Drew Starkey Imagines

I Care

The familiar crunch of gravel beneath your tires sent a shiver down your spine as you pulled up to the Cameron estate. You'd imagined this moment a hundred times—returning after all this time. It was supposed to be for a couple weeks, maybe a month. Just a break. A reset. That's what you told Rafe when you left.

But one month turned into an entire summer. And before you knew it, you were gone until October.

The air felt heavier here. You hadn't even stepped out of your car yet, but the weight of everything was already sinking in. With a shaky breath, you climbed out, shutting the door behind you softly. The house loomed ahead—elegant, pristine, cold. Just like you remembered.

You walked up to the door like muscle memory, your hand hesitating just a moment before knocking. Three soft raps. Then silence.

When the door opened, it wasn't the Rafe you remembered. Not exactly.

His blue eyes locked on yours immediately, widening with something between disbelief and awe. His lips parted slightly, like he couldn't decide whether to say your name or hold it in. Tears welled up in his eyes, and for a second, you saw it—adoration. Pure, unfiltered love. It hit you like a punch to the gut.

But just as quickly as it came, it vanished.

His jaw clenched. He blinked the tears away like they offended him. And then, he turned.

"Rafe—please—"

But he was already walking away, retreating inside like your presence burned him.

You followed without thinking, heart pounding. "Please, Rafe. You know I wasn't happy."

He stopped in the middle of the foyer, fists clenched at his sides. Slowly, he turned to face you.

"Oh, you weren't happy?" His voice was bitter, laced with something cold and sharp. "That's rich. You think disappearing without a word for 6 months fixes that?"

"I thought it would be better for both of us—"

"No," he snapped. "You thought it would be easier for you."

You flinched.

"I waited for you," he said, stepping closer. "Do you know how many times I checked my phone? How many nights I stayed awake thinking you'd walk through that damn door?" His voice cracked. "But you didn't. Not once."

Tears stung your eyes. "I didn't know how to come back. I didn't think I was wanted anymore."

He laughed—a hollow, bitter sound. "Please don't act like you care about me."

That shattered something in you.

You shook your head, voice trembling. "Don't say that. I was there for everything, Rafe. I was there when you were figuring out your trust fund, when you didn't know who to trust, when the parties got too wild and everyone else was only there for the clout."

He didn't speak, but his breathing was heavy.

"I was there at every gala," you continued. "Every yacht party. Every charity dinner your dad made you attend. I stood by you even when I felt like I was disappearing."

"Then why did you leave?" he snapped.

"Because I was disappearing!" you cried. "My whole adult life has been about you. Supporting you. Loving you. Trying to keep you afloat when you were breaking under the pressure of everyone else's expectations. And I didn't regret it. Not once. But I needed to find me again. I just—didn't know it would mean losing you."

His face shifted—anger giving way to pain, then to something softer, something that made it harder to breathe.

"Now I'm the one who screwed up," you whispered. "I know that. I left when you needed me. And I stayed gone because I thought you'd be better off without me."

Silence.

"I just need you to care about me enough to try," you said, the words trembling from your lips.

Tears were pooling in Rafe's eyes again, but this time he didn't blink them away. He let them fall.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked. "I care."

The sincerity in his voice nearly brought you to your knees.

"I care," he repeated, stepping closer, a tear rolling down his cheek. "You think I could ever stop?"

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as your tears fell freely. He was in front of you now, close enough to touch.

"I tried to hate you," he admitted, voice low. "I tried to erase you from everything. But I couldn't. Every room, every song, every scent—you were there. In every damn thing."

"I never stopped loving you," you whispered.

He closed the distance, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was afraid you'd vanish again. Your face buried into his shoulder as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I care," he said again, softer now. "So much it makes me sick."

You felt his lips brush against the top of your head, then your temple, and then—finally—your lips met his.

It wasn't desperate. It was slow. Meaningful. Like the words you both had been too afraid to say were bleeding through that kiss. His hands cradled your face, yours tangled in his hair, and for a moment, nothing else existed.

Just you and him.

And the long overdue truth finally settling between you.

⸻

Later That Night

You sat curled up on the couch, one of Rafe's hoodies draped over your frame. He was beside you, legs spread lazily, his fingers intertwined with yours.

Neither of you had said much since that moment in the foyer, but it didn't feel awkward. It felt like healing.

"I thought about coming to find you," he said suddenly. "A hundred times."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I thought if I saw you and you didn't want me anymore...it'd break me."

You looked over at him. "That's how I felt about coming back."

He gave a soft, sad laugh. "We're idiots."

"Yeah," you agreed, leaning your head against his shoulder. "But maybe we still have a shot at figuring this out."

His grip on your hand tightened. "I want to."

You looked up at him. "Even if I'm still figuring me out?"

"As long as it's with me," he said. "I don't care where we go, how long it takes. I just need you in it."

Tears welled up again, but this time they didn't sting. They felt freeing.

"I'm in it," you said. "This time, I'm not going anywhere."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours again—gentler this time. Like a promise.

A new start.

Maybe everything had to break for you both to see what was real. And now that you had—it wasn't going anywhere.

Not this time.