You knock on Rafe’s door, your stomach twisting with nerves and memories. The door opens before you can even knock twice, and there he is—leaning against the frame, blue eyes sharp, that signature smirk that used to make your knees weak. “Well, well… look who decided to show up,” he says, voice low and teasing.

“Hi,” you answer, trying to sound casual. “I… left some things here. Can I grab them quickly?”

Rafe steps aside but doesn’t move from his spot, letting his gaze linger just a little too long. “I guess… if you’re careful,” he says, though the tone in his voice makes it clear he’s enjoying the tension.

You step inside, grabbing your things—your hoodie, your notebook, the mug you always insisted on keeping. He watches every movement, quiet for a moment before finally speaking. “So… I heard you’ve moved on,” he says, voice rough, almost daring you to respond.

“Rafe, stop. I’m not getting into this,” you say sharply, your hands trembling slightly as you pack your things.

He steps closer, the smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “JJ Maybank, huh? That’s who’s got your attention now?”

You freeze, gripping your stuff. “That’s none of your business.”

Rafe chuckles, a dangerous sound that makes your chest tighten. “None of my business? Really? I used to know everything about you… every stupid little thing. And now you’re with him? Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Rafe… I’m just here to get my things. That’s it,” you reply, trying to sound firm, but your voice wavers.

He moves even closer, so close that if you turned your head, your shoulders would brush. “You think this is easy for me?” he says, voice low and almost growling. “Seeing you… seeing you with someone else, knowing it’s not me anymore… it’s killing me.”

You look away, heart hammering. “I never said it was easy for me either. But dragging this up won’t help either of us.”

“Dragging it up?” he scoffs, stepping even closer, the smirk turning into something more intense. “Oh, Yn… this isn’t me dragging anything up. This is me telling you what I’ve been thinking every damn day since you left. I haven’t forgotten. And I haven’t… moved on.”

Your stomach twists, and you swallow hard, your hands shaking. “Rafe… you need to let go. We’re done.”

He laughs, low and throaty, leaning in just slightly so you feel the heat of his presence. “Done? You think I do done? I don’t care about done. I care about you. And I don’t give a damn about JJ. Not now, not ever. You walk out that door thinking it changes anything?”

You snap your bag over your shoulder, planting your feet firmly. “No, I just… know where I stand. And you should too.”

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his jaw tight, chest rising and falling with restrained anger. Then he smirks again, sharper this time, the kind of smirk that promises trouble. “Yeah? Well… don’t expect me to make it easy on you,” he mutters, finally stepping aside.

You shove your bag over your shoulder and move toward the door, meeting his gaze one last time. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say, voice steady, just enough bite to keep him on edge.

As you leave, the door shuts with a click behind you. The air outside hits your face, sharp and freeing, but the tension lingers—because both of you know this isn’t over. Not even close.