Drew Starkey Imagines

What If I'm Not Okay?

You stood in front of your bedroom mirror, adjusting your dress for the third time. Your heart fluttered with anticipation. Rafe had invited you over for dinner at Tannyhill tonight — the first "real" family dinner you were attending since the two of you got serious. Normally, this might've been a milestone to get excited about. But in truth, the thought of sharing a table with Ward Cameron made your skin crawl. And Rose? You could take her or leave her. Mostly leave her.

Still, you were going for Rafe. Because Rafe was different with you. Because Rafe made you feel like the world paused when he looked at you. And because lately, he hadn't really been himself. The least you could do was show up — show him you were here, no matter what.

You sprayed a soft perfume across your collarbone and grabbed your phone. "Here goes nothing," you whispered to yourself as you left the house.

⸻

Tannyhill was its usual grandiose self. Beautiful. Pristine. Empty, somehow.

You rang the doorbell, and Rose opened the door, wearing her polished smile — too polished. "Oh, you're here. Come in."

You stepped inside, your eyes instantly scanning the room. "Where's Rafe?"

"Haven't seen him in a while," she said, barely glancing at you.

That sent a ripple of unease through your chest.

"Ward," Rose called, turning her head into the hallway. "Have you seen Rafe?"

Ward's voice echoed from his office: "Nope. Not for a bit."

You nodded, trying to stay calm. You pulled out your phone and texted Rafe. Then you called him. Straight to voicemail.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty.

By the time the front door creaked open, your fingers were gripping your phone tightly. Rafe walked in slowly, his hair a mess, his eyes barely open. He looked... drained. Like the world had wrung every last bit of energy from him and left him hollow.

"Rafe," you breathed.

He didn't respond, just walked past you, collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh. You followed him, sitting next to him, placing your hand gently on his knee. Ward took a seat on the other side of him, casual as ever.

Rose clattered in the kitchen, plating what you imagined was some five-star dinner that, in this moment, couldn't matter less.

You looked at Rafe, really looked at him. Something in your chest ached at the sight. "Are you okay?" you asked softly, heart pounding.

His eyes met yours briefly, before falling away. "What if I'm not okay?" he murmured, voice rough like gravel.

Ward chuckled lightly, clearly not paying attention. "What? Sorry?"

Rafe turned his face away, the pain catching in his throat as he said, louder this time: "I'm not okay."

You stared at him, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. And then you turned to Ward, furious.

"He is telling you he isn't okay. Why can't you listen to your son?"

Ward raised an eyebrow, surprised. "He does this all the time."

You blinked. "What do you not understand about your son trying to tell you he needs help!?"

Rafe leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. You could see the tremble in his shoulders.

Ward leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, defensive. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Rafe suddenly stood, sharply, like something in him snapped. "That's enough!" he shouted. "Y/N is right!"

The silence after his words was deafening. Rose poked her head out from the kitchen, unsure whether to step in or not. You reached for Rafe's hand, and he gripped it tightly like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He looked at you with eyes that held more emotion than any words could capture. You gave his hand a squeeze and said, "Come on. Let's go upstairs."

⸻

Rafe's room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, his bed unmade. He sank into the edge of the mattress and stared at the floor like it held all the answers.

You sat beside him again, letting the silence stretch until he spoke.

"I don't know what's happening to me," he admitted, voice shaking. "Some days I feel like I'm drowning and nobody notices. I try to hold it together, but... it's like I'm unraveling. Slowly."

You reached for his face, turning him toward you. "You don't have to go through this alone."

He let the tears fall then, slow and silent. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could. "I've got you," you whispered. "I've always got you."

He leaned his forehead against your shoulder, and for a while, neither of you spoke. It was just the sound of quiet breathing, the weight of love, and the bitter ache of pain finally let out.

⸻

Downstairs, Rose was setting the table. You could smell roasted vegetables, something lemony, probably salmon. You stepped into the kitchen, Rafe right behind you.

"I'm sorry," you said gently. "We won't be staying for dinner. I'm sure it's amazing, Rose."

She gave a brief nod, confused but not asking questions. Ward said nothing as you passed him. You didn't look his way.

You and Rafe walked out the front door hand in hand, the cool air wrapping around you like a reset button.

⸻

In the car, you buckled your seatbelt, glancing over at him. Rafe stared out the windshield, your hands on the steering wheel but not moving.

"So what now?" he asked quietly.

You smiled at him, reaching over to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. "You're coming to stay with me and my family for a while. And we're going to get you the help you need."

He blinked at you. "Won't your parents disapprove?"

You laughed softly. "I'm sure they won't be thrilled about my boyfriend sleeping under the same roof as me, but once I explain the reason, they'll understand."

He turned toward you then, his eyes less heavy than before, his lips curved into something resembling hope. "Thank you."

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek — soft, slow, reassuring. "Of course. I'll always be by your side."

And for the first time in a long time, Rafe let himself believe that might be true.