the party’s long over, and you’re settled in the passenger seat of rafe’s truck, headlights cutting through the darkness as he drives. you’d expected him to take you straight home, but instead, he’s driving aimlessly down empty roads, the silence between you broken only by the soft music playing from the radio. there’s something calm about this moment, an unspoken understanding that neither of you need to fill the silence.

after a few minutes, you glance over at him, catching the way his grip tightens on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. the casual smirk he wore all night is gone, replaced by an expression that’s harder to read. something distant, weighed down. finally, he lets out a sigh, the kind that seems like it’s been building up for a while.

“i swear… sometimes i just feel like i can’t win,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. he’s not looking at you, his eyes focused straight ahead, but you can feel the intensity in his words. “it’s like everyone already has this… idea of who i’m supposed to be. my dad, my friends… even sarah sometimes.” he pauses, his jaw clenching like he’s holding something back. “they don’t actually know me, you know? they just see what they want.”

you stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt. you’ve never heard rafe talk like this before, and the vulnerability in his voice is almost startling.

“it’s exhausting,” he continues, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the wheel. “always trying to live up to what they expect, always feeling like i’m failing them no matter what i do.” he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “you know, sometimes i wonder what would happen if i just… stopped. stopped pretending to be what they want.”

he finally glances over at you, his gaze raw, almost searching, like he’s waiting for you to judge him. but you don’t. you hold his gaze, letting him see that you’re listening, that you’re there.