Rafeal Barba One Shots

Can't stay away

Rafael had always been the rational one. When he sat you down that night, his words were laced with practicality, but there was a hollowness in his eyes that betrayed the calm exterior.

"This... whatever we have, it's complicated," he began, his voice steady, though you could hear the strain. "Our jobs, the pressure, the scrutiny... it's too much. It's better if we stop this now before it gets harder."

You blinked, trying to process what he was saying. The words felt distant, like they weren't really meant for you. But the pain was sharp, stabbing at your chest as you tried to hold back the tears. "So, that's it? You're just... ending it?" you asked, voice barely a whisper, hoping, praying he'd take it back.

His jaw clenched, and he looked away. "I'm doing this for us," he said, and you could hear the resolve in his tone, even if it was killing him to say it.

You left his apartment that night feeling empty, a hollowness settling in your bones. The days that followed were unbearable. Every time you saw him at work, it was like a punch to the gut. The stolen glances, the small talk that barely masked the tension between you—it all felt so wrong. You missed him. Missed the sound of his laugh, the warmth of his touch, the way his lips felt against yours. Everything was wrong without him.

It didn't take long for Rafael to realize he'd made a mistake. At first, he tried to bury himself in work, telling himself it was for the best. But every case, every quiet moment when he wasn't buried in briefs or arguing in court, his mind wandered to you. He missed you. He missed everything about you. And the more he tried to convince himself that he'd done the right thing, the more he realized how deeply wrong he was.

One evening, about two weeks after the breakup, you were at your apartment, curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand, staring blankly at the TV when you heard a knock on the door. Your heart jumped. You knew that knock. You knew it too well.

Opening the door, you were greeted by Rafael standing there, looking disheveled, tired, but determined. His usual composed facade was gone. "I can't do it," he admitted, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I can't be without you."

You felt your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. "Rafael..."

"I thought I was doing the right thing," he continued, stepping closer to you. "I thought keeping things professional, separating us, was what we needed. But I was wrong. I need you. And I can't—" he paused, running a hand through his hair, the emotion clear in his eyes, "I can't keep pretending like I don't want you in my life."

Before you could respond, his arms were around you, pulling you close. His lips found yours in a kiss that was urgent, filled with all the longing and regret of the past weeks. It was the kiss of someone who had been starving for you, needing you, but too stubborn to admit it until now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your lips, his forehead resting against yours. "I shouldn't have pushed you away."

Tears filled your eyes, but this time they were tears of relief. "I missed you," you confessed, your voice cracking with emotion. "I don't want to be apart from you."

He pulled you even closer, his grip tight as if he was afraid to let go again. "Then we won't be," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I don't care about the complications anymore. I just want you."

And just like that, the wall that had been built between you crumbled. That night, you found your way back to each other. The passion, the connection, everything you'd missed in those weeks apart, came flooding back. It was more than just a reunion—it was a reminder that no matter what, you were meant to be together.