Rafe’s jaw was still clenched when he slammed the door shut behind him ,the same way he always did after one of those fights. Loud, violent, final.

You didn’t flinch.

He hated that you never did.

He paced the room like he was still wound up, fists tight, knuckles red. You stayed where you were ,legs tucked under you on the bed, waiting, calm.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, voice rough.

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like I’m not a complete fucking mess.”

You stayed quiet, but your eyes didn’t move from his. And that always got to him. That look. That patience. That calm you wore like armor.

After a second, he came over. Not storming. Not sharp. Just... quieter. Like he only knew how to fall apart around you.

Rafe sat on the edge of the bed, dragging his palms over his face. “Everyone looks at me like I’m a monster.”

You reached out, soft fingers brushing his knuckles. “You don’t scare me.”

He laughed once, bitter. “I should.”

But he didn’t pull away. He leaned into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.