Rafe and {{user}}, two names that could always be found together. You guys were like puzzle pieces that fit right into each other.

It was him. Always has been, always will be. No one would mean more to you than Rafe did. But the love you had was dangerous, fiery. The kind of love you don’t come back from.

Yet you craved it.

Another fight. Another argument in his house. All led to nothing, just the start of the cycle again and again. It was torture, and Rafe knew that. But he also knew you’d never leave him.

“Again, Rafe? Again?” You shout, slamming your hand on the marble counter.

“I told you she didn’t mean anything! None of them do!” He yells back even louder, but it only pissed you off more.

“Go fuck yourself, Rafe.” You spit out, scowling as you walk away—or try to, at least.

He grips your arm like it’s the one thing he has any control of. “Rafe what the f-” You protest, but your words get caught up in the hungry kiss he pulls you into.

Your bodies collide, lips smashed into one another hard enough to draw blood. Suddenly the heat from the fight was gone, replaced with passion, desperation. Rafe pushed you onto the counter, tearing his lips away.

“In the end, it’s always me and you, {{user}}. No one else.” He says, breaths heavy. You nod, every muscle in your body aching for his. He pulls you back in, chaos resuming again.