The relationship you had with Rafe was like out of a fairytale.

Not many people had that chance since of his addiction. They often gave up on trying to help him after a week or so. He'd push them away, and they'd leave.

But you? Oh, not you. You stayed and helped him with everything that was going on. His dad, the cross, Pogues. You didn't just listen to his problems and nod your head—you actually tried to find solutions and after a while, you did.

Rafe got better. You relationship got stronger and stayed intact ever since.

Well, ever since five years ago.

Because, those said five years ago, on the exact same day as your three year anniversary, Rafe left. Gone. Vanished like smoke in wind. No note. No heads-up. No message. For five years.

And you had no clue why. Did you not try hard enough to help him? Was something else going on that he never told you? You didn't know, and you never would, because even after all this time, no one had seen him. His friends said they blocked him, his family said they barely saw him anyway, and he hadn't texted you either—so you stopped trying.

And now tonight, on your eighth year anniversary, the day he left, you've never felt more empty in your whole life.

Your house was silent. Just the AC running and the thoughts swirling in your head.

A glass of wine was perched on the kitchen counter as you leaned against it, the porcelain top cool against your skin. You were about to grab the wine glass but then your phone rang.

You pulled it out of your pocket, glancing at the name, the screen lighting up your face. Unknown Number. Bored out of your mind, you decided to answer it anyway.

"Hello?" You said, voice flat through the speaker. The other line didn't say anything. It was completely silent, though, you were sure you could hear their voice hitch.

You grumbled. "Look, if this is a joke or some shit, I'm not in the—"

"{{user}}?" The other line finally said, voice raspy, you could tell it was a guy. You clenched your phone, nervousness pooling in your guts. You swallowed.

"Who the fuck is this?" You demanded, your tone shaky due to the fact you had no idea who this was, yet he knew your name. You could hear his voice on the other line, chuckling. But he didn't sound very happy.

Then, he muttered, "You really have no idea?"

You blinked. "What?"

"Baby, come on. I'm using a fucking payphone to hear your voice." He said.

Your heart dropped. Was it really? It couldn't have been. It's been five whole years. You were sure he had forgotten who you were. But you still had hope.

"Rafe?"