❝Midsummers Part 3: Undeniably, Truthfully, In love with you. ❞
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It was half past eight when Ophelia made her way to a private place outside.
Tanned forearms hung over the terrace as she glanced out into the distance, a row of trees in her view, the faint sounds of voices coming from around her the only thing keeping her sane.
Tears had welled in her eyes, something she so terribly tried to hide, though felt the overwhelming emotions of the night, and let out a silent whimper as the salty drops of water hit the girls face.
Goosebumps rising on her tanned skin, her lips began to tremble, the night air cool as it blew through her hair, black curls cascading behind her.
It was silent, to say the least, so when she heard quiet footsteps inch behind her slowly, her body grew warm, blue fabric layered over her shoulders, strong hands remaining there for a moments time.
Neither had said a word. Ophelia continue to admire the scenery, green eyes bright as the tears continued t form, threatening to spill at the smallest inconvenience. "You don't get to do that, Rafe."
Ophelia's words were quiet, almost so the boy next to her almost had to ask her to repeat herself. She didn't need to look next to her, the strong scent of cologne and the pale blue jacket draped over her shoulders giving it away - the same person who would always be at her side.
"You don't kiss your best friend."
Silence filled the air once again, Rafe toying with his fingers over the banister, yet another nervous habit he adapted recently.
Next to him, tears clouded Ophelia's view, taking in deep breath's as she glanced beside her, her eyes falling amongst the boy she adored most, not being able to look at him quite the same. "Ophelia." He sighed softly, and that was when his eyes met hers.
She wasn't sure what to say to the boy. In fact, she wasn't sure what she was doing at all, yet she stood tall, chin up and lis pursed through the tears, her hand wrapping along the railing as he spoke.
"I've never been good enough for anyone." Rafe admitted, cutting the thickening silence as he ran his hand through his now messy hair, throwing the bowtie he wore over the ledge. "My dad's a piece of work." He rambled. "I don't feel like I belong anywhere, unless it's with you."
Ophelia Martin was a talker. A bright personality, it often said a lot when the brunette was at a loss for words - much like now.
"Baby." Rafe chuckled lightly, bringing his hand to his eyes to wipe away the tears that became unbearably hard to hide, only hoping Ophelia hadn't noticed. "You're my person."
