Pretty When You Cry ୨୧ Rafe Cameron

thirty eight

Sitting on the beach, 'That Funny Feeling', the Phoebe Bridgers version, playing through old wired headphones despite the millions of dollars now to her name since Friday, four days ago, Isla started out at the sea.

She didn't care that it was a little chilly. She always found peace in the ocean. It was her thing. Early morning beach walks gave her tranquility, and today was no different. She had woken up at 5 am to some serious nausea, so she threw up in Rafe's downstairs bathroom as to not wake him and decided to just go for a little walk in her pyjamas.

She was exhausted, and she didn't even know why. The fatigue was holding her down. She was supposed to be happy right now. Rafe seemed happy. Her friends seemed happy without her. But she couldn't get rid of this feeling of dread in her stomach. She was supposed to be having the time of her life. Yet here she was, moping, waiting for something to go wrong.

It was all settling in for her now, only over three months after the pain and loss registered for everyone else. It was like now that there was a bit of peace, there was space of all the bad feelings to creep in. She had lost her father. She had lost her friends. She had lost her brother.

Everything was falling apart, and as much as she was in love with him, Rafe couldn't keep it together. He knew it too. He knew he couldn't help her with this. It was her burden to carry.

There was just so many things she couldn't understand. Why were her friends so angry over her damn trauma response? What had her brother told them?

Isla would've split her money with them if they weren't on the outs. She would've made sure each of them were set for life. But despite being kind, she was petty. If they wanted to treat her like she didn't exist, fine, her money wouldn't exist for them either.

The song changed to 'Anthems For A Seventeen Year Old Girl' by Broken Social Scene as the sun peaked over the horizon. It was ironic because oh yeah, it was her seventeenth birthday. She didn't tell Rafe. Nobody would acknowledge her birthday this year, and she was okay with that. Rafe had done enough for her. She didn't need birthday wishes or presents.

She thought about all that had happened since her 16th birthday. She missed that day. It was like that day she was a child, laughing with her friends, and now she was an adult, crying on the beach.

"Girl make a good ass wish! But don't tell us, because then it won't come true!" Kiara laughed after they finished singing Isla happy birthday. "And John B you can make whatever, I don't care if your wishes come true," she joked.

"Ok, ok. 3, 2,1.." Isla blew out her candles, and John B followed suit. She did make a wish. She silently prayed to someday end up happy, financially stable, with a husband and kids and a normal life and a real job. Isla had no interest in becoming her father. She wanted to work and be committed to the people she loved, unlike him who only chased dreams instead of facing reality.

"Yay! Happy birthday, to us. Now we eat," John B smiled, picking the candles out of the cake as smoke swirled around them, then handing Isla a butter knife to cut the cake.

"Bro, do you really think a butter knife is gonna cut a cake? Grab a bread knife or a steak knife or something," Pope laughed, poking fun at her twin. Isla threw her head back laughing too.

John B searched their kitchen. All he could find was their dad's fishing knife. Big John came out of the living room at the same time. "Hey, no don't use that! That's for fish you dumbass!"

Everyone laughed. John B shrugged in defeat. "Honestly, at this point just eat the cake with your hands. There's no correct knife," he joked.

But JJ actually went for it and took a fist full of vanilla cake and blue frosting with rainbow sprinkles. His face was covered in the icing after he gobbled the dessert down, and he had a little green sprinkle stuck to his nose. Isla didn't stop laughing for a half hour, her stomach hurt from it.

That's one of Isla's favourite memories of all time.

Isla missed her friends. She missed good days like that. She'd go back in a heartbeat. She missed her brother. Her flesh and blood. She debated texting him happy birthday. But she knew she wouldn't. She was so mad at him. But deep down, she just missed her sibling. The boy who once put bandaids on her boo-boos and watched Scooby Doo with her. The boy she dressed up as Shark Boy and Lava Girl with for Halloween ten years ago.

The purple hues of the sky reflected onto the sea. It was a beautiful morning, like the sky was telling her it was all going to be okay. She couldn't trust something as stupid as the sky. She didn't know if she could trust anyone anymore.

She didn't even know if she could trust Rafe. Sure, she was in love with him, but life isn't that simple. Just because she wanted him didn't mean he wouldn't hurt her. He could simply choose to cheat on her. He could run off. He could start doing coke daily again. There was so many ways for him to betray her.

And she didn't trust herself with her life. She wanted to drink during moments like this. She wanted to go swim in the ocean and let the tide take her away. She was vulnerable all the damn time, and she despised it. No matter how many strangers came up to her in public after seeing her and her friends on the news telling her she was so strong for surviving on that island she didn't believe it. She was weak. She was going to break any minute.

"Isla." She heard a voice she was accustom to say. Rafe sat down next to her, flannel pyjama pant covered legs on the sand. She took out her headphones, the song playing becoming muffled as she dropped them in the sand.

"How'd you know where I went?" she asked.

"Because I know you. We've talked about how much you love your early morning beach walks," Rafe replied. He rubbed his thumb on her kneecap soothingly. "Is something wrong? You look upset."

Isla could feel her walls crumbling at each sleepily hoarse voiced word that came out of his mouth. "It's my birthday."

Rafe was suprised. "Aw, baby why didn't you tell me? I would've got you something..."

"You've done more than enough for me, Rafe. Don't worry about presents," Isla said.

"I know I've helped you out but I still would've like to have known. Is that why you're up so early? Because you were anxious about your birthday or something?"

"No I threw up," Isla replied.

"Oh my god, you should've woke me. Are you sick or something? Is everything alright? How are you feeling now?" Rafe panicked. The thought of something being wrong with this girl stressed him beyond belief. She had to always be alright. He couldn't lose her.

"No, no I'm fine. Don't worry. It was just when I first woke up," Isla insured him.

"Are you sure? Do you wanna see a doctor or something? I can bring you there."

"Rafe, I'm alright. I promise."

"Ok. Good. Can't have my favourite person getting sick," Rafe replied with a smile, rubbing his hand on her thigh.

"I'm your favourite, huh?" Isla moved closer to him, smirking back at him.

"Oh yeah. Totally my favourite," Rafe agreed, pulling her even closer and bringing her in for a kiss. It was gentle but full of passion. He wanted Isla to be happy. He wanted to help be the cause of that. And god, her lips were so soft.

They moved their lips against each others until his tongue seeked entry to her mouth, which she gladly gave it. She kissed him back with equal effort, hands grabbing at his back through his thin shirt, feeling the muscles of his shoulder blades. He was so strong. She always felt so protected with him, as he was so physically dominant, standing at 6'3 and probably weighing in at over 200 pounds of muscle.

The kiss ended and he planted a soft, lingering one on her forehead. "I love you Isla Routledge."

a/n: so, I wanna know what yall think is gonna happen next 👀👀👀 comment on this your guesses please. and yes, EVERYBODY PLSSSS don't be a silent reader, speak up queen 🗣️🗣️🗣️