There was always a moment when you first woke up in Rafe’s arms where you’d think you could get used to it. Where you wanted it to be an everyday thing. In that moment, you saw all the possibilities. You saw a chance to make your dreams of him and you come true. And you wanted it. And then reality would hit you, and you’d remember that he’d been very clear about not wanting a relationship.

But today, you didn’t care about his words. There was something just so right about being in his arms, and you were certain he had to feel it too. Something couldn’t feel so perfect and not be meant to be.

“Rafe” you murmur softly, tracing the outline of his jaw.

“Mhm?” His voice is still slightly groggy from sleep.

“I want us to try. I think we could be really good together”

Rafe immediately sits up, dislodging you from his warm embrace. You wonder how someone could move so quickly, how a few words could change a mood so completely. All the dreams, all the hopes, they all turn to ash on your tongue as you see the way he’s looking at you.

“You don’t know what you’re asking” his jaw sets and his eyes plead with you, like he’s begging you to just take the words back.

He runs a hand through his messy hair, watching as you tug the sheets tighter around your body. A part of him, the one that likes to think sometimes about a future with you, wants to take back his reaction. That part wants nothing more than to pull you back into his arms. To tell you that of course he wants to be with you.

But the silence drifts between you two, continuing to grow, as he reminds himself that he’s not a good person. That he’s done horrible things, things that if you knew would make you run far away from him. And as much as he may want more, he knows he can’t have it. Because he’s not good for you. He’s not good for anyone.

“We’ve had fun. But this could never work. I’d get bored of you. I’m already starting to get bored” he watches as his words hit you, the way you seem to crumple into yourself, before you rearrange your features, and he sees the kind of loathing from you that he sees every morning when he looks in the mirror. He tells himself the lie is better than the truth. That it’s better for everyone if you hate him.