He had been saying no for weeks.

Every time you brought it up — eyes wide, voice soft, asking if maybe this time he’d let you try — Rafe shut it down. “Not happening,” he’d say, raking a hand through his hair. “You don’t need that shit in your head.”

But this time, when you said it — quiet and a little stubborn — “If you don’t want to do it with me, I’ll just do it with the Pogues instead,” something in him snapped.

Now here you were, tucked into the corner of his bedroom, lights low, his hoodie hanging off your frame, and his hand resting warm and heavy on your thigh as he explained everything — every single thing — like it was gospel.

“Okay, listen to me,” he said, voice low and soft as his fingers traced little circles on your leg. “This isn’t like drinking, alright? You might feel it hit fast, or it might take a while. Everyone’s different. Just… stay close to me.”

You nodded, curled up beside him on the bed, knees tucked under your chest.

He picked up the blunt, already rolled, and looked at you with eyes that weren’t teasing for once — just serious, protective. “You don’t take a big hit. Just a small one. You hold it in for a second and breathe it out slow. That’s it.”

You nodded again, but he caught your wrist gently and said, “No, baby — look at me.”

Your eyes met his. And for the first time all day, his features softened.

“I’ll take care of you, yeah?” he said. “If anything feels weird, you tell me. Don’t try to act fine. I need to know.”

You swallowed, lips twitching into a shy smile. “You’re really nervous, huh?”

“I’m not nervous,” he grumbled, clearly lying. “I just… I’ve never done this with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Innocent,” he said, eyes flickering to your mouth. “You trust too easy. You love too hard. That’s not something I wanna fuck with.”

Your heart thudded.

You let the words settle before nudging his arm. “But you’re doing it anyway.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, handed you the blunt, and watched like his whole world depended on it as you brought it to your lips.

He lit it for you.

Your first inhale was cautious. You coughed, of course — eyes watery, nose scrunched — and he immediately reached for your water bottle and rubbed your back with careful, soothing strokes.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you croaked.

He smiled. “Told you you’d cough.”

You leaned into his side, and as the minutes passed and the world started to feel a little softer, a little slower, Rafe wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close — your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady against your cheek.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “You’re safe with me.”