A couple weeks ago you and rafe hooked up at a party. You were a pogue and he wanted to keep his status, so it became and open relationship that was secret. Except rafe started to seriously enjoy your company. You were understanding and comforting, you didn’t judge him quickly, you helped him through breakdowns. He didn’t know how you were so used to breakdowns like his, especially psychotic ones, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

One thing he knew you hated was his cocaine addiction, but it wasn’t easy to stop. It was actually the most difficult thing he could think of.

Rafe hated seeing you with other people, other men especially. He’d go as far as putting a bullet through there heads if he could. But you weren’t his, it was an open relationship. He could sleep and see other people, you could do the same. Which you didn’t, that made him hope for a real relationship with you.

You were both invited to the same party, you went separately of course. You and rafe pretended to hate each other per usual, and you went dancing and he was doing lines of cocaine with his friends while drinking alcohol.

You woke up the next morning in rafes bed wearing a lace bra and underwear, rafe was up getting changed.

“I’ve been thinking, I don’t want to do this thing anymore” he said.

His heart was racing, he was shirtless and had stopped looking through a drawer to find so that he could look at you.

“I want all of you. The carzy you, the perfect you, the flawed you. All of it.” He was so sincere.