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─ ☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆ ─
"I love you."
Ophelia smiled. "I love you, more." She replied. Rafe simply shook his head.
Blood was drawn out on both of their faces, though neither seemed to have minded. Barry had been gone, long gone, despite the fact he left Rafe Cameron in a fit of rage, screaming at the top of his lungs.
It was Ophelia who had calmed it down. It was always Ophelia.
Soft finger tips danced alongside Rafe's cheeks, wiping the dark coloured liquid away as she pressed her lips to his. She couldn't seem to get enough.
Rafe was angry, inside and out, though melted at Ophelia's touch, collapsing into her hold as he rested his head against her chest, listening closely to the soft sound of her heart thumping rapidly.
"I'm so sorry, O." Rafe spoke softly. "I know." Ophelia replied. "No." Rafe argued. "You don't. I can't ever make up for what has happened. They hurt you, Ophelia. I hurt you."
Rafe was now crying, his anger masked with utter sadness and despair, his breath catching in his throat as he tugged Ophelia closer. "I left." Ophelia spoke quietly, Rafe's hands only wounding tighter around her waist, as if it were to happen again. "What?"
Ophelia sighed, Rafe's glossy eyes meeting with hers. "I left." Ophelia mimicked. "I left when you needed me most. I hurt you too, Rafe." The tanned boy sighed, knowing well enough, she had done more than hurt him.
She destroyed him.
"I don't know what I would do without you." Rafe cried softly, his trembling hands finding way to her face, squeezing her soft and flushed cheeks beneath his large and calloused hands. "You'll never have to know."
Rafe kissed Ophelia.
The kiss held much more than just passion - it held anger, sadness, betrayal, and most of all, it held connection.
Rafe Cameron and Ophelia Martin were bound at the hip - and the heart - and neither could imagine their lives without one another. He was borderline obsessed, she was in complete and utter infatuation.
The taste of copper and sweat seemed to go unnoticed, the pairs lips attached and never seeming to break. Rafe's hands roamed over Ophelia's tattered clothes, tugging at the thin fabric he had wished so badly to rip away from her body - that was, if he hadn't been as keen on no one seeing what was his.
Ophelia's hands wound in Rafe's hair, her heavy breaths scattered as she couldn't seem to get enough.
Rafe was seated on his bike, Ophelia struggling to keep her feet on the ground as large hands gripped her backside, tugging her on top of the boys lap. Both gasped for air, then met their lips together, and neither were sure they would ever be able to stop.
