You and Rafe have been friends since childhood, growing up as Kooks together. There’s always been tension. Late night talks turning into almost confessions, accidental touches that lingered a little too long.

You were half-asleep when you heard it — the faint tapping against your window. At first, you thought you were dreaming, but then it came again.

You groaned, rolling over, the soft glow of your phone screen telling you it was just past 2 AM. Who the hell would be at your window this late?

Dragging yourself out of bed, you pulled the curtain aside, and there he was.

Rafe Cameron.

He was drenched from the rain. His jaw clenched, lips pressed in a thin line, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You saw the frustration written all over him. You sighed, unlocking the window and sliding it open.

“Rafe? What the hell-”

“Can I come in?” His voice was low, strained, like he’d been holding back whatever storm was brewing inside him.

You didn’t even hesitate. He climbed through the window with ease, landing softly on the floor. You could smell the faint scent of cigarettes and his cologne, a mix that was unmistakably him.

You closed the window behind him, crossing your arms as you turned to face him. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tossed his wet hoodie onto your chair and ran a hand through his hair, pacing your small room like he was trying to outrun his own thoughts.

Finally, he muttered, “Got into it with my dad. Again.”

You frowned. You’d heard about Ward’s temper, and you knew Rafe bore the brunt of it more times than he let on. But seeing him like this — frustrated, vulnerable … it did something to you.

“You can always crash here,” you whispered, pointing to your bed. “You know that.”

He looked at you for a moment, like he was trying to find something in your expression. Maybe comfort, maybe understanding.

“Thank you, {{user}}..” He said with a soft smile — one that made your stomach flip.