I Can Fix Him (no really I can) || Rafe Cameron

03. Misfire

The knock comes early, echoing through the quiet house and pulling me from a dreamless sleep. Blinking against the morning light, I sit up on the couch, disorientated for a sec++ond until I remember Pope crashed here last night, stretched out in the armchair across from me. He stirs at the sound, rubbing his eyes as he shifts, half-asleep.

"Who'd be here this early?" Pope mumbles, but he's already standing, heading towards the door. I try to shake off the fog of sleep, my mind still catching up, when i hear a familiar voice from the hallway.

"Pope?" Rafe's voice is sharp, clipped, and in a second, all the exhaustion I felt vanishes. I stand quickly, heading toward the door as the reality of what this must look like to him sinks in.

Pope's already stepped back, giving Rafe room to come inside. But Rafe's eyes are on me, cold and narrowed, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. I try to catch his gaze, but he's looking past me, taking in the pillows and blankets still tossed on the couch.

"What the hell is this?" he demands, voice low and brimming with anger. I swallow, trying to keep calm even as I feel the tension radiating from him.

"Rafe, it's not what you think," I start, stepping toward him, but he holds up a hand, stopping me in my tracks.

"Not what i think? I say I need space and the second that happens, Pope shows up?" He scoffs, his eyes dark with accusation.

"That's not what happened," I say, trying to keep my voice steady even as frustration starts to creep in. "Pope just came to check on me last night. I didn't want to be alone."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" he snaps, voice rising. "You think i'm just going to believe you spent the night together here like nothing happened?"

"Rafe, stop," Pope says, stepping in before I can respond. "You're blowing this out of proportion. Nothing happened. I was just making sure she was okay."

Rafe's eyes flicker toward him, jaw clenching. "And I'm supposed to take your word for it?"

"You should trust me," I interrupted, anger lacing my voice now. "You got fed up last night, Rafe. I didn't know if you'd leave me, and Pope was just being a friend."

"Oh, a friend," he sneers, crossing his arms as his voice drops to a low, bitter tone. "Is that what you call it? 'Friendship'?"

The accusation in his voice cuts deep, and for a moment, i can barely find words. The hurt and frustration I felt last night boils over, anger flaring at the way he's turning this around.

"This isn't about Pope," I snap, my voice sharper than i intended. "You're just mad because i didn't sit here waiting for you to come and decide if you still wanted to be with me."

Rafe's expression hardens, his eyes blazing. "Maybe if you actually cared about us, you wouldn't have needed anyone else here at all."

The words sting, sharp and cutting, and I can feel the tears burning my eyes as i look at him. "If you really believed that, you wouldn't be standing here accusing me of things you know aren't true."

Pope clears his throat, sensing the escalation. "Look, maybe we should all take a minute to cool off-"

But Rafe doesn't look at him, his attention fixed on me, his expression a mix of anger and something darker, almost betrayal. "I thought i could trust you," he says quietly, and there's a rawness to his voice that twists in my chest.

"You can trust me," I say, softer now, desperate for him to understand. "I'd never betray you, Rafe. I just needed a friend."

But he doesn't seem to hear me. With a bitter shake of his head, he turns on his heel and storms toward the door, the tension radiating off him like a charged wire. He pauses in the doorway, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

"You're unbelievable," he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. "Guess I was stupid to think you were any different from the rest. Enjoy being someone else's problem." he spits out, the words cutting deep before he slams the door behind him.

The silence that follows feels deafening, and for a long moment, I just stand there, staring at the closed door, feeling like the air has been knocked from my lungs.

Pope sighs behind me, rubbing a hand over his face. "He's going to realize he overreacted."

But his reassurance feels hollow. "What if he doesn't?" I whisper, the fear creeping in as i replay the look in Rafe's eyes. The anger, the betrayal- all things that I know don't just disappear overnight.

"Pen, he cares about you. He'll come back around," Pope insists, but there's a hint of doubt in his voice too.

I nod, even though I'm not sure i believed him. Rafe's anger, his insecurities- they're like shadows that follow us, always lurking, ready to pounce. And now, as i sit back on the couch, I can't shake the feeling that this is the beginning of something far more complicated.

As the morning drags on, I find myself replaying the conversation in my mind, questioning every word, every look, every moment that lead up to that final, shattering exchange. And all i can do is hope that, somehow, he'll realize that I've always been here for him- even if he's too blinded by his own pain to see it.