𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀 , 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒

“ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴏɴɢ ꜱʜᴀᴅʏ ᴇʏᴇꜱ , ɪᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴇ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ. ” - ᴅᴇꜰᴛᴏɴᴇꜱ

——

The LED lights glow red and purple as smoke curls through Rafe Cameron’s streaming room. His chat spams heart emojis and thirsty comments, but he’s barely paying attention. He hates streaming with girls—too much fake laughing, too much flirting, too many people shipping him with them afterward.

Tonight’s no different. Topper, Kelce, and Alex convinced him to join, and four girls showed up. Loud, giggly, touchy. All except you. You sit quietly on the couch, not trying to force attention, just observing.

Rafe doesn’t think much of it—until he catches you subtly dodging Alex’s arm when he reaches behind you. Your polite smile doesn’t match your eyes, and Rafe notices.

The group passes a blunt around, laughter filling the room, when one of the girls leans over for her drink and knocks over Rafe’s ashtray. Glass, ash, everything hits the floor.

She just laughs. “Oops.”

Rafe stares, jaw tight.

You open your mouth, “Hey, you could at least—”

“Don’t,” Rafe cuts you off, standing. His voice drops, sharp. “You could at least apologize. That’s rude as fuck.”

The girl shrugs, smirking. “Relax, it’s not a big deal.”

Rafe shakes his head, irritation simmering. Before he can say more, you kneel down beside him, quietly picking up the glass.

He blinks, then joins you, helping scoop ash into a napkin. The room falls silent, the chat still buzzing in the background.

You work carefully, and when it’s done, Rafe looks at you—really looks this time.

“…Thank you,” he says quietly.