tyâs eyes on you when you leave. Heâs pretending to be a good guy again, keeping his distance, but you know itâs only a matter of time before he cracks.
Once you reach Rafeâs motorcycle in the cool night air, he hands you his helmet and you take it without hesitation.
After the short drive, you walk up the steps to your front door together. But you soon stop in your tracks, eyes wide as you stare at the ground.
Rafe follows your eye line. Mudâs been tracked onto the porch in fragmented footprints.
âI canât⊠I canât remember if that was there before,â you stammer. âDid you see it this morning?â
âI donât know,â he responds. He rushed out of here too quickly to have noticed something like that.
You look around, as if you can find an answer in the darkness surrounding your home. You would have noticed it after you ran your errands earlier today. Probably. Maybe.
It could have been you. Or Rafe. Or one of your friends.
Or Ty. He didnât arrive at the party until late into the night. Could he have been creeping around your house? Why would he?
Rafe glances up to confirm that there arenât any cameras aiming at the door. It pisses him off when he notices there arenât any cameras at all. He quickly catches on that your breathing has grown faster.
âCome on,â he says, gently pulling you by the crook of your elbow. âLetâs go inside. Itâs nothing.â
He doesnât believe his own words, but thereâs no reason to scare you any further.
âWhat if he was here?â you say, letting Rafe pull you to the door. He takes the key out of your hand and pushes it into the lock.
âThen Iâll shoot him,â he mutters.
âThatâs not funny.â
âI wasnât joking.â
The door swings open, prompting the security system to start beeping.
You flip on the light and enter the code as he shuts the door behind you. Youâre so frightened and unnerved that you jam one of the buttons with the wrong finger, prompting a harsh error noise from the system.
âCan you do this?â you huff. You tell Rafe the five-digit code and he quickly enters it, arming the system again. You notice his hand is trembling.
âAre you okay?â you ask. You know itâs not from fear. Rafe isnât afraid of anything. He must be high on something. âWhatâd you take?â
âNothing,â he says with a humorless laugh. It dawns on him that his body is reacting to the lack of coke in his system. âThatâs the problem.â
âWhat?â you ask.
Rafe sighs, double-checking that the front door is locked for your peace of mind.
âI canât be wasted if that asshole tries me. I havenât taken anything since last night,â he says. âBut it just made shit worse.â
He realizes how messed up it sounds. How messed up it is that being sober for one night makes him shake like this. He has a problem. But he never really had a reason to get clean before now.
You watch Rafe checking the lock and like a riptide, everything crashes down on you at once.
The torment from Ty harassing you. The guilt from asking Rafe to take on this responsibility. The sadness from knowing that heâs only doing it because he feels a sense of obligation for you and wants nothing more.
âBet youâre glad I have a gun now,â Rafe mutters. He turns to look at you, your expression grim. âWhat?â
âI donât want to keep bothering you with this,â you admit, your heart racing with panic. âI donât want you to have to sleep here and I donât want you to have to drive me home all the time and⊠I hate that this is happening and that I had to drag you into it.â
His eyes travel over the anguish etched on your face.
âWhat, like itâs your fault heâs a piece of shit?â he says.
You chew on the inside of your cheek and look up to the ceiling, trying to keep your tears at bay. Itâs still odd being alone with him, having him in your home.
Rafe hasnât tried to make someone feel better in a long time. He hasnât cared enough to. He takes a deep breath.
âI donât mind doing this, alright?â he says.
âYou donât?â You take in the softness in his eyes that you donât often see.
âThink Iâd be here if I did?â
âI donât know,â you say. âYou used to do things you didnât want to all the time for me.â
The Rafe that was your best friend always went along with whatever you wanted to play, wherever you wanted to go.
He grits his teeth, tearing his eyes off of you, trying not to think about how when he was a kid, if someone asked him who his favorite person was, heâd tell them that it was a tie between you and his mom.
âDonât talk about how shit used to be,â he says quietly. And because he doesnât want to see that hurt look on your face again, he adds, âPlease.â
The mere prospect of talking about the past seems to actually give him pain. It dawns on you that youâre looking at a man who may have never processed what happened to him.
âDo you want something to eat?â you offer, changing the subject swiftly.
Rafe realizes heâs starving.
âYeah,â he says.
A memory washes over you as Rafe sits at your kitchen counter, eating leftovers you heated up for him.
It was a humid summer day and you two were scarfing down the lunch his mother made for you after a morning of swimming behind his house.
Rafe always liked picking the wildflowers that grew in the grass that lined the beach for his mom. The ones he found that day were purple, sitting in a small vase she put in the center of the dining room table.
Every time he gave her a small bundle of uneven flowers, she had the same joyful reaction. Rafe always looked so proud of himself when she enthusiastically thanked her son.
It was just another happy day.
Until Ward came into the kitchen and like always, Rafeâs smile disappeared. Your best friend tended to shrink when his dad was around. Ward almost always found something to chide his son about. He never spoke like that to his daughters.
âCould you eat any faster?â Ward muttered. âWhere are your manners?â
âLeave him alone, Ward,â Anne said with a sigh. His motherâs tone was only ever sharp when she was defending her little boy.
You remember watching her lean to kiss Rafeâs head, earning a small smile from him. Then she winked at you, trying to dismiss the tension from the room.
You wonder what Ward has said to Rafe ever since he lost the only person who stuck up for him.
You face the sink as you wash your hands, your back to Rafe, trying to stifle the tears that build as you imagine what the world would be like if the wreck never happened. Who would Rafe be if he never lost her? If a part of him didnât die with her?
Is it crazy to think that youâd still be best friends, instead of two strangers pushed together in such an arduous situation? You miss her so much that it hurts and all this is yet another thing adding to the weight sitting on your shoulders.
Rafe hears you sniffle and when you finally turn around, you stare at the floor as you try to rush away.
âWhat is it?â he asks. Is he already failing at making you feel safe?
You freeze. You canât tell him whatâs really bothering you. Especially since he asked you not to talk about your memories.
âIâm just freaked out.â Itâs not exactly what youâre thinking of now, but itâs true. This mess with Ty is a nightmare. âIf he was really creeping around here⊠Ugh, I donât know what heâs going to do next.â
Rafe chews slower as he observes you through narrow eyes. Heâs no stranger to the pain of crying to sleep. He doesnât want that for you.
You notice his hands are still trembling. You have no idea how often he does coke, but it must be an addiction if one night without it makes his body react like this.
âWhat else do you need?â he asks. It comes out sharper than he intended, like heâs asking what else you could possibly want from him after heâs given you so much.
Your lips thin as you stare at him from across the counter. He doesnât think heâs ever seen someone look so miserable.
âNothing,â you mutter. âGood night.â
You start to walk away but Rafe says your name to stop you and it sounds so good coming out of his mouth that your stomach numbs. When was the last time he said it?
You turn to look at him. His eyes dart down to his food.
âWhat ifâŠâ he begins, his fork loudly clattering against the dish. âWould it help if I slept in your room?â
Youâre surprised. And soothed by the thought of him sleeping close by in case your ex does something as unhinged as break in.
Everyone else paints Rafe as rude and aggressive, but you knew it. You knew he still had some kindness in him.
âYeah,â you say. âIt would help.â
(part four)
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#this part got soooo long because i just couldnt find a place to pause lols#its not a fic by me if rafe doesnt cry <3#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron and you#rafe cameron and reader#rafe cameron and y/n#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic
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