Behind the psycho || Rafe Cameron x Reader || OBX fanfic

twenty-nine

♥

Before you start...
I had written my own alternate ending in chapter 28 but I'll be following along with the show's season 3 events in the following chapters

~featuring Conan Gray's Astronomy (aka. the embodiment of this book)

*****

No matter what he did, I would never be ready to forget him.

Rafe broke our kiss and watched me, as the red in my cheeks dissolved. I looked down, embarrassed, but his firm hand against my face made me turn up to meet his light eyes—the exact colour of a summer sky. 

"You're so beautiful," he said quietly. I almost didn't hear him. The sun hit him at the perfect angle, making his eyelashes golden. 

"Rafe." I couldn't help but smile. 

For a minute, I imagined a world where we were normal—a world where we didn't have to worry about anything except ourselves. But it was past that. There was so much going on. So much to worry about. It was a naive fantasy to think that we could go on dinners or go to the beach. It would've been nice, though I wouldn't change a thing. The things we've experienced together prove we can last. It might not have been possible if everything had been normal. But I couldn't help but wonder: What if everything was? 

One of the crew came to announce to the group, "Three hours to Guadeloupe!" 

So quickly, everyone started gathering around the hoarded shining cross, Rafe whispered in my ear, "Go to the room and get ready," his breath was hot, as if he'd been running, "I'll come down later."

*****

By chance, I opened the wooden door in hopes of it being the right room. I could see the messy bed (the remnant of events), one open suitcase, and next to it a duffel bag—assuming, yes, it was the right room. 

With a sigh, I walked over to my duffel bag and pulled out a set of fresh clothes, along with a comb, and headed to the corner bathroom. A hot shower was exactly what I needed to get rid of the fatigue sticking to my body. But showers were renowned for thoughts.

The thoughts of my father's words stained my mind, like a drop of black ink in a glass of water. I stood under the showerhead until it burned my back.

Take the cross. 

I was lucky I wasn't going back or else I would've been stuck in a dilemma. 

I pressed down on the soap bottle's pump and carried on while anxiety resided in my chest.

I discarded my phone into the ocean when I was up on deck, and I can imagine my father continuously calling me but receiving no answer. I can see him showing up on the Camerons' doorstep in Guadeloupe, demanding a large share—if not everything. I can imagine my father dragging me out as Rafe watches me with a look of betrayal splintering his face...

"Stop," I gasped, letting the water fill my mouth. 

I shut it off, stepped out of the shower and hastily patted myself dry. I dragged up a pair of comfy black jeans, but my skin was still wet, so it felt sticky. My shirt, on the other hand, was plastered to the centre of my back, further encouraged by my dripping wet hair. The quick reason for setting the towel on my shoulders before opening the bathroom door.