random character imagines (Requests Are Open)

Rafe Cameron: angst

In the dimly lit garage, the smell of grease and gasoline was a familiar embrace for Rafe Cameron. He had spent countless hours here, his hands stained with oil, elbow-deep in the guts of a car that had more stories than the town library. His eyes focused on the engine in front of him, he barely noticed the soft hum of the radio playing a classic rock song. The world outside could be chaos, but in here, it was just him and the steel beasts that whispered their secrets to him.

Y/N, his best friend since childhood, walked in, her sneakers squeaking against the concrete floor. She held a first-aid kit tightly to her chest, a look of concern etched on her face. "Rafe, you okay?" she called out, her voice cutting through the solitude.

Rafe looked up, his eyes bloodshot from the dust and his jaw tight from the fight. He nodded curtly, not quite meeting her gaze. "It's nothing," he said, wiping a trickle of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

Y/N approached him, setting the first-aid kit on the workbench. She studied his bruised face, her thumb brushing against his jawline gently. "You've got a nasty cut here," she murmured, her voice soothing despite the tension in the air. "Let me clean it up."

Rafe flinched at her touch, not used to such tenderness from her. The fight had left him raw, both physically and emotionally. He'd been trying to play it cool, but the pain in his chest was unmistakable. "I can do it," he said gruffly, reaching for the kit.

But Y/N was insistent. She took his hand in hers, her grip surprisingly firm. "Sit down," she ordered gently, guiding him to a stool. "You're in no condition to be patching yourself up." Her eyes searched his, a question lingering unspoken. Rafe sat, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and comfort.

With careful precision, she cleaned the wound, the sting of antiseptic bringing him back to reality. He watched her, noticing the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the gentle way she dabbed at his skin. It was a stark contrast to the fiery spirit he'd seen in her so many times before. For a moment, he felt something shift within him, something warm and terrifying.

Their friends, Topper and Kelce, stumbled in, laughter echoing off the garage walls. They'd been out celebrating their victory at the local dive bar, and the smell of cheap beer and sweat trailed them like a fog. "Looks like someone's been playing a little too rough," Topper said, his grin wide and teasing. Kelce elbowed him in the ribs. "Leave the lovebirds alone."

Y/N's cheeks flushed at their banter, and she tried to play it off with a laugh, but the weight of their words hit Rafe like a sledgehammer. He'd never allowed himself to be this vulnerable with anyone, especially not Y/N. The thought of them being seen as a couple made his stomach twist into knots. He jerked his hand away from hers, the sudden movement causing her to drop the cotton swab.

"I said I can handle it," he snapped, his voice echoing in the garage. The music on the radio seemed to fade into the background as the tension grew palpable.

Y/N took a step back, her eyes wide. "I'm just trying to help," she said softly, picking up the dropped swab.

Topper and Kelce exchanged glances, the teasing smiles wiped from their faces. They'd never seen Rafe like this before—so volatile, so...vulnerable. They knew better than to push it. With a shrug, Topper clapped Rafe on the shoulder. "Alright, man. If you're good, we're gonna head out." Kelce nodded in agreement, and the two of them left the garage, the door slamming shut behind them.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Y/N stared at the closed door, her heart racing. She felt like she'd been slapped in the face, the sting of rejection burning like the antiseptic she'd just applied to Rafe's wound. She took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. "Fine," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest. "I'll leave you to it."