Drew Starkey Imagines

Flicker of You

The cold October night made the air feel crisp, sharp against your cheeks as you sat around the bonfire with your friends. The flames danced and flickered, casting warm orange and gold light across everyone's faces. You were nestled in between two of your best friends, feeling the comforting press of their shoulders on either side of you. Across from you, Rafe sat, the firelight playing across his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips when he smirked at something someone said. From his perspective, your face glowed as well, illuminated by the fire's warmth, your eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

The group of guys and girls laughed and joked, the scent of burning wood mingling with the faint tang of autumn leaves. Someone suggested playing truth or dare, and the circle leaned in with excitement. Your friend looked at you with a mischievous grin and asked, "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," you said, smiling.

The girl's eyes sparkled. "Abs or biceps?" she asked, voice teasing.

The group went silent, waiting for your answer, and you smirked, feeling the playful energy in the air. "A man who yearns...and biceps," you said, letting the words roll off your tongue.

The girls erupted in laughter, clutching their stomachs and trying to catch their breath between giggles. But Rafe...Rafe stayed staring at you, his gaze fixed, intense.

One of the guys, a little oblivious, asked, "What's yearning?"

Everyone turned to him like he'd just said something absurd. And he had, really—but that was your cue. You leaned forward slightly, letting the firelight cast soft shadows across your face as you began to explain. "Yearning," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, "it's a deep longing for something...someone. It's that ache in your chest when you want to be near someone or understand them, when your mind keeps going back to them even when they're not around. It's beautiful and desperate and quiet all at once, but it's what makes attention, love, and connection feel...alive. It's the kind of thing that makes a man thoughtful, makes him notice details no one else would, makes him...human."

Everyone listened, rapt, even the guy who had asked the question. He nodded, not fully understanding but catching onto the gravity of what you said.

Now it was your turn to ask someone. You pointed to the guy who had asked about yearning. "Truth or dare?"

Without hesitation, he said, "Dare," like it was a no-brainer.

"I dare you to call someone from your family—like your mom—and sing a song chosen by the group," you said, grinning.

He groaned theatrically but agreed. "Okay, what song?"

Someone shouted from across the circle, "'Candy Shop' by 50 Cent!"

The group burst into laughter again, and he dialed his brother instead of his mom. You couldn't help but glance at Rafe, who had risen from his spot and whispered to his friend next to him, "I'll be back." You watched him walk away, the firelight catching the lines of his back as he disappeared from the circle.

Your attention shifted back to the guy on the phone. "I'll take you to the candy shop... I'll let you lick the lollipop..." he sang, voice cracking in all the right ways, making everyone howl with laughter. His brother's confused voice came through the phone: "What the hell are you, drunk?"

Everyone doubled over laughing, and his brother finally hung up.

The next round ended, and the group fell into casual chatter. Your friend next to you leaned closer. "Where did Rafe go?" she asked.

"I don't know," you admitted, tugging at your hoodie. "I'll go look for him."

You stepped away from the warmth of the fire, the crunch of dried leaves under your feet, and followed the direction Rafe had gone. The soft hum of the night surrounded you, a mixture of distant laughter, the rustle of trees, and the occasional crack of a twig underfoot. You found him sitting on the bed of his truck, staring down at the ground, fingers absentmindedly playing with his ring.