ྀིྀི⋆˚࿔↷frat!rafe stumbles into a room you're hiding in and suddenly, he's not as untouchable as you thought...
warnings ; not proofread ! angstttt, fluff if you squint, mentions/allusions to rafe being super high, sensitive!reader but not really, drinking, mentions of ward....eugh.
notes ; all this talk of angst fics made me just whip this up... enjoy! um if you can that is ... poor rafe
the pulsating bass from the speakers below reverberated through the walls, embodying the cacophony and disarray of the party. you had attended with the faint hope of explaining the acute sting of isolation, yet the atmosphere only worsened your sense of alienation. somewhere between observing your so-called friends laughing without you and the burn of vodka that failed to dull the ache, you slipped away, seeking refuge in a random upstairs room.
tears clouded your vision as you stared at your phone. the group chat buzzed with plans that excluded you. the exclusion was blatant, friends tagging one another in shared jokes, the humour opaque to you. the ache in your chest defied articulation, a weight that no amount of deep breaths could alleviate. you perched on the edge of an unfamiliar bed, trembling and endeavouring to stifle the sound of your sobs.
the door creaked open, the sound startlingly loud in the muffled cocoon you’d made for yourself.
“yo, what the f—” the voice was thick with inebriation, but the tone carried an undercurrent of irritation. you looked up sharply to find rafe cameron leaning in the doorway. his figure was the epitome of disheveled elegance, a boy who wore chaos like it was tailored for him. his eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, and his shirt hung askew, a caricature of the golden boy image he wielded like a weapon.
“what are you doing in here?” your voice came out uneven, cracked like a porcelain vase hastily glued together. you hated the way it betrayed you.
he stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind him with an air of finality. “nah, what're you doin' in here? crying? at a party?” the question hung in the air, the mockery in his tone as unsteady as his balance.
“just go away,” you managed, swiping angrily at your cheeks. it wasn’t a plea, it was a defence.
he didn’t leave. instead, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. for a long moment, he said nothing. the silence was louder than the bass below, filled with the heavy presence of unspoken thoughts. you wanted him to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask again. his presence was intrusive, but his silence was almost comforting, as though your misery had drawn out its mirror in him.
“it’s stupid,” you muttered, breaking the unbearable quiet. “you wouldn’t get it.”
his gaze flicked toward you, but he didn’t speak. his stillness was unnerving, like he was afraid that moving too suddenly would shatter whatever fragile tether kept him grounded.
“it’s just… it’s like no one even sees me. like i’m some kind of shadow in their perfect little worlds.” the words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. you hated how small they sounded, how small you felt. “i’m there, but i’m not there. and it’s stupid, i know it’s stupid, but it still—it still hurts.”
his hand fidgeted in his lap, the faintest movement breaking his otherwise rigid posture. still, he didn’t speak. your frustration mounted, burning hotter than the tears.
“are you even listening?” you snapped, your voice cracking under the weight of your anger and humiliation. “or are you just sitting here so you can feel better about yourself?”
his head lifted at that, and for the first time, you saw something like pain flash across his features. it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the stony mask he wore so well.
“i’m not judging you,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.
“then what are you doing?” you demanded. the words were a challenge, but they came out almost desperate.
he exhaled sharply, his hand dragging through his already tousled hair. “tryina figure out how to say something that won’t make this worse.”
“like what?” your skepticism was a shield, thin and fragile, but all you had.
he didn’t answer right away. when he finally spoke, his voice was low, barely audible over the muffled music from below. “it’s not perfect, y'know. my life. not even close.”
you blinked, caught off guard. “what?”
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together like he was holding himself in place. “you think i don’t get it. feeling like you’re not enough, like no matter what you do, you’re always falling short. but i do. trust me, i do.”
disbelief heavy in your tone. “you have everything. money, friends, girls throwing themselves at you. what could you possibly know about feeling like this?”
he let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and hollow. “none of that means shit. ward says i'm a disappointment, a- a failure..” his voice broke on the last word, and he swallowed hard, the movement sharp and jagged.
your heart twisted painfully at the rawness in his words. “rafe…” you began, but he cut you off with a sharp shake of his head.
“don’t,” he murmured, his voice fraying at the edges. “just don’t. i’m not saying this so you’ll feel sorry for me. i’m saying it because… because i get it. feeling like you’re drowning and no one even notices.”
the silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. you wanted to reach out, to say something that would pull him back from whatever precipice he was teetering on, but the words wouldn’t come.
“you’re not invisible,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “and you’re not pathetic.”
the tears you’d been holding back spilled over, hot and unrelenting. “neither are you,” you said through the sobs, your voice trembling but sure.
he turned to look at you then, his eyes glassy and red-rimmed. for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, the two of you suspended in this fragile, shared understanding.
“you shouldn’t drive,” you said after a long pause, your voice hoarse but steady. “let me take you home.”
he hesitated, his expression torn, before nodding. “yeah. okay.”
as you stood, he reached for your hand, his grip warm and grounding. neither of you spoke as you made your way to his car, the night air sharp and biting against your skin. the silence between you was no longer heavy, it was something else, something that felt almost like solace.
