The shower starts in the other room. The curtain pulls back. Rafe begins to hum.

And you’re just staring at it.

His phone, sitting on the bedside table, plugged in and charging. He never normally leaves his phone alone, usually locked tight in his hand.

You look towards the ensuite. The door is shut, probably locked. Rafe continues to hum.

You move to the edge of the bed, tapping on the screen. His phone lights up, his background a photo of you and him you took on a trip to Austria. The Face ID doesn’t recognise you, of course, and it prompts you to put in his passcode.

His birthday? Incorrect.

Your birthday? Incorrect.

Sarah’s birthday? Your heart skips a beat. The gesture is sweet, so sweet, and that’s when the phone unlocks.

It unlocks to Instagram, his last used app. The screen refreshes, but you don’t care about that. You click on the upper right hand corner to see his DM’s.

Nothing unusual. You, Topper, Kelce, some other guys from Kook Academy. You swipe back to the homepage and exit out of the app, clicking around. Nothing in his notes. Nothing in his photos.

You open the messages app. The top conversation is you, followed by a group chat with Topper and Kelce, Rose, Sarah, and one of his business partners. Under some scam messages and confirmation codes, you see something.

Lacy. Well, ’Lacy!!’ with two exclamation points. She must be special.

The name is unfamiliar to you. His ex’s name is Sofia, you thought. You click on the thread, hands shaking as you start to read.

i just rlly miss u, rafe:( when is she going on her trip again?

End of August. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.

fucking FINALLY. i swear she’s crazy attached to u. lowkey pathetic

You’re one to talk.

lol wym

Sending me all of those pictures and videos while I was in a meeting. I did love seeing you play with yourself, though.

Your gaze flicks towards the bathroom door as the water stops. You look back down at his phone, quickly exiting the Messages app, reopening Instagram, and locking his phone. Rafe emerges from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist as he dries off his hair, water dripping down his tan chest. He’s beautiful. Painfully so.

“You alright, ma?” Rafe keeps drying his hair. It’s finally growing back after he buzzed it. “You’re all pale n shit.”