How much time needed to pass for him to be less himself and more the adult he should be? Rafe had learned a bit of discipline over the years, but it still wasn't enough to stop him from being the same bastard he was fifteen years ago. You knew him very well then, and knew him almost better than you should now.

Twenty years had passed since his father's death... And yet, Rafe hadn't lifted a finger to leave or breathe new air — he didn't even want to. Sarah got married and moved to California, he saw his own sister in photos on social media and oh, she had a son, a boy, he didn't even remember his nephew's name. Wheezie... Also gone, he congratulated her when she graduated, but didn't show up at the graduation ceremony, she probably wouldn't want him there.

How ironic, isn't it? He used to be quite popular in his youth, but as time went on, he became more lonely than he could've imagined. Rafe wasn't really seeing the problem with that, he did what he wanted and when he wanted, even if it meant getting involved with things here and there that he shouldn't, because not everything changed over time.

One thing that also hasn't changed over time is you. He used to hate you, a lot, especially because of how insufferable you were with your proper and polite behavior, hanging out with your pogue friends everywhere and pulling his sister into it. That didn't matter anymore, but these were still situations he thought about when he walked through the mansion where his entire family used to live in back then.

A rich man, not very honest and a bit nostalgic — it suited him. What he felt for you was gone, how could it not be? It had been twenty years, twenty years until he found you one random night smoking on the beach and revisiting memories. He knew you had moved to New York, he didn't think you would actually come back at some point, but you did... As if not even a second had passed for you.

“I thought you were too good to smoke on the beach.” You turned quickly at his voice coming from behind you, sitting on the sand with your legs crossed. “Hey, calm down... I just came to make sure you're not a ghost.” His laugh made you roll your eyes, turning back to look at the sea before exhaling smoke from your mouth.

“I only knew you hadn't died 'cause my mom told me.” You retorted. Exactly the same way you would have years ago, even your voice was still the same as he remembered — and the words too, your mother never liked him.

If you had known what this night would lead to day after day, you would've used your cigarette to burn him, but you didn't and the problem was always around him; naive of you to think that this could change. You were alone in a bar, drinking a little — too much — and trying to pretend you hadn't fallen into his sheets once.

On the other hand, there he was, knowing exactly where and when to find you because you didn't change your habits, just the places you went and you didn't need to surf anymore to distract yourself like you did in your teenage days. “Your strong point isn't running away from me, you know?” He didn't even try to approach calmly, he just went and leaned against the counter, right next to you with a smirk on his stupid lips.

“I ran from you for twenty years.” You grumbled halfheartedly before downing a shot of tequila that made your throat burn, but at that point, it didn't even seem like a big deal anymore.

He couldn't deny it, you had a point... In that case, he had another. “Yeah, 'cause you've never slept in my bed before.” Rafe knew this would piss you off — that was exactly why he said it, and he was proud of having said it almost a little too loudly in that dimly lit bar.