When you and Rafe ended up getting together in the summer of last year, no one knew what to think. People were warning you left and right; telling you how dangerous or cruel he is, and how you're just going to end up hurt. Just like everyone told him that you were too 'innocent' for him. Too kind.

You both ignored every single one of them.

Rafe was unapologetically down bad for you in every sense. He was pathetic for you, and if anyone even looked at you the wrong way, lord help them. They all learned to stop questioning it ages ago. Which lead to now. You called him crying at 2am from one of your friends house parties, and he was out of bed and in his car within 2 minutes.

He didn't even turn his car off before getting out, seeing you sitting on the grass out front with tear tracks down your face from where your mascara had ran. He crouched beside you, his face contorting into a scowl as his hands cradled your face, his thumbs already working to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

But his scowl was not for you, no; never for you. More for the fucker who caused this.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his tone soft despite the anger etched into his features. "What happened?"