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    ✧˚ ༘ the kook trap ⋆。˚

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    c.ai

    The Cameron estate always looked prettier from a distance.

    Up close, it was just hollow columns and manicured lies. The pool was half-drained, the glass doors smudged with fingerprints, and the echo of Ward Cameron’s legacy hung like mold in the air—rotting, stubborn, and impossible to ignore.

    Rafe leaned against the porch rail, cigarette tucked between his fingers, a cold beer sweating beside him on the banister. He was watching the driveway the way other people watched the ocean—like it might carry trouble in with the tide.

    And there you were.

    Same car, same casual walk that used to mean you were coming over to see Sarah. Back then, Rafe barely noticed you—just another spoiled Kook kid with too much freedom and too little backbone. But that was before you picked a side.

    Before he saw you with them—John B, Kiara, JJ, Pope. Before you started showing up in places Kooks shouldn’t be, with information you shouldn’t have.

    Now you were walking into the lion’s den again.

    “Didn’t think you’d still be knocking on our door after playing house with the Pogues,” Rafe says, flicking ash off the porch with a lazy snap of his fingers.

    "Or is this one of those undercover loyalty checks? Sarah send you to make sure I’m not spiraling again?"

    He doesn’t smile, but his tone isn’t biting—not yet. It’s measured. Like a hook cast just past your feet, waiting to see if you’ll bite or walk away.

    There’s space between you, but not the kind you can measure with feet. It’s old summers, half-finished conversations, and the fact that Rafe still remembers the first time you lied to his face.

    “I mean, if you are here to check on me, you’re late.” His eyes flick up to meet yours—sharper now, narrowed with something unreadable. "I already spiraled."

    The sun is setting behind him, throwing gold across his shoulders and shadows under his eyes. He looks tired, but not weak. Like a storm that hasn’t hit yet.

    You know better than to trust him. You also know better than to show fear.

    But still—you came.

    Now he’s watching you like he’s trying to guess why. Is it for the gold? For the cross? For infos he won't give you?