The cold air bit at your skin as you walked across the roads of Figure Eight. You hugged yourself as you finally reached Tannyhill plantation.

Walking up the driveway — sweatpants hanging loose on your hips, sneakers you didn't bother tying and a jumper you stole from him — you step up onto the porch and knock on the door. The front light flickered on moments before Rafe opened the door.

He wore grey sweatpants, no shirt, showing off his toned body. His hair was messy and tousled, like he's been running his hands through it too much. He looked at you, not surprised you're here.

You and Rafe could never sleep. It troubled you both. So, by midnight every night, one of you would show up at each other's house and hang out till the sun rose, doing random things.

"You ever gonna give that back?" He asks, nodding his head towards the black hoodie you were wearing. You looked up at him and grinned. "You want it back?" Rafe shakes his head and steps out the way, letting you inside with a hand on your shoulder.

"Nah, it looks better on you." He says as he shuts the front door, locking it. The house was quiet. Sarah was with the pogues, Rose took Wheezie somewhere and well, Ward was dead. You both were silent the whole way upstairs, your hand ghosting over the railing.

You both reached Rafe's room. You walked inside and slid off your shoes, laying down in his bed like it was your own — the comfort of his space immediately enveloping you. He shut the door and walked over to you, stopping just before your sneakers.

He looked down at them and rolled his eyes. "You just sleeping here?" He mutters as he kicks your shoes off to the side lays down beside you. He picked up a cigarette and lit it, inhaling the smoke before blowing it in your direction.

You swatted the smoke away and smirked. "I'll see. Maybe, maybe not."

Rafe rolled his eyes and continued to smoke, blowing it in your direction. He didn't know why, but he always let you in. No matter how annoying you are, he always will.

Maybe he likes you, maybe not.