Rafe Cameron Imagines

Never Alone Again Pt 2🤍

The door creaked open, and Rafe stepped inside. His eyes immediately found yours, and without a word, he walked over and sat next to you on the edge of the counter. This time, his presence was calm, steady, as if he was letting you take the lead. He reached for your hand, carefully holding it, the warmth of his fingers grounding you in the moment.

You didn't speak at first, afraid that if you opened your mouth, all the emotions you had been holding back would come pouring out in a flood. But Rafe wasn't going to make you talk just yet. He knew you needed time.

After a long, heavy silence, he spoke softly, his voice still full of concern. "I hate seeing you like this. I don't want you hurting, love." His thumb traced gentle circles on your palm. "But I'm worried. I know you're struggling, and I'm not going to pretend like I understand exactly how it feels, but I can't stand to watch you go through this on your own."

Your throat tightened at his words. You wanted so badly to tell him what had been happening in your head, but it still felt impossible to fully explain. It wasn't something you could just say, something that would make sense. But Rafe was determined. His eyes locked onto yours, searching, trying to make sense of everything.

"I know you're trying to handle this by yourself," he said, his voice breaking the silence once again. "But I'm not okay with that anymore, baby. I need you to let me in. I need you to trust me. I can't help if you don't let me."

You nodded, biting your lip, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to overtake you. You knew he was right. You knew it wasn't healthy to bottle everything up, to try to carry the weight of your pain alone. But you were scared—scared of being weak, scared of him seeing the full extent of your brokenness.

"Why do you think I've been so distant?" you whispered, barely above a breath. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to see me like this."

Rafe squeezed your hand tighter, his gaze soft but intense. "I'm not going anywhere, love. I can handle it. I just... I need you to let me help you. And if that means doing something about this, then I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

You looked down at your lap, and Rafe tilted your chin gently so you were forced to meet his eyes. "Listen to me," he said, his voice firm but loving. "I'm not going to let you keep hurting yourself. I can't. I love you too much to stand by and watch you struggle in silence."

The raw sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You felt it—how much he truly cared, how deeply he was invested in seeing you heal. But it also made you feel something else: shame. You didn't want him to feel burdened by your pain, but you knew, in the back of your mind, that this wasn't something you could fix on your own.

"I'm scared, Rafe," you admitted, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. "I don't know if I can get better. I've been trying, but it's not working. It feels like I'll never be enough. Like this is just... who I am."

Rafe's expression softened, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "That's not true. You are more than enough. You are everything to me. And I won't stop fighting for you, not for a second. But I think we need help, okay? We can't do this alone."

You bit your lip, feeling the sting of his words. You wanted to fight him on it, wanted to say that therapy or anything like that wouldn't help, but deep down, you knew he was right.

"I think it might be time for you to talk to someone," he continued gently, his thumb grazing your wrist. "Maybe therapy. I know it's scary, and I know it's a lot to ask, but you deserve to feel better. You deserve to be happy. And I can't give you that... not the way someone else might be able to."

You froze at the word—therapy. You had never considered it before. The idea of sitting in front of a stranger and opening up about your deepest, most painful thoughts felt terrifying, yet Rafe's words held weight. It was something that might help. Something that could make a difference, even if you couldn't see how.

"I know you're scared," Rafe said softly, his gaze steady on yours. "But I'll be with you every step of the way. We'll find someone who understands. You don't have to do it alone, I promise."

His words were so reassuring, so full of love, that for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this could be the first step in healing, the first step toward taking control again.

"I'll think about it," you said quietly, still unsure but open to the possibility. "I don't know if I'm ready yet."

"That's okay," Rafe replied, brushing his lips across your forehead. "But just know that when you are, I'll be here. I won't pressure you, but I won't let you go through this alone."

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace as he held you close, your head resting on his chest. It felt safe there, comforting, like you could actually breathe for the first time in weeks.

"I'm sorry, Rafe," you whispered after a long silence. "I know I've been distant, and I've been hiding all this from you. I never wanted to hurt you."

He gently pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes. "You never hurt me, love. I'm not mad at you. I just want to help you. I love you, and I'm not going anywhere."

Your heart swelled with emotion as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes unwavering. You believed him. In that moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that things could get better. That you weren't alone in this fight.

As Rafe held you close again, you allowed yourself to let go of the fear, the shame, the loneliness. He was there, and no matter what happened, he would never leave your side. Together, you could face whatever came next.