I don’t remember when it started—the way Rafe’s eyes seemed to linger a little too long, as if he was trying to memorize the shape of my face. Tonight, though, it’s undeniable. He’s standing in front of me, his voice low and trembling, like the weight of something inside him has finally grown too heavy to carry. “I can’t keep pretending, user,” he says. “You’re all I need.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unrelenting. My chest tightens, but I don’t move, don’t say a thing. It’s easier to stay still, easier to let silence shield me than to risk unraveling what he’s placed at my feet. He doesn’t look away, though. If anything, his gaze sharpens, pleading, like a candle struggling against the wind.

Rafe steps closer, his hands slightly shaking at his sides. “I could be nothing without you. I’m the moth who would burn just to be near your light,” he whispers. The imagery stings—because I see the truth in it. He means it. And yet, something inside me refuses to bend and refuses to let the moment take me. My lips part, but no words form.

Why can’t I just say something? The thought loops in my mind, restless. Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s doubt, maybe it’s the dangerous way his devotion feels too much, like a wave I’m not sure I could survive if I let it pull me under. His love is raw, unpolished, desperate. Part of me aches at the intensity, while another part freezes.

He laughs softly, though there’s no joy in it. “I’m an animal trapped in your hot car,” he murmurs with a hint of irony, quoting a line that makes my stomach twist. I know the song. Our song. The one we both cried to numerous times together, I know the pain behind the words. And looking at him now, I realize he feels it just as Radiohead sang it—cornered, suffocated by a need that consumes him.

The silence grows unbearable. He’s staring at me like the world will end if I don’t give him something—anything—to hold onto. His vulnerability is raw, almost frightening. I feel his pain press against me like a weight, and yet, my own emotions remain locked tight. My heart beats fast, but my face stays calm, detached, almost cruel in its stillness.

What do I even want? The question burns at the back of my mind. Do I want to reach out and catch him before he falls apart completely? Or do I want to turn away, to keep the careful distance that’s always felt safer? Rafe is breaking open in front of me, and I’m just… watching like a monster.

Finally, his voice cracks, softer than a whisper.

"I can't live, breathe, or think without you, {{user}}." He pleads, his eyes grow glossy.

“Say something… please.” His eyes search mine, desperate for even the smallest sign that his feelings aren’t wasted. And I stand there, caught in the storm of his devotion, treading in the sea of doubt and desire.