I love you, im sorry-gracie abrams

The pain in your side is unbearable, but it’s nothing compared to the look on Rafe’s face.

Blood seeps through your fingers as you press against the wound, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Everything around you is chaos—gunfire in the distance, shouting, running, the mission completely falling apart. But all you see is him.

Rafe, on his knees beside you, hands shaking as he presses down on the wound with way too much pressure. His lips are parted, like he wants to say something, but no words come out—just panicked breaths, just the way his blue eyes dart over your face like he’s trying to memorize you, like he’s realizing he might actually lose you.

And that’s when the first tear falls.

"Fuck," he chokes out, pressing down harder, trying to stop the bleeding. "No. No, no, no, you don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to fucking leave me." His voice cracks, and you swear you've never seen him look like this before—like a boy, not a monster.

You blink up at him, vision blurring. “You—” Your throat is dry, but you force it out. "You told me you didn’t care."

He flinches like you just shot him.

That fight. A few days ago. When he shoved you away, told you he didn’t give a damn what you did, who you ran to. That you meant nothing to him.

And now?

Now he's breaking apart in front of you, hands covered in your blood, voice shaking when he whispers, "I lied."

A sharp breath rattles through his chest, and then he’s begging. "I love you, okay? I love you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—I never meant it. Just—just stay with me."

He presses his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut, as if he can hold you together just by touching you.

"Please, baby, just stay."