𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

ογδόντατέσσερα ; 84

song of the chapter:
ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ; tyler, the creator

Margarita walked through the empty streets, her mind spinning as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. The night air was sharp, cutting through her like the reality she couldn't escape. The betrayal, the sting of JJ and Kie—it was too fresh, too raw. Each step forward felt like she was dragging her heart behind her, shattered and bleeding, but she kept moving. It was all she could do.

She didn't know where she was going. Part of her wanted to disappear into the shadows, to find some place where no one would ever see her again. But there was something else pulling her, something darker and familiar. Her feet carried her through the streets of the Outer Banks until she reached a familiar spot.

Barry's.

The rundown house looked the same as always—dim lights, peeling paint, the faint thump of music inside. Margarita's heart clenched as she stood on the edge of the property, debating with herself. She had promised she wouldn't do this again. She had told herself that she was done with the self-destruction, that she didn't need the escape anymore. But tonight? Tonight, she wasn't so sure.

Her fingers itched at her sides, the need for something to numb the pain overpowering the voice in her head telling her to walk away.

Just one more time, she thought, the excuse already forming. Just to forget, just to get through this night.

Before she knew it, her feet were carrying her to the front door, her knuckles rapping lightly against the wood. A few seconds passed, then the door swung open.

Barry stood there, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker when he saw her. His eyes swept over her, taking in the tear-streaked face, the lost look in her eyes. He knew why she was here, and he didn't even need to ask.

"Margarita," he said, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing smirk. "I was wondering when I'd see you again."

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. "I just—" Her voice faltered, and she forced herself to look him in the eye. "I need something."

Barry's smirk deepened, and he stepped aside, letting her in. She hesitated for a second, the voice in her head screaming at her to turn around, to leave while she still could. But her feet moved on their own, carrying her inside the house. The door closed behind her with a soft click, sealing her fate.

Inside, the familiar smell of cigarettes and something stronger hit her, and the low hum of music vibrated through the air. Barry didn't say anything as he led her into the living room, where a few other people were scattered, lost in their own worlds.

He dropped onto the couch, motioning for her to sit. "What are you looking for?" he asked casually, like they were discussing the weather. But there was a glint in his eyes, something predatory, like he could sense her desperation.

Margarita bit her lip, her fingers trembling as she sat down beside him. "Something to forget," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Barry leaned back, watching her for a moment before he nodded. "I can help with that."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag and placing it on the table between them. Her eyes locked onto it, the temptation pulling at her, but the voice in her head—JJ's voice, the one that had tried to protect her, even if he had betrayed her—whispered that this was a mistake.

But she couldn't listen to that voice now. Not after everything.

Her hand shook as she reached for the bag, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt Barry's eyes on her, watching her every move, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the numbness that was just within reach.

Just as her fingers brushed the bag, the door to the house creaked open.

Margarita froze, her eyes snapping to the entrance. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but when Rafe stepped inside, her heart nearly stopped. His gaze found her instantly, and the look in his eyes was something she couldn't read—anger, confusion, concern? She didn't know.

For a moment, no one moved. Barry leaned forward slightly, his eyes flicking between Margarita and Rafe, a slow smile creeping onto his face.

"Well, well," Barry said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Looks like we've got ourselves a little reunion."

Rafe didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, his eyes locked on Margarita, his jaw tight. The tension in the room thickened, and Margarita's breath caught in her throat.

"Get out," Rafe finally said, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes not leaving hers.

Barry raised an eyebrow. "You think you can just walk in here and start giving orders?" he asked, laughing under his breath.

Rafe stepped closer, his presence filling the room. "I'm not asking," he said coldly, his gaze hardening.

Barry glanced at Margarita, then back at Rafe, clearly weighing his options. After a moment, he shrugged, standing up from the couch. "Fine. But if she wants to stay, she stays. Not my problem."

He walked past Rafe, disappearing into the back room, leaving them alone.

Margarita sat there, her heart racing, the bag still on the table in front of her. She couldn't bring herself to look at Rafe, but she could feel the weight of his stare.

"Margarita," he said, his voice softer now, filled with something she hadn't heard in a long time—worry. "What are you doing here?"

She swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill again. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't know anymore."

Rafe crossed the room, kneeling in front of her, his hand gently resting on hers, stopping her from reaching for the drugs. "You don't need this," he said quietly. "Not like this."

Margarita finally looked at him, her eyes filled with pain, with doubt. "What else is there, Rafe? What am I supposed to do?"

Rafe's eyes softened, and for the first time in a long time, she saw something real in them. He wasn't the boy lost in his own chaos anymore. He was something different, something...more.

"Come with me," he said, his voice steady, his hand squeezing hers. "We'll figure it out together."

Margarita stared at him, unsure of what to do, unsure of where this road would lead. But in that moment, for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to face it all alone.

--- end of chapter