Rafe Cameron Imagines

I Love You, I'm Sorry🤍

Rafe Cameron was a storm—beautiful in the way he could make you feel alive, devastating in the way he could tear you apart. Loving him had always felt like trying to outrun a hurricane, knowing it would catch up eventually, knowing it would leave nothing but wreckage in its wake.

And you had been caught in that storm for far too long.

The night was quiet except for the low hum of Rafe's truck engine. Parked on an empty backroad, the world outside felt still, but inside the car, everything was suffocating. The ocean wasn't far, just past the trees, and you could hear the distant crash of the waves against the shore. The scent of saltwater lingered in the air, but it did nothing to soothe the tightness in your chest.

Rafe sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His jaw was clenched, his knee bouncing restlessly, and his eyes—those wild, electric blue eyes—were darker than usual, clouded with something heavy. Something desperate.

"Say something," he muttered, voice rough like he had been holding back everything until now.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, staring straight ahead. "What do you want me to say, Rafe?"

He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head as he let out a bitter laugh. "I don't know. That you still love me? That you don't fucking hate me?"

Your chest ached at the way his voice cracked, but you stayed quiet.

"Of course," he said, laughing again—sharp and humorless, the kind of laugh that made your stomach twist. "Of fucking course. You just sit there and look at me like that. Like you already made up your mind."

You finally turned to him, your patience thinning. "Because I have, Rafe."

His whole body tensed, and when he looked at you, his gaze was almost angry. "No, you haven't."

"Yes, I have."

"You always do this," he snapped, shaking his head. "You always fucking do this. You tell me you love me, you tell me you're here, and then you—" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "You walk away. Every goddamn time."

"Are you kidding me right now?" you said, your voice rising in disbelief. "You push me away, Rafe. You go off the deep end, you shut me out, and then when I can't keep doing this, suddenly I'm the one walking away?"

He looked at you like you had just hit him. "That's not fair," he muttered.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Oh, I'm not fair? That's rich coming from you."

"You're acting like I don't fucking try," he snapped, his voice laced with frustration. "Like I don't want to be better. But you—" He shook his head. "You don't get it."

"Then help me get it!" you shot back. "Explain it to me, Rafe! Explain why you self-destruct every time things start getting good! Explain why I have to sit here and watch you ruin yourself, watch you ruin us!"

He clenched his jaw, looking away like he couldn't stand the way you were looking at him. Like he hated himself for it.

"I love you," he said, his voice quieter now, strained. "I fucking love you. And I try."

Your heart clenched painfully. "Trying isn't enough anymore, Rafe."

Silence. Thick and suffocating.

Rafe let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "I tend to laugh when I'm sad," he admitted, the corners of his lips twitching upward in that way that had once made you fall for him. But now, it just hurt. "It actually works, you know? Staring at the crash."

And that was what this was.

A crash you both had seen coming.

A crash neither of you had been willing to stop.

You closed your eyes for a second, taking in the sound of the ocean, the distant rustling of the trees, the way the world kept turning despite how shattered you felt.

Then, finally, you looked at him. "I love you, Rafe."

His breath hitched like he was bracing for impact.

"But I can't do this anymore."

The words hung in the air, final and unmoving. Rafe sat there, staring at you like he was waiting for you to take it back, to laugh and say this was just another fight you would eventually work through. But you didn't.

He clenched his jaw, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his hands shook. "Don't do this," he said, barely above a whisper. "Please."

Your eyes burned, but you refused to cry. "I already did."

He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven, his whole body tense like he was trying to hold himself together. Like if he let go, even for a second, he would fall apart.

But you couldn't be the one to put him back together anymore.

You reached for the door handle, your heart hammering in your chest. As much as it hurt, as much as every part of you wanted to hold on just a little longer, you knew it was time to let go.

Stepping out into the cold night air, you hesitated for only a second before shutting the door behind you. The sound echoed in the stillness, sealing a chapter of your life that you would never get back.

Rafe stayed in the truck, unmoving. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight that his hands ached, but he couldn't bring himself to loosen it. His throat burned, his head was spinning, and he wanted to chase after you. To tell you he could fix this—even though he knew he couldn't.

Instead, he let his head fall back against the seat, staring at the roof of the truck as his voice broke into the empty silence.

"I love you, I'm sorry."