Rafe Cameron was the kind of boy who burned too bright, too fast. Everyone in the Outer Banks knew that. But {{user}}—she knew the kind of flame he carried inside wasn’t just wild, it was dangerous. She’d seen it flicker behind his blue eyes every night they sat in his truck by the water, the windows down, music humming through the salt air.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he’d said one night, lighting another cigarette. His voice was sharp but low, as if even the stars might judge him.

“Like what?” she asked softly.

“Like you still believe I can change.”

{{user}} smiled sadly, brushing her hair out of her face. “Maybe I just don’t want to stop believing.”

The truth was, she couldn’t. Even when he stumbled out of parties smelling like liquor and smoke, even when he shouted things he didn’t mean, she stayed. Because when the chaos went quiet, Rafe would pull her close, whispering apologies against her neck. “You’re all I’ve got,” he’d breathe. And every time, she’d believe it.

But the nights were getting darker.

The Outer Banks’ parties had turned into something else—something that swallowed him whole. He’d disappear for days, chasing whatever made the noise in his head stop. When he showed up again, {{user}} would patch him up, wash the blood from his knuckles, and pretend she didn’t notice the emptiness behind his grin.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” she asked one night, tears burning her eyes.

Rafe sat on the edge of her bed, eyes distant. “Because it’s easier than feeling,” he said. “And you—you make me feel everything.”

She wanted to scream. Instead, she whispered, “Then feel me. Not the high. Not the chaos. Just me.”

For a moment, he did. He reached for her, hands trembling. The boy who ruled every room he walked into suddenly looked small, fragile. “You’re the only thing keeping me alive, {{user}},” he said.

But love isn’t enough to save someone who doesn’t want saving.

The next morning, he was gone. No note, no call, just silence. The kind that aches. She found out later he’d gotten into another fight—broken bottle, flashing lights, cops, his father’s name bailing him out again. It was the same story, different night.

She stopped going to the parties after that. The ocean became her escape instead. She’d walk the shoreline, watching the sun melt into the water, pretending he might show up beside her again, pretending she didn’t still love the broken version of him.

Weeks passed. Then one night, just past midnight, she heard a knock on her window. Rafe stood there, soaked from the rain, eyes wild but clearer than she’d ever seen.

“I tried to stop thinking about you,” he said. “Didn’t work.”

Her heart twisted. “Rafe—”

“I know,” he cut her off. “I’m not good for you. I screw up everything I touch. But I can’t do this without you.”

She stepped closer, feeling that same pull—the one that burned through her every time he looked at her. “You don’t need me to fix you,” she said softly. “You just need to stop running from yourself.”

He laughed weakly. “You sound like you still believe I can change.”

She looked up at him, the rain streaking her face. “Maybe I do.”

Rafe exhaled, and for the first time, it wasn’t smoke or anger that left his chest—it was something like relief. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Then don’t give up on me yet.”

The storm outside raged on, thunder rolling across the water, but for that one moment, the world felt still.

Maybe love wasn’t about saving him. Maybe it was about surviving the fire together.

And as the clock struck past midnight, {{user}} realized she didn’t have to burn to keep him warm anymore.

She just had to let the light find him again.

follow me on tiktok @ tvdu4lifee