Rafe’s room was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan. The two of you lay tangled on his bed, the dim lamp casting a warm glow across his jawline as he kissed you softly at first… then deeper, like he’d missed you all day.

Five months together, and he still kissed you like he was discovering something new.

You felt his hand slide under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin—

And you froze.

Not a flinch. Not a hesitation.

A full stop.

Rafe pulled back immediately. His chest rose and fell a little faster than before, and his brows drew together as he studied your face.

“Y/N… hey,” he said quietly, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “You went stiff as a board. What’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the blanket.

“It’s nothing. I just— I’m not in the mood.”

Rafe let out a low, frustrated breath, but it wasn’t anger — it was confusion, maybe even worry.

“You’ve said that for five months,” he said, sitting back against the headboard. “Every time I try to get close, you shut down. I’m not mad, but…” His voice dipped. “I don’t get it. Did I do something?”

Your heart punched against your ribs. This was exactly the moment you’d been avoiding.

“No,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at you like he was trying to read the parts of you you’d never shown him. “Then what is it? I can’t fix something if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I’m scared.”

Rafe’s expression softened instantly. “Scared? Of me?”

“No,” you said quickly. “Not you. Just… everything.”

You twisted your fingers together, hands shaking.

“I’ve never… done anything. With anyone.” Your voice was barely audible.

Silence.

Not cold. Not tense.

Just surprised.

Rafe blinked, the confusion fading as something gentler replaced it. “That’s why you kept stopping me?”

You nodded, cheeks warm. “I didn’t want you to think I was childish. Or inexperienced. Or— I don’t know. I was scared you’d get bored and leave.”

Rafe scooted closer until his knee touched yours. “Y/N,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I’m with you because I like you. Not because of what we do or don’t do.”

He lifted your chin so you’d look at him.

“You could’ve told me,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes stung, and Rafe pulled you into his chest without waiting for you to break. His hand rested on your back, not pushing, not expecting — just holding.

“We’ll go at your pace,” he said into your hair. “Or we don’t have to go anywhere at all until you want to. I just need you to talk to me.”

You exhaled, every knot in your stomach slowly loosening.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He kissed the top of your head — not hungry, not rushed — just gentle.

For the first time, you didn’t feel scared.

You felt safe.