𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

εβδομήνταένα ; 71

song of the chapter:
GOOD ENOUGH ; tia gordon

Margarita woke up to the harsh light seeping through her curtains, her head pounding from the night before. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by the remnants of whatever she had taken. She didn't remember. She didn't want to remember. All she knew was that every inch of her ached—not just physically, but in the deepest parts of her mind and heart.

She sat up slowly, the room spinning slightly as she rubbed her temples. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a message from 

Rafey
We need to talk.

She stared at it, her thumb hovering over the screen. For a moment, she considered not replying. She didn't have the energy for another round of apologies and broken promises. But she knew she couldn't ignore him forever. They were both too far gone for that.

With a sigh, she typed back

ok where

The reply came almost instantly: 

The docks.

Margarita tossed her phone onto the bed and dragged herself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror was one she barely recognized. The hollow eyes, the pale skin, the cracks in her façade that no amount of makeup could cover anymore. She hated the person she had become, but she wasn't ready to face the reality of it just yet. So she pulled on a hoodie, tied her hair up, and shoved her feet into a pair of sneakers, trying to push down the rising nausea in her stomach as she headed out the door.

The docks were quiet when she arrived, the water lapping gently against the posts. Rafe was already there, leaning against the railing with a cigarette between his fingers, his expression as unreadable as ever. He didn't look up as she approached, but she could feel the tension radiating off him.

"Rafe," she said softly, standing a few feet away.

He didn't respond immediately, just took a long drag of the cigarette before tossing it into the water. "I'm tired, Margarita," he finally said, his voice low. "I'm tired of this... of us."

Margarita's heart clenched, but she stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. She could see the strain on his face, the exhaustion in his eyes. This wasn't the Rafe she'd fallen for, the one who'd made her laugh, who'd held her when she was scared. This was someone else—someone broken.

"I can't keep doing this," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I keep dragging you down with me, and I don't know how to stop."

She bit her lip, her mind racing. She had wanted this, hadn't she? The space. The distance. But now that he was standing here, telling her it was over, she wasn't sure if she was ready to let him go.

"I thought we could get better," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I thought we could fix this."

Rafe shook his head, his jaw tight. "You can't fix me, Margarita. And I can't fix you." His eyes met hers then, and she saw the pain, the regret. "We're both too far gone."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of their words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

"I don't want to lose you," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. It was the truth—the raw, aching truth she had been too scared to admit. Rafe had become her world, her escape, even when everything else was falling apart. But now, standing on the edge of this breaking point, she realized that maybe she had already lost him.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch her arm. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid she might pull away. But she didn't. She couldn't. "I love you," he said, his voice strained. "I always will. But we're killing each other. You know that, right?"

Margarita closed her eyes, tears burning at the edges. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew he was right. Every fight, every promise, every failed attempt to save each other had only pushed them further into the darkness.

"I don't know who I am without you," she whispered.

Rafe's hand dropped to his side, his expression softening. "You'll figure it out," he said quietly. "We both will."

For a moment, they stood there, the sound of the waves filling the silence between them. There was no grand goodbye, no dramatic kiss in the rain. Just two people who had once loved each other, now standing on opposite sides of a chasm they could no longer bridge.

Finally, Margarita stepped back, her heart aching with every movement. "Goodbye, Rafe."

He nodded, his eyes full of an unspoken sadness. "Goodbye, Margarita."

She turned and walked away, her steps slow and heavy. Each step felt like a weight being lifted, and yet it hurt more than she ever thought possible. She didn't look back—she couldn't.

As she left the docks, the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. She wiped them away with the sleeve of her hoodie, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

It wasn't the ending she wanted. It wasn't the closure she had hoped for. But it was the only ending that made sense.

--- end of chapter