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itrainswhenurhere · 24 days ago

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I MISS YOU, IM SORRY

ONE- NOW THAT WE DONT TALK

a/n: i know nothing about the bahamas guys im poor af i have never been so ignore me if i’m just guessing things😭 i am also SUCH a picky eater (at my grown age i know) so forgive me for not knowing what they serve at fancy ass restaurants besides pasta

cw: mentions of smut, detailed smut descriptions, angst, heartbreak, infidelity, reader deserves better

you and rafe had met at a bar. the august air was humid, everything just cooling down for what you presumed would just be another winter spent with prying family and fake friends.

everyone had met a weekend before the school year at brown had started. you knew for sure half of them did not earn or work for their place in this uni, but you played along- you really did like most of them.

you remember locking eyes for the first time as everyone sat down to drink overly expensive beer. he was ridiculously beautiful in a way that every single feature of his seemed to have been sculpted by some higher power.

he had offered you a courteous smile, polite yet intrigued. it didn’t take long for you and him to connect snugly into the group, and with eachother.

it took about a week into the school year for you both to give up on the whole take it slow act. he was so eager, having had grown so fond of you already. he had kissed down you like you were something to be treated with care- and then fucked you like he had been waiting his whole life.

when you two went official, you had expected nothing less than the occasional jealous girl trying to sabotage you both, but you hadn’t expected quite as many.

girls would tell you all the time, unintentionally quoting eachother, “i promise you, he’s a player, like… seriously, that man doesn’t love anything.” they would all warn in unison.

you figured it was different with you, because it was.

he couldn’t possibly just hand out that kind of vulnerability and care to anyone. there was no way he looked at other women the way he looked at you.

he would be soft and gentle with you if you wanted, he would shamelessly flirt with you in public, he would tell you just how serious he was about you, even when you were both so young.

he told you he loved you everyday. until he couldn’t.

it was about eight months in, early march- when you noticed it.

the way he would turn his phone away whenever you were around, in a way that at the start, could be seen as innocent. he’d leave you on delivered for entire school days, pretending to just be busy with work.

with many more similar ‘incidents’ following, you caught on. you had always been an overthinker, and your heart was racing everytime he’d kiss you goodbye to hang around his ‘new friends.’

it had happened. rafe cameron had grown tired of you. bored of you. just like you were warned.

it had destroyed you. broken your heart before you had even heard the full truth.

you remember exactly where you were when they confirmed everything.

kiara had facetimed you late one night, around half an hour after you’d left the party- she always liked to stay later.

you thought she would just need a lift home, almost jumping for your car keys when she called.

“hey what’s up?” you mumbled, forehead only visible on screen, halfway through a slice of pizza. kiara looked more worried than she ever had on her numerous nights out wasted- and that’s when you knew something was wrong.

“kiara… are you okay??” you swallow in your throat. “uh no yeah, i just.. something happened, with…” she speaks apprehensively.

your first thought was of him.

you felt your stomach sink, you had been having nightmares about this moment for like a fortnight due to his behaviour, were they really about to come true? kiara wouldn’t act like this about anything else.

“with.. who?” but it was no use, the air had already left your lungs and your voice came out weak.

“look… rafe- and i-i know how much you love him but i overheard another girl talking about how she’d…..”

everything went quiet, the ringing in your ears taking over. you weren’t even listening anymore, only subconsciously. enough to catch on to her point.

she had overheard some random woman at a bar. talking about how she’d hooked up with rafe this time last week, and he wanted to see her again. rafe. your rafe.

the same rafe that had cried in your arm about his horrible dad.

the same rafe that told you everytime he was inside you that you were made for him.

the same rafe who had been fucking cheating on you.

you were humiliated. angry- the strong emotion taking over the sadness that had already been plaguing you for the past two weeks.

you hung up the phone with a quick ‘thank you’ and changed everything.

you immediately blocked his number, removed him on every single platform and changed your locks.

he didn’t try to reach out anyways. not once. not in real life. not through another phone. you couldn’t wrap your head around it. you didn’t.

how was this the same rafe?

you spent the next two months rebuilding your life, taking back everything you had so generously dedicated to him, getting rid of all his old sweatshirts in the most cliche way possible, burning them.

you had dyed your hair, gone on some spiritual detox, tried everything. two months in and you still couldn’t get away.

rafes presence still lingered like a bad smell, your nose occasionally picking up scents from his cologne that you knew weren’t really there.

you had avoided him and everyone at all cost- rafe still being out when you found out gave you opportunity to just ghost, figuring it would help more than having him gaslight and shamelessly deny your accusations.

the two of you hadn’t spoken since he’d kissed you goodbye and promised to see you when he got home.

i mean he practically lived in your apartment, not far down from the university- his second home, where he slept most nights despite having his own bigger place to stay.

the earth had tilted off its axis and you were trying desperately to fix it- to no avail.

he was still here, still everywhere. he was there when you took showers and felt his phantom fingers curve around your waist, he was there when you folded the laundry he used to do for you, he was there when you’d fall asleep alone every night in a bed that used to harbour the two of you. yet he was nowhere to be seen.

you had hung out a few times with your girlfriends, but they still didn’t see you nearly as much as they used to.

you felt desperate and pathetic everytime you avoided big group hangouts just incase he’d be there. it was nothing like you, he had changed you forever.

that was until, your phone had lit up with streams of messages from a group chat you didn’t recognise.

“caribbean 2025!!🏝️🏝️”

huh??

the group chat pinged with alerts.

sarah💝💝: surpriseee

sarah💝💝: i can send you all the hotel numbers! the bahamas…

oh jesus. you remember the day in december when you had all gotten wasted and joked around about holidays together on a tropical island- and sarah had picked the worst time to take the plans out of the group chat.

kiekie: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SERIOUS

sarah💝💝: YES my dad wants me and rafe out his hair for the holidays soooo

your stomach flutter uncomfortably. you had expected it from the second she had announced the trip, but hearing it still hurt. you would have to see him.

sarah💝💝: he funded the trip!!!!!

sarah, she was rafes sister, far too sweet for her own good and filthy rich, she had always been kind to you- especially after you and him and broken up.

she didn’t chastise you once for not listening to her polite warning about him. you figured she was used to it.

jayj: ur kidding..

sarah💝💝: nopeee

john booker: i love your dad so much omfg

sarah💝💝: it’s three weeks from todayy

replying to ‘surpriseee’

cleor: we love u sarah!!!!!

cara: i’m so excited

pope🛐: is now a good time to start packing??

jesse!!: probably not..

44 7786 3801 (maybe: sofia): so excited!! ily!

sarah💝💝: 😇

you decide that, no, this is good for you. it was inevitable that you would run into him somewhere- plus, it’s not like you’d see him all the time..

you: how long is the stay!! i can go❤️

cara: finally going somewhere..😒😒

you: kys

replying to ‘how long is the stay!! i can go❤️’

blocked number: a fortnight

wow. this was going to be a long few weeks.

when the day finally came- after three weeks of endless shopping trips, a panic attack or two and a large suitcase, you were ready.

sarah had forwarded you the flight details and you had sent everything in a car to the airport already.

you were halfway out the door, clutching sunglasses a half eaten apple by the time she called.

your screen lit up with ‘sarah💝💝’ and you figured she was calling you to check in and see when you’d be getting there.

you dropped the apple on your kitchen counter and padded your thumb over the accept button, your phone now in your free hand.

“hey girl, i’m just leaving sorry, am i late?”

you hear shuffling in the background. “uhhh no you’re not late buttt…”

you freeze. what could possibly have gone wrong this time?

“my dad is like old as fuck right, and he accidentally booked your flight 12 hours before everyone else, or maybe it was cos there was no seats, well you and someone else but like, no, i just checked over everyone’s and you and someone are leaving like before everyone else.”

to be fair your luck already couldn’t get worse and you were expecting something like a cancellation.

“ohh shit. no that’s fine tho, it’s still the same hotel?” you open your door and start to make your way to your car from the stairs.

“yep, same hotel. can you text me once you get there?” you shove you sunglasses over your tank top to hold the phone with both hands, hoping to be able hear better over the bustling streets of rhode island. “cos i need to find out who i sent the flight right now to, i sent them randomly, cos, like, i thought they were all the same.”

“sure yeah i’ll talk to you later!” you blurt, turning the corner to the car park.

the drive to airport wasn’t too far and getting there set everything in stone, easing your worries. you’re fine. you’re going to have an amazing two weeks in the bahamas for god sakes, and rafe cameron is not going to bother you.

you’re sitting on the dirty silver seats waiting to board when you get sarah’s follow up text.

sarah💝💝: did you make it there fine?

you: yess just waiting to board

you: do u kno who the other person with me is? are they here yet???

you wait for her reply, eyes darting around the numerous rows of chairs for someone that you recognise.

there were only 10 of sarah’s closest friends going with her, what are the chances it would be-

your phone pings.

sarah💝💝: rafe

is she serious??

sarah💝💝: i am actually so so sorry about this i promise it wasn’t some kind of weird intervention thing

ugh. god.

no.

it’s fine. you won’t let him deter you from another good thing, you’ll simply avoid at all costs, and when everyone else arrives, you’ll have plenty of fun with them.

you: it’s fine sare

you: i’ll see you guys when yall get here

sarah💝💝: sorry again about him🙄 he’s such an asshole

asshole is an understatement.

you: i’m kind of just planning on ignoring it…

sarah💝💝: ITTT😭😭😭

you put your phone back in your bag with a chuckle- that still manages to come out cold, and make your way to board, your excited expression, even if forced, remaining prominent.

once you make your way onto the plane you sit comfortably in first class and silently thank ward camerons old ass for not sitting you next to rafe, who you still haven’t seen. you question for a second if he even is on this flight.

you’ve never been a big fan of flying, already on edge and the turbulence disturbs whatever sleep you try to fit in.

all your sadness over your ex-boyfriend had melted into anger over the two months you had spent apart, having already mourned him near the end of your relationship.

or atleast, that’s what you tell yourself.

when you arrive at lyndon international airport and touch down, you pad over to exit and wait outside for your car.

when the driver arrives and tells you that he’s waiting on your partner aswell, you almost have the nerve to tell him to just drive away.

you stand against the car, waiting for the one man you never wanted to see again.

it’s hot outside and your lack of proper clothing doesn’t stop the scorching heat from breaking you out in sweats. you take a second from fanning yourself off to really look at the scenery around you. the island is unbelievably nice.

everything builds up the perfect atmosphere together. the palm trees swaying in the warm breeze, the pleasant colours still visible through your sunglasses, the bustling tourists, the unbelievably bright sun, rafe cameron walking toward you in the shorts you bought for him.

you had gone through practically every stage of grief with that man, but nothing was as cruel and heart wrenching as the smirk painted on his face as he strides over to the car.

you couldn’t believe it. every emotion you had pushed down into the deepest parts of you come rising up.

you are sad. you realise. still heartbroken. you had never moved on, just deflected, you realise.

maybe he hasn’t seen you? maybe he-

no, he has.

you had expected him to look a little sad, maybe upset. even some kind of apologetic tight smile- but no, he’s smirking at you like he didn’t absolutely destroy you.

it takes a second for you to regain composure, surprised at how easy it is to act unaffected. you wordlessly climb into the car before he can come face to face with you, hoping he didn’t catch your eye contact through your sunglasses.

after a minute, he’s walked around the car and is sitting almost shoulder to shoulder with you in the backseat. heat incomparable to the temperature outside radiates off of him and you wish you had the willpower to not ogle him.

he looks almost as different as you do. he had cut off the hair that you used to grab onto subconsciously every night in your sleep, leaving him with a buzz. his features had further hardened and instead of looking like the boy that had used to cling to you like it was second nature, he looks like a man that you no longer recognise.

he looks so annoyingly beautiful in a way that makes you want to jump out of the car mid drive and walk alone to the resort.

you couldn’t understand how he could ever be so cold after everything that had happened between you two, if you weren’t already told that none of it had really meant anything to him.

your body is angled as far away from his as possible and you keep you face glued to outside the window as the ride continues. he doesn’t speak, but he looks completely relaxed. casual. you want to fucking throttle him.

the ride to the hotel is actually shorter than the one to the airport, yet drags out a million times more due to the walking ball of nostalgic lies sitting next to you.

once you arrive, you thank the driver and continue to refuse rafe a second of your attention. you walk to the check in and give the lady the cameron last name.

“and you two are together?” the woman at the front questions. “same booking, but we’d like separate rooms, there should be five booked.” you thought not acknowledging him would make you feel powerful. you only feel lonely.

“ohh, same booking, i’m afraid we cannot do that then.” excuse me. “uh, what- what do you mean?” you ask hastily. “well, if it’s only the two of you for now- you’ll have to share, we won’t use up spare rooms if we don’t need to, you are also early. we only have one room that is both clean and free of current guests.”

you scramble for an solution to her dilemma, you won’t be caught dead sharing a room with that man. “uh, you know i don’t mind waiting- i wasn’t planning on hanging around here anyways.”

you take it back. you’re going to kill sarah.

“mrs cameron. we have no room for adjustments, and only one key available.” your cheeks flush at the the miss-naming, mostly from embarrassment. you had dreamed that one day you’d be called that. you were actually stupid enough to think that he would ever do such a thing. and now you’re next to him trying to shift a reservation to take away his involvement because you can’t even stand to be around him.

you watch rafe rub the back of his skull from the corner of your eye, slightly awkwardly. wow, that must be the first non-mocking expression he’s given since his arrival.

“uh, are you sure?” he offers, like you haven’t already been haggling with the front desk right infront of him, his voice gruff and low- taking you back.

“yes, you can wait for your friends or family to get here, but for the time being..” she gestures vaguely at the key she had placed infront of the both of you.

your mouth opens and shuts, seriously considering arguing your case, maybe if you tell her about the situation with rafe, she’ll understand, girls support girls right??

before you can form a full sentence in response, rafe swiftly takes the keychain and begins to make his way to the lift, leaving you behind. he spares a glance your way, expression now back to neutral, and stutters slightly, like unsure what to do, when he turns to find you still in your spot.

he must decide that it’s not worth staying, because he faces the elevator once again and prepares to get in.

you huff in annoyance and reluctantly follow along, not wanting to take the stairs in this weather.

the lift ride to the fifth floor is awkward and silent, for you atleast, as expected.

the room however, is much nicer. you knew the hotel was expensive, but to honest you weren’t exactly expecting luxury and you’re now feeling slightly bad that you haven’t payed for this.

and then you remember that’s it’s all coming out of ward camerons bank account, and suddenly you’re okay again. you had heard horror stories about that man, from rafe and sarah.

there are two rooms on each floor, taking up the entire space. you and rafe are in stay number nine, with a view toward the beach.

there’s a kitchen with an island as you walk in, everything glossed over and marble, it’s an open floor and you’re sure you can see every corner of the room from any angle. so much for privacy.

there’s a full living room with two couches and a coffee table facing opposite. jesus. the beds are at the far corner, and you physically sigh at the fact that they might aswell be closer together than anything else in the place.

all this and the only thing you can think of is still him. how can you physically stand to be around him. maybe even speak to him. god, you felt so pitiful.

rafe is skimming one of his big hands over the kitchen island that greets him when he walks in, and you wish like everything that you didn’t know how they felt bringing you to orgasm.

fuck. get it together.

you quickly make your way over to the beds, claiming the one sitting closest to the window. there’s only a small gap in between the two and you pray the distance will suffice.

your bags would probably be brought up soon enough, but for now you simply sit a pair your pair of sunglasses on the sheets of the bed you had claimed, preparing to go shower off your humiliation before you visit the beach.

“hey,” someone speaks from a distance. you’re confused for a second because it isn’t rafe, it wouldn’t be?

when you turn around to follow the noise and find nothing other than an expressionless face belonging to rafe himself, you find that, it is indeed him.

“so, how have you been?” he offers. it’s all he offers.

“how have i been?” you repeat back to him, confused and mocking, like he’ll suddenly snap out of it and take the words back himself.

“yeah,” he remains completely uncaring. “jesus, ‘was just askin.”

great. small talk and gaslighting, all in one. truly a skill that only rafe cameron possesses.

you decide that, instead of reacting like you ache to- to scream, to accuse, to shout, that you will simply return energy. he’s not worth your time. fake it till you make it.

“no i know. im fine,” trying to keep your voice from shaking.

he’s visibly puzzled for a second, expecting some sort of reaction, before he decides that he just doesn’t care. he reaches to put his backpack on the unclaimed bed, seemingly also waiting for his luggage- and exits the bedroom into the sitting one.

you decide that now is a good time to rest, finally start the relaxing holiday you’ve been hoping for.

after a good five minutes laying down in your twin sized bed collecting your thoughts, you hear your luggage arrive from outside the door.

upset at your thoughts being disrupted but also equally happy that you can unpack- you hop up to grab your suitcases.

it doesn’t take long for you to get ready in the bathroom and prepare to leave at the pace you’re going at, no regard for anything except starting your holiday.

“where are you going?” rafe startles you, turning from the door to find him in his bathing suit and sunglasses. “out,” you return, almost coldly- staying returning energy.

“gimme a minute, i need to pack a bag,” when you work out what he’s getting at, you all but scoff at him, amused that he thinks for a second you’re going to be hanging out with him for the next twelve hours you’ll spend alone together.

“i’m not going anywhere with you??” you mock confusion and disgust in hopes of hurting him; however, he’s undeterred, clearly not caring what you think. “i need to stay with you, sarah doesn’t want you walking a country you don’t know anything about alone.”

“i’m fine, they all speak english,” you wish he would not pretend to give a shit and just say it like it is.

“where you going?” he changes subject.

“the beach,” you reply hastily.

“cool. same,” he’s packing sun cream on the kitchen island now.

oh my god he can be so fucking infuriating, something you used to love about him, that now only leaves you feeling empty. he used to do things like this out of requited love, now he only does them because his sister will kill him if he doesn’t.

you huff, having had enough. “goodbye,” you turn around as he finishes zipping up his backpack and slam the door shut, figuring if he has to be there, he’ll be walking atleast five feet behind you.

you shuffle around the island of bustling tourists and loud noises before making to the main beach, rafe having no problem trailing close- but not too close behind you.

the water is practically a see through turquoise colour at the spot of cave you find around the beaches side.

you lay your towel down and prepare to bask for a few hours.

rafe- who arrives seconds after you, pops his bag down and lies his own towel annoying close to yours.

you sunbathe with a book for around an hour with surprisingly zero interruptions besides rafes occasional shuffling, probably not enjoying himself, before growing bored and heading for one of the deeper, closed off pools at the side of the cave.

you abruptly stand, shaking off remnants of sand as you start your walk.

you can feel rafes eyes on you, and you only hope he won’t disturb your peace when you leave his line of vision- surely he doesn’t care that much?

once you’ve settled in, you lie on your back and float around the current-less pool, looking up to the sky as if some higher power could give you answers.

what are you doing here?

how did this happen?

why did this happen to you?

you find yourself groaning out loud at the turn your life has taken since rafe walked into- and evidently out of it, you really had swerved 180° into some parallel universe.

you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands, willing a time machine to fix the mistakes you had made. meeting rafe. the mistakes he had made. ruining everything.

you try not to fall back into the whole spiral of ‘how long was he cheating?’ or, ‘did he ever actually care?’ but it’s pointless. so many things left unanswered, so many times you had been ridiculed and lied to and-

a splash of water ripples around the pool and you think for a second the tide has risen so high the ocean has gotten in, not that that was any worse that the reality.

rafe. again.

you open your eyes and lift your upper body from its downward position, the water reaching just past your navel.

“it’s nice here,” he speaks bluntly at the large secluded area you had found to be alone in.

he slowly continues the makeshift stairs of rock and submerges himself in the water, still at the opposite side from you.

he leans down and sits on one of the rocks underwater, manspreading once again and leaning against the pools walls.

“what are you doing here?” you’re tired of this, it’s only playing with your feelings more, and ruining your plans of separation.

“can i not sit with you?” and there’s a faint hint of a smirk written on his face that has your blood boiling.

“no. we broke up,” you state matter of factly, hoping the pain it caused you doesn’t all translate through your four letter response.

something familiar flashes over his face for a second, and before you have a chance to place it, it’s gone, replaced by his usual nonchalant demeanour, “actually no one broke up with anyone- you ghosted me.” as the words come out irritation flickers over his expression- for a split second.

you’re astonished at his audacity so much that it silences you for a few seconds, “i-” you shake your head in pure disbelief, giving up on neutral behaviour.

“this is ridiculous,” you settle on after a few seconds of just gaping at him, turning your head. you can tell he sees right through the tough act, he always could.

“sarah booked dinner at the hotel tonight,” he briskly changes subject. “for you,” he pauses, apprehensive- although you can’t really tell over his sunglasses, “well, for us.”

you scoff, almost on accident. you don’t want to be anywhere near him, you physically can’t, because wether you show it or not, wether he feels it or not, your heart still aches for him.

“ok,” your voice comes out softer than you’d like due to the thought behind it, and you can only pray he doesn’t notice.

“ok,” he responds, not amused, but also not harsh.

you spend less time on the beach than you wanted to, no longer enjoying it with a certain someone next to you.

you arrive back to the hotel and spend the next few hours lounging and organising with your airpods in, drowning out the noise.

when it’s finally time to get ready for dinner, you put on a casualish strapless white dress paired with the golden handbag you kept all your essentials in.

the restaurants tall ceilings and dim lights exude romance and you feel strikingly out of place despite fitting in physically. you certainly do not feel the same way all the adorning couples to your right and left do, staring at eachother so lovingly, naively in the way you were.

when you arrive the waitress takes you to a booth seat in the corner, and rafe lets you take the booth. he’s dressed in a classic black button down shirt with matching trousers, he certainly looks the part.

it’s awkward before you order, rafe and you seemingly both reminded of all the actual dates he used to take you on- when you wanted nothing but to be close to him.

“what can i get you both?” your server arrives with a wide yet business like grin.

rafe carefully folds his menu back in place and meets his eyes, “i’ll have the ravioli.”��

the man takes a second to note before turning to you expectantly.

“uh, i’ll have… the champagne chicken.”

“anything to drink?”

as much as you don’t want to seem like a newfound drunk infront of your ex boyfriend-

“just a bottle of red between us,” rafe cuts in before you even get the chance to speak; and as much as it’s presumptuous of him, the words would’ve fallen out of your mouth aswell had he not interrupted.

rafe turns to you as the man standing above the two of you scribbles, checking for your approval, and when you don’t outright object he takes that as sign and nods to himself-almost in approval.

“that all?” you nod gently and give a kind quick smile, “thanks.”

you revert your eyes to you surroundings as the man walks away as if it will stop the feeling of rafes eyes boring into you in your peripheral.

your dinners come quickly and you’re thankful that the service is speeding up and shortening your time at this godforsaken table. you can feel his leg bouncing discreetly under the table. the same way it did when he took you out around ten months ago and asked you officially to be his girlfriend- with the widest yet most nervous grin painting his face. you try not to get too emotional halfway into your chicken.

“is yours nice?” you wish he would just stop with the small talk.

“mhm,” you offer a curt nod, not even looking up at him, hoping he’ll take it as a sign. “i bet it’s not as nice as the ones you used to make for me, but it looks good.”

you almost fully gag up a piece of chicken making its way down your throat. this is cruel. the way he can just causally bring up memories although they’re just something he saw-spectated on, instead of actually living them, feeling them like you did.

“don’t act like you miss them,” you look up, anger bubbling in your defeated tone, subtle but there.

“i do,” he offers softly. that’s all he offers.

he’s no longer eating but instead looking up at you, scanning you for any form of reaction.

“anyways, i mainly miss what came after them,” he raises his eyebrow- softness gone, like it’s some kind of joke, like you didn’t spend months forgetting how he used to worship you whenever you tried for him, how he’d place you on your counter with the remnants of your food still on his hands and thank you for it.

“you’re so good to me, what did i do to deserve you?” he’d murmur against your forehead, panting softly into your mouth as he made sweet, soft love to you, continuing to rant on about how perfect you are. were.

to have something like that watered down and simply turned into a lewd joke made to fill silence- kills you.

you abruptly stand from your place in the booth and lock eyes with him for a second, wiping your mouth with cloth, unsure of what to do- before turning and padding away quickly to the bathroom with a “i’ll be right back.”

you don’t take the time to study his reaction, but you assume it’ll be something of annoyance- maybe an eye roll.

you push open the door and almost stumble over yourself, not exactly moving quickly anymore- just tired.

you’re thankful there’s no one else in the stalls to watch you give up.

you take both hands on the rows of sinks and take a second to stare at yourself in the mirror. god you’re pathetic. what the fuck is wrong with you? all you see when you look back at your reflection is exhaustion. this is crushing you. you can’t even look at yourself.

none of anything matters to him, none of it. you’re probably another name on a list, you probably were even before you’d broken up.

you rub the inner corners of your eyes with your palm to keep yourself from crying or getting so angry you throw something- you’re not sure.

you barely even hear the door opening.

“what?” you offer quietly, expression neutral. that’s all you offer.

he looks almost nervous and for a second you thinks it’s because he regrets his crude joke- before he speaks.

he’s standing, holding the door open, “uh, sarah called.” he’s still closed off, careful to not show too much.

you make a face that gestures for him to continue.

“there’s a storm across the ocean they were supposed to fly over, a bad one,” he dismisses at the end, nodding to emphasise.

you certainly cannot deal with whatever new problem seems to be occurring either way, but you swear to god if he says-

“all the flights are cancelled, they can’t make it.”

he pauses.

“it’s uh, just us.”

#rafe cameron #works✧₊⁺#i miss you i’m sorry #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #sarah cameron #pope heyward #john b routledge #jj maybank #cleo anderson #obx

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