ᯓ★ Long distance with Rafe Cameron was probably the most emotionally exhausting thing you’d ever agreed to.

Because Rafe Cameron was not built for distance.

He was built for showing up at your door unannounced at 2AM. For dragging you into his lap mid-conversation because he wanted attention. For touching you constantly just to make sure you were still there.

And now suddenly—

he had to settle for phone calls and grainy FaceTime screens instead.

Which made him absolutely unbearable.

⋆˙⟡ —

“Who’s that?”

You blinked at your phone screen.

“…What?”

“That guy behind you.”

You turned around in your dorm study room to see some random student grabbing coffee near the vending machines.

“Nobody.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes immediately through the screen.

“He looked at you.”

“He literally did not.”

“He did.”

You sighed, already exhausted.

Three states away and somehow he still managed to act territorial.

⋆˙⟡ —

The distance had only been supposed to last eight months.

Rafe stayed in Kildare handling work for Ward while you transferred colleges for your program.

At first both of you acted confident about it.

“We’ll be fine.” “It’s not that long.” “People do this all the time.”

Then reality hit.

⋆˙⟡ —

Rafe got busier.

Calls got shorter. Texts got drier. Sometimes he disappeared for hours because of work meetings or partying with Topper and Kelce.

Meanwhile you spent nights staring at your phone wondering why hearing “goodnight” through a speaker suddenly felt lonelier than sleeping alone ever did before.

⋆˙⟡ —

The fights started small.

“You forgot to call.”

“I said I was busy.”

“You liked some girl’s bikini picture.”

“Oh my God.”

“You hung up first.”

“You were crying!”

And honestly?

The distance made everything worse.

Because you couldn’t tell when he was joking anymore. Couldn’t pull him back after arguments. Couldn’t kiss him into shutting up like before.

Now every disagreement just ended with silence.

⋆˙⟡ —

Tonight was bad.

Really bad.

Rafe had canceled another visit.

Third time this month.

“Baby, I said I’m sorry,” he muttered through the phone while wind noise echoed around him somewhere outside.

“You promised.”

“I know.”

“You always know after.”

Silence.

Then frustration slipped into his voice too.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you here.”

That shut him up instantly.

Your eyes burned while staring at the ceiling of your dorm room.

Because suddenly you felt stupid for even saying it out loud.

Then quieter—

“…I feel like I’m losing you.”

The line stayed silent for a second too long.

And honestly?

That scared you.

Until finally—

“You’re not.”

But he sounded tired saying it.

Not reassuring.

Just exhausted.

⋆˙⟡ —

Two weeks later, you stopped expecting him to visit entirely.

So when someone knocked on your dorm door at nearly midnight—

you almost ignored it.

Until a familiar voice came through the other side.

“Open the damn door.”

Your stomach dropped instantly.

You swung the door open.

And there he was.

Rafe stood in the hallway wearing a hoodie and sweatpants like he’d thrown them on half-asleep, blond hair messy from travel, duffel bag hanging off one shoulder.

For one second neither of you spoke.

Then immediately—

“You cut your hair,” he said accusingly.

You stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s your first sentence?”

“I hated finding out from Instagram.”

Despite everything—

you laughed.

And the second you did, something in Rafe’s expression softened completely.

Like maybe he’d missed hearing that more than he realized.

Then quietly, rougher now—

“C’mere.”

And honestly?

The second he wrapped his arms around you again, the distance finally stopped feeling real.