Rafe’s teeth ground together, every muscle in his body pulled tight with rage. His fists were clenched, knuckles white, and his heart was pounding, blood rushing in his ears. This whole thing was spiraling out of control, and it felt like the more you raved, the more everything inside him was ready to explode. His mind was racing, thoughts flying too fast for him to even catch a breath between them.

You’d never seen him like this before. He resembled a rabid dog. Eyes wide, teeth bared like he was about to bite your head off.

“You seriously gonna keep doing this?!” Rafe snapped, voice sharp and cutting through the tension like a knife. His eyes blazed, his breath coming out in uneven bursts. “I’m trying to make sense of this, but you keep throwing shit in my face!” He didn’t care that his voice was rising. The frustration, the anger—he couldn’t control it anymore. Not when everything felt like it was falling apart over something that should’ve been simple.

He paced back and forth, the weight of his frustration pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe. Every part of him wanted to yell, to lash out. His jaw ticked, the muscles in his neck tightening, and he forced himself to take a deep breath—only for his chest to constrict tighter.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, fists clenched tighter. “I’m fucking trying, but you keep pushing me!” He turned toward you, eyes blazing, face flushed with the heat of his anger. “I’m standing here, busting my ass, and this is what I get? Why the hell should I even bother?!”

He couldn’t possibly wait for an answer. He couldn’t. He was too wound up, too angry to listen, and he knew if he didn’t walk away right now, he might say something he couldn’t take back.