It was a typical afternoon at the Cameron house, but Rafe could feel the tension rising in the pit of his stomach. His father's voice was echoing in his head, reminding him of the expectations and responsibilities that weighed him down. He was supposed to be packing for the family trip to Figure Eight Island, but the stress was eating away at him.
As Rafe tried to shove a few clothes into his suitcase, his mind raced. There was so much on his plate—family drama, dealing with his father's constant criticism, and the pressure to live up to the Cameron name. He needed to get away for a while, clear his head, but packing was proving to be a struggle.
"You good, babe?" Your voice cut through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you standing by the doorway, leaning against the frame with a soft smile on your face.
You could tell something was off by the way he was roughly throwing clothes into his bag, not bothering to fold them properly. You walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I'll be fine," he muttered, his tone terse, but the stress was evident in his eyes. "Just need to get this over with."
You sat down next to him on the bed, the weight of his frustration still hanging in the air. "Wanna talk about it?"
Rafe hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know. It's just... everything. I can't handle it all, y'know? My dad keeps pushing me, and it's like I'm drowning in all this crap."
You could see the exhaustion etched on his face, the way his shoulders sagged under the pressure. He was trying to hold it together, but you could feel how much he needed someone to help him breathe.
"Rafe," you said softly, your fingers brushing his arm, "I'm right here. You don't have to do this alone."
He looked up at you, his expression softening just a little. "Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by an insistent knock on the door.
"Wheezie, for the love of God, what is it now?" Rafe groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration.
The door opened, and Wheezie popped her head in, her face scrunched in worry as she clutched her suitcase. "Rafe, I need help packing! I don't know what to take, and I think I might forget something important."
You couldn't help but smile at her innocent concern, but Rafe's patience was running thin. "Wheezie, we're leaving in like, ten minutes. Can't you just figure it out?"
She pouted, stepping further into the room. "But I don't know what to bring! I need your expertise, Rafe!"
You chuckled softly, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "I think she really needs you."
Rafe let out a long sigh, running his hand through his hair. "Alright, fine," he said, standing up. "I'll help you pack, but you have to promise to leave me alone after this."
Wheezie grinned. "Deal!"
You stayed behind, watching as Rafe and Wheezie began sorting through her clothes. Despite his stress, he couldn't resist being the protective older brother, giving her advice on what to pack and how to overpack like a pro. His irritation was still evident, but there was a sense of warmth in the way he tried to make sure Wheezie had everything she needed.
Wheezie threw another item on the bed. "Do you think I need this, Rafe?"
Rafe glanced at the mountain of clothes and accessories scattered around. His eyes narrowed, and he sighed heavily. "Wheezie, you don't need all this shit." He began picking up random pieces of clothing, tossing them back in her closet. "You're going on vacation, not trying to open a damn boutique. Stick to the basics, alright?"
Wheezie, though still a bit unsure, nodded. "Okay, but what about my favorite shoes?"
Rafe rolled his eyes, but his voice softened a little. "We're going to a beach house, not a runway show. Take one pair of shoes, maybe two. You'll survive."
You giggled quietly, watching them. Despite his gruff exterior, Rafe really did care about making sure Wheezie was taken care of.
After a few more minutes of sorting through her suitcase, Wheezie finally finished, leaving Rafe to return to his own packing. You looked up at him, your hand gently resting on his back.
"Thanks for helping her," you said quietly.
Rafe glanced over at you, exhaustion still visible in his eyes but with a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, well, she's my little sister. Someone's gotta keep her from packing every pair of shoes she owns."
You reached for his hand, pulling him down beside you on the bed. "You know you don't have to do everything on your own, right? I'm here."
He squeezed your hand, his grip a little firmer this time. "I know. And I appreciate you being here."
The stress wasn't gone, but with you by his side and his family (mostly) taken care of, Rafe felt a little lighter. The trip to Figure Eight Island would still come with its own set of problems, but for the first time today, Rafe felt like he could handle it.
"Let's get out of here," he said, his smile returning, albeit faint. "You ready for the island?"
You smiled back, standing up and offering your hand. "Always."
Together, you walked out of the room, leaving the chaos behind. And in that moment, Rafe knew that no matter how complicated things got, with you by his side, he could face anything that came his way.
