It's all different now.

You spend your days with friends. At the beach, shopping or just hanging out at each other's houses. Sometimes you go partying and let loose. And sometimes you just lay in bed watching a movie.

You enjoy yourself. It feels like you're more free.

Rafe on the other hand .. ooh.

He hangs out at clubs. All day, every day. He drinks non stop, empty bottles of beer left on the floors of wherever he stepped. And if he was at home, he slept or smoked. He hated it. He was worse without you.

Around six months ago, you and Rafe had a bad argument. Holes in the walls, glass breaking and tears falling. You had enough. You decided to leave Rafe for good. So you packed your things and left.

He always had been obsessed and possessive of you — not letting you do what you wanted. You never left, believing this hell hole would end. Less arguments and fights. But you were wrong.

You thought it was for the better to leave.

Well, the six months of being apart — you were better. Rafe was just terrible.

So, one night, Rafe wanted to change things. He downed the last of his beer and exited the club. He stumbled down the streets, all the way to Figure Eight. To your house. He occasionally bumped into other kooks — most of them too frightened to yell at him — and didn't even apologise or acknowledge them

You, however, were enjoying your night at home. A movie playing on the living room TV while you made a little snack in the kitchen. It was silent, peaceful. Till a knock was heard at your door.

You glanced at the clock. 10:53 PM. Who would be at your house this late?

You set down the knife and walked down the hall, to the front door. You unlocked it and swung it open, seeing him. He looked miserable.

Shirt unbuttoned, hair disheveled and messed up and his eyes were bloodshot. He had a tired look on his face, maybe a hint of vulnerability? No. Rafe Cameron is never vulnerable.

"Baby," He murmured. "Please, take me back."

Or maybe in this moment he was.