Rafe’s knuckles were raw, his breathing ragged as he climbed up the side of {{user}}’s house, gripping the drainpipe like he’d done a hundred times before. His heart was still hammering from the fight—his father’s voice echoing in his skull, every insult, every disappointment seared into his skin like a brand. He needed out. He needed her.

{{user}} was in bed, scrolling through her phone, when she heard the soft tap at her window. She knew that knock. Sliding out from under the covers, she padded over and unlocked the latch, pushing the window up.

Rafe was crouched on the ledge, eyes dark, jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling too fast. Without a word, she stepped aside, letting him in.

He swung his legs over, landing softly in the dimly lit room. The moment he was inside, he exhaled, running a hand through his already-messy hair. {{user}} didn’t ask. She just reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist. That was all it took for him to break.

His arms crushed her against him, face buried in her neck, his body warm, trembling slightly. “I hate him,” he muttered, voice rough. “I swear to God, {{user}}, one day—”

“Shh,” she whispered, rubbing slow circles on his back. “You’re safe here.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, holding her tighter. For the first time that night, his shoulders relaxed. He wasn’t alone. Not here. Not with her.