Having A Date Isn't Being Pussy Whipped. It's How You'd Crawl On Your Hands And Knees Like A Bitch If

❝ Having a date isn't being pussy whipped. It's how you'd crawl on your hands and knees like a bitch if she asked you to. ❞ Rafe rolls his eyes, then shaking his head. ❝ See that's the difference between you and me. I wouldn't let myself get mind fucked , but clearly that's the only fucked you're getting. ❞

"Since when is having a date night being pussy whipped?" He asks. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? You want me to just make-out with Sarah and leave? That's not how relationships work, Rafe. God forbid you actually do something your girlfriend likes."

He gets pushed back, and he takes a bit of a stumble but he doesn't take it personally, he just smirks at Topper as he steps up to him. ❝ That's the thing, you're not doing anything behind closed doors. ❞ Rafe shouldn't be poking the bear, but it's kind of fun to watch Topper get worked up like this. He can't help it. Well, he could.

He just doesn't want too.

❝ Yeah, you'd do anything. Name one time you've told her no. I'll wait.❞

"Hold up, hold up. You think I'd do ANYTHING she asked me to?" He questions his best friend. Even though it's true, Topper would do anything for Sarah, he wants to hear it from Rafe's mouth so he can punch him. "Mind fucked? Seriously?!" He pushes his friend back. "Dude. Shut the fuck up right now. I am NOT mind fucked, and anything that Sarah and I do behind closed doors is none of your business."

𝖧𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 ; he would only ruin her. Those were his words and he said them repeatedly like a mantra. And yet as she stands before him now telling him what she needs, and how she needs more time that's when he knows she took his words to heart.

And it hurts more than he ever thought possible.

Mary had been his pillar through the storms, someone to reach to when things got topsy-turvy. Even as he pleased that she go before his demons latched on to her too ; he never thought she'd actually leave.

There is a part of him that can't be angry about it - he wanted this. He needed this. For her to remain unscathed from his form of unhinged. And yet ...

❝ All those times you wanted me to let you in ... ❞ he murmurs. ❝ Those times you said you'd stay, what were those ...? ❞ Does he want to call them lies? No, he couldn't handle it if that's what they were.

❛ 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍. ❜ - 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗒 @wachtraeumen

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 ... She says that now. But if she knows the truth of what he did, what he'd do, what he has done she would look at him different. Look at him like the disappointment he knows himself to be. He hears it every day from Rose, from Ward, from Sarah ... The only one who doesn't look at him like he's managed to turn everything he touches into ash is Wheezie.

Wheezie and her.

She will leave. It's better if she does. Best, in fact, that she take those steps back and find herself someone else. Someone better. Someone not completely shattered and trying to scrape the pieces together trying to hold them together with blood seeping from his own wounds. The cuts on his hands of trying so hard to grasp on to his father's approval only to be met with disdain of everything he does.

How long until Mary sees it, too? Sees him for the disaster that he is underneath the facade of having a fucking clue as to what he's doing with his life and how to get there. How to get everyone to see what he wants them to see.

Him. His worth.

Shaking his head he pulls his cheek from her hand and steps back.

❝ I'll only ruin this. ❞ he manages to whisper. ❝ I'll ruin you. ❞

𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 Rafe's every move, unblinking, as she observes the tension that coils through his body like a tight spring. She can only imagine the depth of his struggle, the demons he battles daily. Listening to him list all the things he blames himself for, the people he believes he's failed—including the foreboding certainty that he'll fail her too—stirs a resolute shake of her head. She rises from where she's been sitting, his warning urging her to flee, to preserve herself from the inevitable wreckage of his world. Perhaps she should, considering her own shadowed past nipping at her heels, but something deeper than fear anchors her feet. She understands what it's like to be scared, even terrified of someone, but standing here with Rafe, she feels none of that fear. Instead, she sees the frustration etched into the lines of his face, like a silent cry for help that so many seemed to miss. ❝ Rafe, I am not going to leave..., ❞ she steps closer, her hand reaching out, hovering just shy of touching him, as if afraid that physical contact might startle him further into isolation. ❝ Whatever you did…you don’t 'ave to go through this all alone, and you're not going to mess it up with me. I won’t let you. ❞ Her dark eyes lock onto his, wide and earnest, shimmering with unshed tears. They glisten in the dim light, catching and reflecting the slightest hint of movement, betraying the depth of her feelings. She just cares too much to leave him by himself. Too well does she know that kind of loneliness, and she is the kind of person who can't bear the thought of him enduring that same torment without someone by his side.

Then, her hand hovers in the air for a moment before she inches it forward, her fingers trembling slightly as they stretch toward him, gently cupping his cheek without thinking through whether this will set him off more or not. Yet, fear doesn’t even cross her mind. All she wants is for him to know there is someone who cares, someone who doesn't dismiss his emotions. ❝ Look at me, ❞ she insists gently, her voice soft but firm. Her touch is warm, hopefully grounding, her thumb brushing lightly over his skin, seeking to break through the barrier of his pain. After a brief pause, she takes a deep breath, ❝ Let me try and 'elp you. ❞

This is your friendly reminder that if you call Rafe "Rafey" and you're dating he will break up with you right on the spot.

He'll take "babe", "baby', or anything of that nature.

But the moment you call him Rafey? Rafey-Kins? Rafey-poo?

Yer done.