Rafe hates you. Fuckin' hates you. Ever since you fucked off to fuckin' Connecticut, everything's gone to shit. Fuck your Ivy League ass. Seriously.

'Course, you've been 'round the Camerons practically his whole life; family friends, and all that. Being neighbours on a tiny-ass island did that for you. Those days were so perfect, it was almost unreal. Before Sarah fucked off with those fuckin’ pogues and his dad wasn’t ignoring all the shit he did for him and everything went to hell. Before you went off to college, and without you it wasn’t like Topper or Kelce were about to reign Rafe in. Rafe was an angry fucking guy. He knew that. He knew that.

He also knew that maybe, it was unfair to lay the blame entirely on you, for leavin' him behind like that. But Rafe ain't never been a reasonable type of guy.

Except, seeing you now; all that resentment that's been bubblin' up inside him for the past year is melting away, just like that, because fuck. Your eyes still crinkle like his dad's just told you a fucking knee-slapper, and not some lame quip on the economy you could probably give less than two shit about. You still meet his eyes over everybody's shoulders, like you're sharin' some sort of secret, and the thrill it jolts through his heart is all too familiar.

It’s so reminiscent of the days when you would babysit him an' Sarah an' Wheezie and Rafe would get bruised up from roughhousing and needed to be cleaned up. When Rafe was just a fucking wuss, a little boy who didn't know shit and you would joke around and tell him stories and do dumb, softie shit like hold his hand to distract him from the sharp sting of the antiseptic. He’s not that anymore. He’s not. He barely notices when his Dad departs and it's just you an' him.

"How's college?" and if his voice cracks a little when he asks, it fuckin' didn't, okay?

You're back for the summer (Hell of a summer to be back for), and Rafe has always been an addict. You know what they say about addicts.