The music is thumping, lights flickering in a blur of red and blue as you lean against the kitchen counter, solo cup in hand, trying your hardest to look like you’re okay. It’s been two months since you broke up with Rafe. You told him it was because he needed to focus on getting clean, that you couldn’t keep losing yourself in the chaos. But every night since, you’ve felt the ache of his absence settle like concrete in your chest.

And now, he’s here. Across the room. Same dark stare, same magnetic pull — but he’s not looking at you. He’s surrounded by people, nodding, smirking, but his jaw’s tense. You know he saw you walk in.

You don’t even like the guy you’re talking to. He’s just some Kook trying too hard to make you laugh. Still, you let him linger. Maybe Rafe will care.

You laugh a little too loud, toss your hair like you mean it, and when the guy offers his hand, you take it — because you’re dizzy from wanting Rafe to want you back.

But the hallway is too quiet. The bedroom door clicks behind you, and suddenly this feels wrong. The guy’s too close. Too fast. You pull back, trying to keep it playful.

“Hey—slow down,” you say, voice cracking more than you’d like.

“I thought this was the point?” he says, leaning in again.

You open your mouth to answer but—

CRACK.

The door flies open so hard it smashes into the wall, and there he is. Rafe. Chest heaving. Eyes burning. His voice is low, furious.

“You really think you can put your hands on her?”

The guy stumbles back. “Man, it’s not like that—”

“No, shut the fuck up. You don’t even breathe near her again.”

His hand curls into a fist at his side, but his other one’s already reaching for you. He doesn’t touch you yet, not until you nod. Then he pulls you behind him, arm wrapped tight around your waist.

“I leave for two months and this is what happens,” he mutters, jaw clenched.

You can’t speak. You’re shaking — not from fear, but from how safe you feel all of a sudden. You shouldn’t. But you do.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he says, voice gentler now, leaning in close. “You’re coming with me.”