Drew Starkey Imagines

Let Me In

You had always known that Rafe Cameron had a temper. It was one of the first things you learned about him—how his frustration could boil over, how his words could cut like knives when he was upset. But you also knew the other side of him: the one who held you so tightly at night, who whispered sweet words into your ear, who looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

But tonight? Tonight, that temper was in full force.

The argument had started over something small—something that should have never escalated like this. It was just a stupid miscommunication, but Rafe had a way of taking things personally, of letting his emotions take control before he could stop them. And now here you were, standing in the middle of his room, his voice raised, his words sharper than you could handle.

"I don't get why you always do this," Rafe snapped, pacing back and forth. His hands raked through his already-messy hair, and you could see the frustration radiating off him. "Why do you always have to make everything a big deal?"

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice even. "I'm not making it a big deal, Rafe. I just wanted to talk to you about it, but you're the one who—"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" he cut you off, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Of course it is. It's always my fault, right? You never do anything wrong."

You flinched at his words. He wasn't just mad—he was hurt, and that made everything so much worse.

"That's not what I'm saying," you whispered, but your voice broke on the last word.

Rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Whatever."

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You knew Rafe. You knew that when he got like this, his words weren't always what he meant. But that didn't make them hurt any less.

"I don't want to fight with you," you admitted, your voice small.

"Then stop making me feel like the bad guy," he shot back.

That was it. That was the breaking point.

A choked sob slipped past your lips before you could stop it, and you took a step back. "I can't do this right now," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Before Rafe could say another word, you turned and rushed up the stairs, your vision blurred by tears. You barely registered the sound of him calling your name, your feet moving on autopilot until you reached his room. You pushed the door shut behind you, sinking onto the bed as the first real sob broke free from your chest.

You hated this. You hated fighting with him, hated the way his words could tear you apart so easily. But more than anything, you hated the way you still wanted him even after everything.

A few moments passed before you heard it—the soft knock on the door, followed by his voice, quieter now. "Baby, let me in."

You took a shaky breath, but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

Another pause. Then, "Please."

Your throat felt tight as you forced the words out. "You can open it."

The door creaked open, and you kept your face buried in the pillow, not wanting him to see just how much this had broken you. But you felt the bed dip beside you, the warmth of his presence surrounding you before you even looked up.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. He just sat there, watching you, his heart sinking at the sight of you curled up and crying because of him.

Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than before. "Baby... I'm so sorry."

You shook your head against the pillow, not trusting yourself to speak just yet.

"I didn't mean to get that mad," he continued, his voice filled with regret. "I was just—God, I don't even know. I was being an ass, and I hate that I made you feel like this."

You sniffled, finally lifting your head just enough to look at him. His blue eyes were filled with guilt, his lips pressed together like he was trying to hold back more apologies.

"I don't like fighting with you," he admitted. "I hate it, actually. And I hate even more that I made you cry."

You wiped at your face, your voice still shaky. "You really hurt me, Rafe."

His whole body tensed at your words, like they physically pained him. "I know," he murmured. "And I hate myself for it."

His fingers brushed against your hand, hesitant, waiting for you to pull away. But you didn't.

"I just get so caught up in my own head sometimes," he admitted, his voice raw with honesty. "And I take it out on you, and that's not fair. You don't deserve that."

You let out a slow breath, the weight of his words settling over you.

"I don't care about being right, Rafe," you whispered. "I just want us to be okay."

His expression softened, and without another word, he reached for you, pulling you into his arms. You didn't resist. You melted into him, burying your face in his chest as another sob wracked through you.

He held you like he was afraid you'd slip away, his grip tight but gentle, his hand running soothingly down your back. "We're okay," he murmured against your hair. "I swear, baby. I won't let us be anything else."

You clung to him, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the warmth of him calm you. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a silent reassurance that he was here, that he wasn't going anywhere.

Minutes passed before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, his eyes searching yours like he needed to see that you believed him.

"I love you too," you whispered.

A breath of relief escaped him, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a long moment. "I promise I'll do better," he said softly. "For you. For us."

And in that moment, you believed him. Because for all his flaws, for all his mistakes, Rafe Cameron loved you. And that was enough.