It’s three in the morning, the kind of time where you were lying in your cold bed, missing the warmth that was once there.

You missed Rafe.

He had left a few hours ago without a single word, as if he was too cool to vocalize how he was feeling. You were pissed, of course you were—who wouldn’t be?

But like clockwork, he’d left you several messages, missed calls, everything. Just like he always does.

Maybe it was the fact that it was three AM, but when the phone rang, you didn’t hesitate to answer it.

“Hello?” You ask as if you didn’t know who was on the other line. Your voice carried weight, as if strained by a thousand strings pulling you the other way.

“Baby?” Rafe’s voice cuts through the dead silence. “Baby, hey.” He slurs his words as they practically fall out his mouth.

“Are you…high?” You ask, but you already knew the answer, clear as day. He was high, drowning himself and his problems with crack cocaine and god knows what else.

He might just drown you, too.

“Mmh, maybe. {{user}} please come over.” He mumbles into the phone. “I miss you.”

You scoff. “Miss me?” You repeat as if it’s not understandable. “You left without saying a word, Rafe.” You tell him.

“Baby, listen, I know I did. I know I left but I need you here.” He groans from the other line.

You pause, the phone nearly slipping from your hand. You knew when he did this that he never really wanted to see you, he just wanted someone to take the edge off the drugs—as if they didn’t do enough.

“No.” You say sharply, but it’s followed by a heavy sigh. “Why, Rafe? Why do you do this to me?” You ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what?” He asks, his voice almost pleading.

“Why’d you only ever call me when you’re high?”