The Thornton house buzzed with the usual chaos, but you stayed locked in your room, the world outside feeling miles away. It was summer—your favorite season—but nothing about it felt right. Your oversized sweatshirt clung to you like armor, hiding everything you couldn’t stand about yourself.

Rafe noticed before anyone else. You weren’t at the pool, the bonfires, or anywhere you usually were. For weeks, you’d slipped further into the background, and he hated it. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much—maybe because you were Topper’s little sister, maybe because he knew what it felt like to hate yourself.

That afternoon, Rafe knocked softly before pushing your door open. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your hands. “Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside. “Why are you shutting everyone out?”

You didn’t look up. “You wouldn’t get it, Rafe,” you muttered, your voice cracking. You tugged at your sleeves, but it was too late—he’d already seen the faint, fresh lines on your arm.

“What the fuck is that?” His voice broke, anger mixing with something softer, something scared. He moved closer, crouching in front of you. “{{user}}, why would you do this to yourself?”

Tears spilled over as you yanked your arm back. “Because I hate myself, okay? I hate how I look, how I am. I’ll never be enough for anyone.”

Rafe’s face fell, his jaw tightening as he reached for your hand. “Don’t say that,” he said firmly, his voice trembling. “You’re enough. You’re so much more than you think.”

You shook your head, but Rafe didn’t let go. “I don’t care how hard this gets—I’m not leaving you alone in it. Ever.”

And for the first time in weeks, you believed someone might actually mean it.