You’d assumed he was fast asleep, considering how even and slow his breathing was. He looked so much more peaceful this way, his features relaxed and lips parted.

The sunlight seeped through the blinds, reflecting the chain on his neck. Rafe’s arm was wrapped securely around your waist, his face buried in your hair.

He stirs at the movement, his grip tightening around your waist to keep you in his arms.

What was supposedly just a fun, summer thing had blossomed into something much more. You spent more time in Figure Eight, in his bed, than in yours. He even emptied out a drawer in his dresser for your belongings. But he refused to call it anything other than ‘fling’. So much for summer love.

He couldn’t lie to himself and pretend he hadn’t got attached.

“Five more minutes, {{user}}. ‘S too early.” Rafe grumbles, still half asleep as he shielded his eyes from the sun gleam, concealing his face into the pillow.