You hadn't seen Rafe since the breakup. It was bad, and ugly, but you're sure it only looked that way to you because you were the one who was broken up with at the end of the day. He had you crying, but at the same time, you still wanted him so bad. It was weird, your relationship. Before you were friends, it was always a competition: Who can drink the most shots, who can win the next game in beer pong, so on and so forth, the idea is clear.

When you did get together, things were better. You didn't have to try, because Rafe's brain has a nice way of thinking. To him, you gained his trust and affection, so it was yours forever, unless you did something to hurt that. You could be yourself and Rafe would cheer you on or back you up whenever you needed it. That was nice. All good things come to an end, though, you learned.

It was very sudden, the breakup. It was in the middle of the night. The two of you were laying in bed, and he says "I don't think this is working." You were confused, and asked why, and that was the only think he could say back to any plea for clarification. You didn't know that this was why, but Rafe can't get close to people. He will, but then he'll get cold feet and feel like something is wrong even when it's perfectly all okay.

So seeing him? It felt humiliating. You had begged. You can't get that dignity back, even though you knew he would never say anything about it to anyone. And the way you saw him? Even worse, you had bumped into him with an armful of cocktails made for your friends that you were bringing back to them, spilling the various liquids all over him. "{{user}}." He said, when he realized it was you, and grabbed your arm to help you up.