#you know whats more head empty tho? airport security asking how old i was and i started counting

[turnedpalefromlackofsun]

Did you just gain 2 years on Tumblr? Were you stuck in a time loop? Were you in there for 2 years? Does time in the time loop count? Do you think about this often?

Dude I forgot how old I was 😭

I was like

7 Years sounds about right I'm x years old right? I am not x years old.

Oopsies

I forgor🥺

[radiantroope]

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two – Coming Home

chapter summary: You return to Kildare and find out just how sick your mother is. You visit a friend who’s harboring a damning secret.

warnings: familial cancer, mentions of familial death, swearing, a teeny bit of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.6k+

author’s note: another filler chapter lol. i want to make the chapters longer but i don’t want to rush the story. they’ll probably get longer after this one. chapter three is gonna be a doozy y’all, i hope you’re ready. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. i write for myself but if no one’s interested what’s the point in posting? i hope you like it!🥰

read chapter one here!

series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

You didn’t think twice about catching the first flight to the Outer Banks. Your father’s haunting, solemn voice echoed in your head. He sounded distraught and you knew he needed you. He didn’t want to discuss your mother’s condition over the phone so he bid you goodbye and promised to be waiting at the airport for you. You packed every bag you had — the three Louis Vitton suitcases displayed on the top shelf in your closet and the two large duffel bags stuffed under your queen sized bed. As much of your belongings as you could fit were haphazardly stuffed to the brim in each of them.

You didn’t sleep that night, it was no use since you booked your flight for five in the morning. Your stomach bubbled nervously as you watched the hours tick by, finally deciding to head for the airport at three. Your Uber pulled up outside your building and the driver kindly helped you get your bags into the trunk. The highway was almost completely empty in the early hours of the morning. You arrived at LAX in record time, thankful you didn’t have to deal with the dreaded California traffic.

After making your way through security and checking your bags, you found a chair at your gate in the corner away from others. You sat numbly, staring out the window as other planes took off and landed. You were preparing yourself for the worst. Your father wouldn’t have told you to come home if your mother’s condition wasn’t serious. For a fleeting moment you let yourself worry about classes and what you were going to do about school, but you quickly shoved those thoughts away. School would still be there in the end, your mother might not.

The five hour flight felt like an eternity. You tried your best to get even an ounce of sleep, but you could hear the hum of the aircraft over your music and a baby sitting a few rows behind you was crying every fifteen minutes. You ordered a rum and coke from the flight attendant to numb you a little bit more, take some of the edge off. One turned into three and finally you were landing in the Outer Banks, patting yourself on the back for not snapping at the poor mother who couldn’t console her child the whole flight.

You exited the plane, grasping your carryon tightly as you scanned the people bustling about. Your eyes landed on your father and a grin spread across both of your faces. You walked to him quickly, arms wrapping tightly around his waist as you embraced each other.

“Hi, princess,” he whispered into your hair.

Tears sprang to your eyes and a shaky sigh left your lips as you responded, “Hi, daddy.”

The two of you walked to baggage claim and collected them, your father lightly teasing you for how many you’d brought. You simply rolled your eyes and followed him out to the car. The sweltering North Carolina heat had sweat collecting along your hairline in an instant. The humid air made you regret wearing joggers and a sweater on the plane ride. You would have rather froze on the plane than be overheating at that moment.

“How’s momma?” you asked once you were in the car, blasting the air conditioning in your face and rolling up your sleeves.

Your father hesitated, letting out a heavy sigh. He reached over the center console and took your hand, giving it a squeeze as he replied, “She’s tired, but you know her. She acts like she’s fine but I know this is taking its toll on her.”

You nodded and settled back in the seat, staring out the window as your father drove home. The island still looked the same as you remembered. It looked like they’d added a new hotel and expanded on Figure Eight, a few larger, newer houses standing out against the rest.

Your house came into view and you breathed a sigh of relief. You smiled as the car pulled into the driveway and you saw your mother’s figure sitting on the wrap around porch. You jumped out of the vehicle, making your way up the cobblestone path quickly. The older woman pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her arms around your neck once you were close enough. The floodgates in your eyes opened as your arms wrapped around your mother’s fragile body, quiet sobs muffled against her shoulder as you embraced.

“Hey, hey,” your mother shushed your cries, pulling back enough to hold both sides of your face and get a good look at you. She swiped the tears off your cheeks with her thumbs and gave you a warm smile, “No crying, you hear me?”

You nodded slightly, small sniffles escaping you as you blinked away the burning sensation in your eyes. Your mother pulled you to sit in the chair beside her as your father took your bags inside the house. She waited until you’d composed yourself a bit better before speaking, “Why don’t I go grab us some tea so we can talk?”

A brain tumor, a Glioblastoma multiforme, to be more specific. It had been growing and spreading for some time now within your mother’s head. She played down her symptoms to your father, not wanting to worry him, until she had a seizure at the Cameron’s the previous Sunday. They rushed her to the hospital via ambulance and spent hours doing scans and bloodwork. The prognosis wasn’t good, since the tumor had already grown so large. Even through chemotherapy and radiation they were giving her a year at most.

You stared at the mug in front of you, watching the steam rise into the air and dissipate in front of you. You had tried to argue surgery, insisting it would at least give her more time. Your father had joined the two of you and gently told you it wasn’t an option. She likely wouldn’t survive the surgery and if she did, she could be in a coma for the rest of her life.

“This can’t be happening,” you whispered, voice breaking as you put your head in your hands. “I should have come home more. I should have gone on those vacations. I should have been here with you.”

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, you look at me,” your mother’s voice was stern as she reached across the table and grabbed your wrist gently. You lifted your head and met her gaze through blurry eyes.

“Now is not the time to blame ourselves. This is out of our hands, pumpkin. You can’t waste your time wishing to change the past. You need to be here, live here, in the present. We’re together and you’re here now, that’s what matters.”

Your father rested a strong hand on your shoulder from where he stood beside you, giving it a gentle squeeze. You slipped your hand into your mother’s, holding onto tightly as you choked out, “I love you so much. Both of you.”

You spent the afternoon unpacking your bags in your old bedroom. It was the same as you had left it, walls painted your favorite color and bed neatly made with the crisp white sheets. Some of your old posters still hung on the walls and your eyes drifted to the photo album you’d left last time you visited. The contents inside used to make you smile as you basked in the memories the pictures held, now they brought you heartache every time you looked at the smiling faces inside.

With a sigh, you forced yourself to take a long shower. You were drained emotionally and physically, having gotten no sleep the night before and the amount of crying you’d done took everything out of you. You skipped dinner and passed out early in the evening.

—

The next morning you woke up to the smell of bacon wafting through the house. You pulled yourself out of bed and trudged down the stairs with heavy steps. You’d gotten almost twelve hours of sleep but felt as though you could sleep twelve more, rubbing your eyes as you entered the bright kitchen. You greeted your parents with a soft ‘Good morning’, making a beeline for the coffee machine.

Your father plated bacon and eggs for you and your mother, setting them at the table in front of you. You hummed as warm coffee settled in your veins before digging into your breakfast. Back in California you didn’t cook for yourself much, opting to eat toast or pre-prepared meals. You missed the home cooked meals provided by your parents almost everyday.

“I spoke to Topper’s mother this morning,” your mother interrupted the comfortable silence, eyes trained on you. Your attention turned to her at the mention of your friend’s name. “You should swing by their place today. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

You and Topper had grown closer since Rafe stopped speaking to you. When you’d visit, the two of you often ran around the island together. He’d take you to the Boneyard ‘For old time’s sake’ or out on his boat with Kelce. The two of them never brought up Rafe to you, unlike Janelle. You didn’t see her much visiting home either, as she chose to stay in South Carolina most of the time. If you weren’t with Sarah or your parents, you were often with Topper. He filled that void inside of you with some warmth, but it was never full. There was still an emptiness there.

“Are you sure?” you asked, feeling reluctant to leave your parents.

Your mother scoffed slightly and waved her hand with a smile, “You can’t spend every second with us. You need to see your friends.”

As much as your mother would love to spend every second with you, she knew how important your friendships were. They were the people who would be there for you when she no longer could. It brought her comfort knowing you had people close to you to confide in. It made her proud that you developed such close relationships. Though, there was a storm on the horizon, and she wasn’t the only one who felt it.

“If you insist,” you hummed and stood from the table, placing your plate in the sink then pressing a kiss to your parent’s heads. “But you better call me if you need anything!” you called as you ascended the stairs to get ready.

You threw on a green bikini, in case you found yourself at the beach. You put on a pair of cut off shorts and a loose crop top then slipped some sandals on your feet. You grabbed the keys to your father’s car and made your way through Figure Eight to the Thornton house. A soft smile graced your face as you pulled up and saw the woman of the house stepping out the front door.

You climbed out of the car and the older woman’s face lit up as she spotted you. The two of you met in the middle of the driveway and she wrapped her arms around you tightly, “Y/N, honey, it’s so good to see you. How’s your mother?”

“She’s in good spirits. She’s as good as she can be,” you replied, pulling back and giving Mrs. Thornton a smile.

“That’s good to hear,” she gave your upper arms a squeeze before pulling away and moving to her car, “I’ve gotta run. Topper’s out by the pool. Don’t be a stranger!”

You walked around the large modern looking house and went through the gate. You rounded the corner and saw Topper standing at the bar built into the patio, presumably putting together a drink. There was music playing softly from the outdoor speakers and you couldn’t help but smile. He must have heard the gentle pat of your sandals against the cement because he looked up and audibly gasped when he saw you.

“My God, Topper, could your outfit be any brighter?” you giggled as he set whatever was in his hands on the counter and raced over to you. His orange polo was almost neon in the sun and his swim trunks were a similar shade.

“Shut up, come here,” he laughed as he reached you and scooped you up under the waist. You stood on your toes, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your eyes slipped closed, basking in the warm and inviting hug.

Topper pulled back and looked down at you, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and the noticeable flush to your skin. He smiled softly and took you by the hand, pulling you into the shade where he had been previously, “How are you?”

You sat down at one of the bar stools and sighed heavily, putting your elbow on the counter and resting your chin in your hand. You tapped your cheek with your index finger as you pretended to think deeply before spewing, “I just up and left California a week before classes were supposed to start, I found out my mom has cancer and I came back to an island that I had no intention of ever returning to.” You paused and painted a wide smile on your lips, “I’m great, Top!”

Topper laughed softly and shook his head, grabbing a glass to make you a drink as well. “Dumb question, got it. You hate it here that bad?” he asked, staring at you as he passed the glass across the bar to you.

You took a sip of the drink and grimaced slightly at the amount of spiced rum the boy had used, overpowering the orange juice mixed in. You sighed again and played with the straw, avoiding his eyes, “Don’t get me wrong, I miss my parents and Sarah and you guys.. There’s just a lot of things I’d rather forget. People I’d rather not see.”

“How long has it been?” Topper questioned, the look on his face telling you exactly what he was talking about. He didn’t want to outright say it. He didn’t know how deep those wounds still ran. It took him over a year to get over Sarah’s infidelity and they weren’t even together all that long. He couldn’t imagine losing a friend of almost twenty years.

“Five years,” you said through a dry laugh. “Can you believe that? Five fucking years.”

“I’m sorry,” he responded genuinely. It was a lame response and he knew it, but there was nothing else he could have said. Nothing could change how the last five years of your life had played out.

You shook your head and leaned back in the chair, running your fingers through your hair, “I don’t even want to think about it. When I think about it I get angry, and I’m so fucking tired of being angry.”

Topper dropped the subject after that. The two of you finished your drinks and he took you to the island club for lunch, knowing you loved the food even though you talked shit about how prestigious the organization was. After that he took you to the beach and you watched the sunset from your favorite lookout. It was near a cliff but you preferred to sit down below, atop the large and cracked rocks where the waves crashed. The ocean spray cooled off your warm skin and the blinding sunlight reflecting off the water was your favorite. You felt at peace there. The roaring sound of the ocean drowned out even your darkest thoughts.

Topper watched you, the way your mouth would twitch as you thought of something subconsciously. He watched you close your eyes when a particularly large wave would crash and water splashed at your feet. He felt a pit growing in his stomach because he knew you wouldn’t be like this for long — so at peace. You were unknowingly a ticking time bomb, ready to blow everything and everyone close to you to pieces.

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