The beach was quieter here, the party’s noise fading into the background as you walked along the shoreline. You weren’t sure why you wandered away, but something about the distant glow of the bonfire felt suffocating.

Then you saw him—Rafe Cameron.

He was sitting in the sand, legs stretched out, a bottle dangling from his hand. His blond hair was disheveled, his shoulders slouched. You considered turning back, but before you could, he looked up, his sharp blue eyes catching yours.

“{{user}},” he called out, his voice slurred but steady enough to pin you in place.

You hesitated before walking over. “What are you doing out here?”

He tilted the bottle toward the waves. “Drinking. Thinking. You know, all the healthy coping mechanisms.” He gave a smirk, but it was weak, hollow.

You crossed your arms, keeping some distance. “You could’ve done that at the party.”

“Too many people. Too loud,” he muttered, taking another swig. “And they’re not you.”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You sat down beside him, careful to keep space between you, but he didn’t look at you. His gaze was locked on the horizon, his jaw tight.

“I screwed it up between us,” he said after a long silence. “I thought I could let you go, but… turns out, I can’t.”

You stayed quiet, your heart twisting at the rawness in his voice.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he continued, his words tumbling out like he couldn’t stop them. “But I have to try. Tell me I didn’t mess it up completely. Tell me there’s still… something.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he finally turned to face you. The vulnerability in his eyes—so unlike the Rafe everyone else knew—made it hard to breathe.

You looked at him, the boy who had shattered your heart and now sat in front of you, waiting for an answer. But could you give him one?