You wake up to the sound of your bedroom door creaking open. Rafe’s silhouette fills the doorway, backlit by the dim hall light. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, breathing hard, like walking into your room was the hardest thing he’s done all day.

You sit up. “Rafe?”

He steps inside and shuts the door behind him. His hands are shaking.

“I couldn’t be alone,” he says quietly, like he’s ashamed of it. “I—I needed…”

He doesn’t finish. His voice catches and dies in his throat. You pull back the covers, wordless, and he climbs into your bed like he’s sinking into something safe. The second his body touches yours, he grabs you—arms around your waist, face buried in your chest, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

He’s trembling.

“I think I’m losing my mind,” he whispers into your shoulder. “Like… really losing it this time.”

Your fingers stroke through his damp hair. “Talk to me.”

He pulls back slightly, eyes searching yours, terrified and exhausted. “I feel like I’m going insane. I don’t sleep, I can’t think. I keep hearing his voice in my head—my dad, telling me I’m weak. That I’m a fucking embarrassment. And…and I’m always the last choice…it’s always Sarah or Rose, hell he even chooses Wheezie over me.”

“But I want him to love me,” he says, voice breaking. “I’ve done shit to get that love—things I hate myself for. And it never mattered. It never made me enough.”

You pull him even closer, you’re lying on your back, he is half laying on top of you now. He fights tears for a second—because that’s what Rafe does when he’s scared—but then he crumbles, all that tension collapsing into full-body sobs.

“I hate myself,” he whispers, gripping your shirt in his fists like it’s the only thing anchoring him. “I hate who I am.”

“No,” you breathe, kissing his temple. “You hate what they did to you. You were never given a chance to just be.”

You feel his tears soaking into your t-shirt, then he murmurs “Please never leave me…it’d kill me…”