𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

πενήντατρία ; 53

song of the chapter:
LOVERS ROCK ; tv girl

The soft light of dawn filtered through the half-closed blinds, casting a golden glow across the room. Margarita stirred, her eyes fluttering open as the warmth of the early morning sun kissed her skin. For a brief moment, everything was still—quiet, peaceful, as if the world outside had paused.

She blinked slowly, her body curled beneath the tangled sheets, still feeling the presence of the night before. Rafe lay beside her, his arm draped loosely over her waist, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. The storm had long passed, leaving behind a calm that contrasted the whirlwind of emotions she'd felt the night before.

Margarita exhaled softly, staring up at the ceiling, her mind a flurry of thoughts. The rain, the kiss, the way they had given into each other so completely. She shifted slightly, trying to process everything that had happened, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips before doubt crept back in.

What happens now?

The quiet of the morning felt fragile, like it could break at any moment, and with it, the reality of whatever they were—whatever they had become.

The silence wrapped around them like a soft blanket, but beneath it, Margarita could feel the questions stirring inside her, begging to be answered. She glanced over at Rafe, his face relaxed in sleep, a quiet contrast to the storm of emotions she was feeling.

How did we get here? she wondered, her mind drifting back to everything that had happened between them. They had danced around their feelings for so long, and now that they were finally together, it didn't feel like the resolution she'd imagined. There were still so many loose ends, so many things unsaid.

She slid out from beneath his arm, careful not to wake him, and tiptoed to the window. The ground outside was still damp from the rain, puddles reflecting the pale sky. The air smelled fresh, cleansed, but there was a heaviness in her chest that she couldn't shake.

What if this wasn't real? What if the intensity of last night had been just another escape—a way to forget everything she was running from? The Pogues, her family, her past, and now, Rafe. She hugged her arms around herself, her eyes tracing the familiar view of her street, the place that had once felt like home but now felt more like a cage.

Behind her, Rafe stirred, his voice groggy. "You're up early."

Margarita didn't turn around right away, her hand resting on the window sill as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Yeah... couldn't sleep," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep but laced with concern.

Everything. But she couldn't say that, not now. Instead, she gave him a small smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just... thinking about things," she replied vaguely, knowing it wasn't enough but unsure of how to explain the knot of emotions tangled inside her.

Rafe stood, making his way toward her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You don't have to figure everything out right now," he murmured. "We've got time."

Margarita closed her eyes, leaning into him, wanting to believe that. But deep down, she wasn't sure how much time they really had. There was something inevitable about the way things felt, like they were both standing on the edge of something bigger than either of them could control.

"I know," she whispered, her voice soft. But as she stood there, wrapped in his arms, her thoughts drifted back to the gold, the secrets the Pogues were keeping from her, and the path she was being pulled down—whether she liked it or not.