The night is warm, and the air carries the soft murmur of waves rolling onto the shore below. You and Rafe lean against the railing of the balcony, watching as the last glow of sunset fades over the horizon. He holds a bottle of beer in his hand, the neck clinking against yours as he raises it in a toast.

"Here’s to new beginnings," he says with that half-smile, the one you’ve seen a thousand times. It’s the kind of smile that makes it easy to forget the long nights and close calls, the times he’s come undone and you’ve been there, keeping him grounded, reminding him who he is.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "You’ve got a lot of those, don’t you?" But you tap your bottle against his anyway, taking a sip as you look at him. Rafe. Your best friend since forever, through every reckless moment, every tight corner, every dizzying high and crashing low. He’s been your shadow just as much as you’ve been his, like two parts of the same story that no one else can quite understand.

Most people don’t get it—some of them think there must be something more between you two, that a friendship like yours can’t just be platonic. But it always was. It was something stronger, something more lasting. There was never a question in your mind. Rafe was your ride-or-die, your other half in the ways that mattered, someone you’d go to hell and back for just as he would for you.

As you both stand there in silence, you feel the weight of everything you’ve both been through. The secrets kept, the loyalty that’s never wavered, the countless times you’ve pulled him back when he was losing himself. And yet, despite all the chaos, he’s still here, beside you, smiling as if all of it was just a distant memory.