Rafe Cameron Imagines

What Have I Done?🤍

It started the way all your fights had been starting lately — with Rafe pacing, voice low and sharp, and you standing your ground like you always did. Except this time, something was already fraying beneath the surface. Something that didn't feel like the usual yelling and apologizing and making up two hours later.

"Why are you always with them?" Rafe asked, jaw clenched, hands on his hips like he couldn't stand still. "Seriously. You spend more time with the Pogues than you do with me."

You blinked. "Because they're my friends, Rafe."

"They're not your friends," he snapped. "They're using you."

"For what?" you asked. "I don't have money. I'm not giving them anything. I'm not—God, do you hear yourself?"

He turned away from you, laughing bitterly. "I hear myself just fine. You're the one who needs a reality check."

"Because I don't only hang out with Kooks?" you shot back. "Because I don't act like I'm better than everyone just because of my last name?"

"You're not like them," he said, voice rising. "You don't belong with them."

"And what — you get to decide who I belong with now?"

"I'm trying to protect you."

"No, Rafe. You're trying to control me."

He stopped.

You knew that would hit a nerve, but you said it anyway. You didn't regret saying it — you regretted how you said it. How loud. How sure. How unforgiving.

"Control you?" he repeated slowly, turning back to face you. "That's what you think this is?"

"You've been acting like it for weeks," you said. "I hang out with someone you don't like, you get mad. I don't answer my phone for an hour, you blow up. I go surfing with JJ and suddenly it's like I've cheated on you."

"Because JJ wants you," Rafe said, voice cold. "And don't act like you don't know it."

"I don't care what he wants. I don't want him. I want you — but you make it so hard to remember that when you act like this."

He blinked, chest heaving.

"You don't trust me," you added.

"No," he snapped. "I don't trust them. I don't trust anyone but you. But they're gonna get you hurt or killed and you think it's all some goddamn beach movie and it's not."

"And you think slamming doors and raising your voice is gonna save me from that?"

"I'm not raising my voice."

"Yes, you are."

"Because you're not listening!"

You were silent.

He stepped closer, breathing hard. "I love you, okay? I love you so much I can't sleep when I think about you hanging out with people who don't care if something happens to you."

You stared at him. "You love me, so I'm not allowed to have friends?"

"You love me, so why do you need them?"

You stepped back. "Don't make this about loyalty."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about you not trusting me to make my own choices."

"Because you make stupid ones sometimes!"

That silence after? That was the part where things started spiraling. You didn't yell back. You didn't flinch.

You just looked at him.

And said, very clearly: "You're not mad at them. You're mad that you can't control me."

His mouth dropped open. Just slightly. Enough for you to see it land.

He looked like you'd smacked him.

And then—

Then it happened.

It was fast. Thoughtless. Reaction over reason. His hand moved before either of you realized what it meant.

The slap wasn't hard. But it was real. And it was him.

It echoed in the space between you. A split-second crack that swallowed all the noise.

And just like that, everything stopped.

You stood there, frozen, hand half-raised to your cheek. Your ears rang. Your breath stilled. You didn't cry. You didn't even speak.

Rafe's hand dropped to his side, and the color drained from his face instantly.

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Then:

"...What have I done."

He took a step back, his own hands trembling now. "Oh my god."

You still hadn't moved.

He stepped forward again, voice breaking. "Wait, wait—please. I didn't mean—"

You flinched.

And he froze.

You flinched because you were afraid of him. That realization hit him harder than anything ever had.

"I didn't mean to do that," he said. "Swear to God, I didn't. I didn't think—I just—fuck—"

"Don't," you said quietly, your voice the calmest it had been all night. "Don't try to explain it."

"You know I'd never—"

"But you did." you whispered.

His eyes were glassy now. "I don't even remember—my head was just—you were yelling and I just—"

"I wasn't yelling," you said, voice hollow. "You were."

He blinked. "I thought I was protecting you."

"No," you said. "You hurt me."

"I know," he choked, sinking to the edge of the couch, burying his face in his hands. "I know. I didn't think—I swear I didn't think—"

You turned, grabbing your bag. Your jacket.

"Please," he whispered. "Don't leave."

You looked at him then. Really looked.

And said, "You should've thought about that before."

The door shut quietly behind you.

And Rafe didn't follow.

He didn't speak again.

Didn't move.

Just sat there, staring at the spot you'd stood in like he could still see you.

And under his breath, again—

"...What have I done."