OUTER BANKS.

He doesn’t understand, not one bit.

Rafe is a violent psychopath, so he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t hate you—a Pogue. And out of all pogues, — a shy one.

“It’s freezing,” he says in a rough, but gentle tone, reserved for you, and you— only. He drapes his warm, black North Face jacket over your delicate shoulders. As if he was afraid if he touched you too roughly, he’d shatter you.

His expression was ever so stoic, yet his tone was a tad softer than usual; “You’ll catch a cold.”

The Boneyard’s music on full blast as everyone gathers around for some drinking game JJ made up.

He tugs the lapels of the jacket, making sure you’re warming up. He’d never admit that you’re his soft spot, though. Never.

He feels accomplished as he sees you accept the jacket. You almost see a crinkle under his eyes— a smile?