Barry’s trailer smelled like stale beer and bad decisions. The air was thick with smoke, the kind that burned your throat and stuck to your clothes. You’d been here more than you’d admit, but this? This was different.

Rafe Cameron stood there, leaning against the counter, shuffling cash in one hand and a blunt in the other. His usual cocky smirk was there, but there was something off about him. His eyes narrowed when he saw you, like he was trying to figure out if you were real.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice smooth but with a bite.

You stepped inside, slamming the door behind you. “Yeah? Same here. What’s up, Cameron? Daddy issues getting to you?”

His smirk twitched but stayed in place, though there was a sharper edge to it now. “Cute.”

Barry, counting bags of coke at the table, barely looked up. “You two wanna keep fighting, do it outside. Some of us have work to do.”

Rafe didn’t break eye contact, his gaze locked on you. He looked off—tired, maybe. Like he hadn’t been sleeping.

You hated it. Because it reminded you of your own reflection every morning.

“Didn’t know you were slumming it with the rest of us, Kook Prince,” you shot back.

That got him. His smirk dropped, and his eyes darkened. “Yeah? And what the fuck are you doing here, Pogue? Didn’t think your kind could afford this.”

You didn’t flinch. “I didn’t know I had to explain myself to you.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t. Just didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to show up.”

You were about to retort when Barry threw a bag of drugs onto the table. “Alright, out. You can flirt somewhere else.”

You and Rafe shot him a look.

“Flirt?” you both said at once, equally disgusted.

Barry grinned. “Yeah, the ‘will they, won’t they’ act is getting old. Now, out.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, we’re done here.”

You walked out, the door slamming behind you, but you could hear Rafe’s footsteps following.

“You really gonna leave without saying goodbye?”

You didn’t turn around. “Not like I’d miss it.”