Rafe sat across from Barry, a glass of bourbon resting between his fingers. The weight of his thoughts had been pulling him down for days now, and tonight, he felt the need to unload.

“You know,” Rafe muttered, his voice rough, “Every time {{user}} looks at me with those big, innocent eyes, the only thing I can think about is every shitty thing I’ve ever done. I think… I don’t deserve her kind of love.” His fingers clenched around the glass as the words left his mouth, bitterness creeping into his voice.

“Look, Rafe,” Barry finally spoke, his voice steady. “I don’t know a lot about balancing a state budget or how a bill becomes a law. Hell, I don’t know a lot about a lot of things. But I know this: everybody deserves to be loved.” He leaned forward, locking eyes with Rafe. “Even you.”

Rafe stayed silent, his gaze falling to his glass, contemplating the words. His mind raced with doubt, the toxic cycle of self-loathing he was stuck in. Could he really be the person you deserved? Was there even a chance someone like him could ever be worthy of you?

The sound of his phone vibrating on the table broke his thoughts, but he didn’t bother to look at it. His mind was still focused on the conversation.

Later that evening, Rafe found himself standing at the edge of the beach, watching the waves crash against the sand. His mind was still reeling, but when he turned, he saw you.

Your laughter filled the air as you walked toward him, your presence is the only thing that could calm the storm inside of him. You were everything he had never thought he deserved.

Rafe couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at his lips. His gaze softened as he stepped closer, his hand gently reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m not used to this.” He admits.

“Used to… being seen,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Used to someone like you looking at me like I’m… enough.”

And in that moment, Rafe realized—maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to be perfect to deserve your love.