The knock at your bedroom window was soft but steady. You already knew it was him.

You’d texted Rafe earlier—just a simple “Can we hang out?”—no context, no emojis, just that. He didn’t ask questions. Just told you he’d be there in twenty.

Now he was climbing in, shutting it behind him, brushing off his hoodie. “Hey,” he said quietly, smiling like he always did when he saw you. But that smile faded fast when he actually looked at you.

You were lying in bed, fully dressed, blanket tangled around your legs, just… staring. Eyes red, cheeks still wet. You didn’t even turn your head when he entered.

He froze. “Baby?”

You didn’t answer.

Rafe stepped closer, eyes scanning every inch of you like he was trying to piece together the story without words. “What happened?” he asked, kneeling beside your bed. “Talk to me.”

Still nothing. Just a tiny shake of your head.

He didn’t press. Just crawled onto the mattress and settled behind you, curling around your back, his chest pressed against you, his arm finding its way around your middle. His voice was low, breath warm against your ear. “You don’t have to explain, okay? I’m here.”

You let out a tiny breath. The first sign of life in a while.

“I’ll stay as long as you want. Even if your mom threatens to kill me.”

That made you huff, just a little. He smiled into your shoulder.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours…” he kissed your temple softly, “…you’re not dealing with it alone.”

And for the first time all day, the noise in your chest quieted. Just a little.