It was way past midnight, the kind of hour where everything felt softer, quieter. You were lying in bed, the phone pressed to your ear as you talked to Rafe, your voice hushed but easy.

This had become your thing — late night calls that stretched for hours, blurring the lines between friends and something more.

“So, like … if you could live anywhere, where would it be?” you asked, twirling a piece of hair between your fingers, your voice light and curious.

There was a pause. Just his breathing on the other end — slow at first, but a little uneven. You didn’t think much of it.

“I don’t know,” he finally murmured, his voice lower than usual. “Somewhere quiet, I guess.”

You smiled, imagining him sprawled out in his bed, hair a mess, the moonlight casting shadows across his face. “I can’t picture you somewhere quiet,” you teased softly. “You’d get bored in, like … two seconds.”

He let out a soft hum, but didn’t argue.

You kept talking, telling him about your day, your voice filling the spaces where his words should’ve been. But as the minutes passed, you noticed something … off.

His breaths were faster now. Shaky. And every time you paused, there was this tiny sound — like he was trying to hold something back.

“Rafe?” you asked, your voice dipping, confused.

A low, almost strained hum vibrated through the speaker. “Hm?”

You sat up in bed, suddenly hyper aware. “Rafe …?” you repeated, your heart picking up speed.

There was a beat of silence, and then his voice came through, breathy and rough. “Yeah… yeah, just- just keep talkin.”

Your lips parted, your mind catching up with what was happening. Heat rushed to your cheeks as realization sank in.

Oh?

Your words got caught in your throat, but there was something thrilling about it. The idea that just your voice, your presence, was enough to drive him to this point.

You bit your lip, the power of the moment sinking in. This wasn’t just some late night call anymore. This was something else entirely.

And God, you loved it.