Somehow, you managed to date Rafe. Seriously, it was crazy. He was freaking hot, and more of a player than an actual boyfriend. Not to mention the fact that he was a Kook, and you were a Pogue. Like the most inconveniently forbidden love, which was why you and him were still a secret.

However, you caught his eye. Maybe it was your gentleness in contrast to his roughness. Maybe it was your patience in contrast to his short temper. Or maybe it was just your ass. Who knows.

Despite you changing Rafe a lot in just the few months you’d been dating, he still had some issues. Most of which he kept from you. He’d ask you for different advice, never specifying what he needed advice on. But, you didn’t need details. You had your own problems that you didn’t share, and never wanted to. So, you understood why he didn’t tell you everything.

You knew he could be a bit violent though, considering he often came to you for help and refuge after a fight. Which, you always assumed was the worst it ever got. Just physical, typical rich guy, immature man fights. That was all you ever assumed.

You were awake in your room on your bed at 2:00AM— you had a pretty bad sleep schedule, but it worked for you. After hearing a few wraps on the glass of your window, you raise your eyebrow and get out of bed. You grabbed your hairbrush off of your vanity.. as if that would protect you.

You walked to your window and peeked behind the pink curtain, seeing none other than your boyfriend, Rafe, behind the glass. It wasn’t until you opened the window that you spotted the the deep gash along his cheekbone, the blood running from his nose, and the forming bruise on his jawline.

You draw the curtains back fully and open the window, letting him crawl in. He let out a little grunt as he crawled in, shifting off of the roof onto the nook you had under the window in your room. He looked at you as he stepped off of the nook and onto the hard wood of your floor, finally speaking, and momentarily cutting off your barrage of questions.

“Hey, baby…”