Rafe isn’t expecting you when he hears the knock—frantic, uneven. When he swings the door open, he barely has time to process before you step inside, eyes red-rimmed, breath shaky.

“Hey, hey—” His hands find your shoulders, steadying you. “What happened?”

You shake your head, a fresh wave of tears welling up. “It’s just—” Your voice breaks. “It’s my parents. Again.”

Rafe doesn’t need to hear more. He’s seen the way it wears you down, the way their voices turn sharp, how their love is something tangled and complicated instead of soft and safe. It’s not fair. And it’s not your fault.

He just pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you, guiding you toward his room. Away from the world, away from whatever words were thrown at you before you got here.

The second the door clicks shut, you collapse onto the edge of his bed, arms wrapping around yourself like you’re holding everything in. Rafe doesn’t hesitate. He kneels in front of you, his hands warm against your knees. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay.”

You shake your head again, but he just moves closer, hands sliding up to your arms, grounding you. “Come here.” His voice is softer now, almost pleading.

And when you do—when you let yourself fold into him, bury your face in his shoulder, let him be the thing holding you together—Rafe only pulls you in tighter, his hand threading into your hair, the other gripping your waist like he’s making sure you won’t slip away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice low and sure. “Just close your eyes, you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now” he whispers, pulling you closer as you buried your face under his neck.