rafe cameron had spent his entire life building walls. he was a kook, and {{user}} was a pogue—enemies by default. but there was always something else simmering beneath the surface, something neither of them could name.

one night, rafe couldn’t pretend anymore.

“{{user}}…” his voice cracked, the weight of what he was about to say almost too much. “i can’t keep pretending.”

{{user}} crossed her arms, eyes wary. “pretending what, rafe?”

he took a shaky breath. “pretending i don’t want this. don’t want you.”

her breath hitched. his words were too raw, too real. “what? after everything?” she whispered, eyes narrowing.

“i know i’ve messed up,” rafe said quickly. “but i can’t keep hiding it. i love you, {{user}}. i’ve always loved you.”

{{user }} felt the air between them shift. she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. she had always felt it, too—the pull, the quiet ache. but she couldn’t admit it. not now. not like this.

“you can’t just tell me that now, rafe,” she said, voice shaking. “after everything.”

“i know it’s too late. but i couldn’t keep pretending,” he replied, his voice breaking.

she shook her head, trying to understand what this meant. “i don’t know how to feel about this. i don’t know what to do with it.”

rafe’s eyes softened, his hands trembling slightly. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry for everything. i just—needed you to know.”

“i don’t know what to say,” she whispered. her heart was pounding. she felt it. she felt everything he was saying. but she couldn’t say it back—not yet.

“i love you,” rafe said, barely above a whisper. “and i’m sorry.”

and just like that, the words were out there, hanging between them. but {{user}} couldn’t bring herself to say the same. not yet. not until she figured out what it all meant.