you and rafe have been dating for three years. everyone says it’s toxic, but you never cared. you loved him. you loved the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, even when he was mad. and god, he could get mad. but so could you.

it was one of those nights. you were both yelling. something stupid, something that didn’t even matter — but it turned into a storm. you felt your blood boiling, heart racing, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

you grabbed the first thing you could reach — a glass off the kitchen counter — and threw it across the room. it shattered against the wall.

“you don’t listen to me!” you screamed, voice cracking, tears burning your eyes.

but rafe didn’t yell back. he just stood there, leaning against the doorway, watching you.

you kept going. a picture frame. a plate. the lamp.

“why do you always make me feel like this?!” you cried out, breath ragged, throwing anything you could find, feeling the rage tear through your body.

and still — nothing from him.

you turned, chest heaving, and that’s when you saw it.

he was smiling.

you froze.

his head tilted slightly, and he crossed his arms. “you’re just like me,” he said softly, almost proud.

you didn’t know whether to scream or laugh.

“shut up, rafe!” you shouted, wiping your tears.

he walked towards you slowly. “no,” he said. “look at you. smashing shit. screaming. losing your mind. just like me.”

he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the chaos.

“you think i don’t love that?” he whispered.

you broke then, the fight leaving your body all at once.

“you drive me insane,” you mumbled, leaning into his chest.

“good,” he breathed into your hair. “then we’re even.”

he held you there in the wreckage of broken glass and shattered things, and he smiled. because no matter how crazy it got, no matter how loud the fights or how high the walls you both built, he’d always protect you. always love you.

even if it killed him.