Drew Starkey Imagines

Afraid to Love, Afraid to Lose

You and Rafe had mastered the art of loving each other quietly.

Too quietly.

At first, it felt safe — the way you both danced around the hard conversations, the sharp edges. You swallowed your worries. He swallowed his. You smiled through unease, told yourself this is just how he is, and he told himself she's fine, she'd say something if she wasn't.

But silence doesn't mean peace.
It just means pressure.

And pressure always finds a way to explode.

It had been building for weeks — the late nights where Rafe came home wound tight and distant, the way his jaw clenched when you asked how he was doing, the way you pretended not to notice. The way you started holding back too, afraid that if you said the wrong thing, you'd be the final crack in something already fragile.

You didn't want to upset him.

He didn't want to scare you.

So instead, you both stayed quiet.

Until tonight.

It started small. It always does.

A comment about him not coming home last night.
A shrug from him that felt like dismissal.
Your voice tightening without permission.

"Can you not do that?" you snapped. "Just—act like nothing's wrong?"

Rafe laughed, sharp and humorless. "Nothing is wrong."

"That's a lie."

He turned to you then, eyes flashing. "You don't know what you're talking about."

And that was it.

The dam broke.

Weeks of swallowed emotions came crashing out at once — his anger spilling into raised voices, your hurt finally finding words. You accused him of shutting you out. He accused you of never saying what you actually wanted. Every sentence landed like a punch.

"I'm tired of guessing how you feel!" you yelled.

"Well, I'm tired of feeling like everything I do is wrong!"

"I wouldn't feel that way if you actually talked to me!"

"Oh, so this is my fault now?"

The words got uglier. Sharper. Louder.

You both said things you didn't mean but felt in the moment — fears dressed up as accusations, love twisted into anger. Your chest burned, tears blurring your vision as his voice echoed off the walls.

And then something inside you snapped.

"I can't do this right now," you said, voice shaking. "I need air."

Rafe scoffed. "So you're just gonna run?"

You grabbed your keys. "I'm leaving before we say something we can't take back."

"Yeah? Like you haven't already?"

That one hurt the most.

You didn't reply. You just walked out.

The night air was cold against your flushed skin as you got into your car, hands trembling as you started the engine. You pulled out fast, too fast, the tires biting into the pavement as you headed straight for the highway.

Your heart was pounding louder than the engine.

You told yourself you just needed space. Distance. A moment to breathe without his anger filling the room. The road stretched out in front of you, dark and endless, headlights slicing through the night as tears slipped down your cheeks.

You wiped them away angrily.

Then your phone lit up.

Rafe.

You ignored it.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel as you merged onto the highway, the hum of the road almost drowning out the ache in your chest.

Another call.

Ignored.

Your phone buzzed again — a text this time.

Please pull over.

You didn't.

Then, at a red light, you checked your rearview mirror.

Your stomach dropped.

His truck was behind you.

Too close. Too familiar.

Your phone rang again.

Third time.

You answered, voice sharp. "What, Rafe?"

"Don't hang up," he said quickly, breathless. "Please."

You stayed silent.

"I shouldn't have said what I said," he continued. "I'm not good at this — at talking — but you can't just disappear on me like that."

"I needed space," you whispered.

"I know. I just—" His voice broke, just slightly. "I can't lose you because I didn't know how to say I was scared."

That stopped you.

"Take the next exit," he said softly. "There's a gas station. Just—let's talk. Please."

You hesitated... then nodded, even though he couldn't see you.

The gas station was nearly empty, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as you parked a few spaces apart. You got out first, arms crossed tightly over your chest, trying to hold yourself together.

Rafe climbed out of his truck, eyes immediately finding you like a lifeline.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of you. "I don't know how to say things right," he admitted. "Every time I try, it comes out wrong, or angry, or like I don't care. But I do. God, I care too much."

Your throat tightened. "I didn't want to push you. I was scared if I told you how lonely I felt sometimes, you'd think I was asking for too much."

His expression shattered.

"Lonely?" he echoed. "I never wanted you to feel that way. I just didn't want you to see how messed up I am."

You laughed softly through tears. "Rafe, I already know you're messed up. I love you anyway."

He stepped closer, hands hovering like he wasn't sure he deserved to touch you. "I don't want us to be quiet wolves anymore," he said quietly. "Hurting each other just to survive."

That did it.

You closed the distance, hands fisting into his jacket as he pulled you in, forehead resting against yours. His breathing was uneven, heart pounding just as hard as yours.

"I'm not running," you murmured. "I just need you to meet me halfway."

He nodded, thumb brushing under your eye to wipe away a tear. "I can do that. I'll learn. Just... don't leave without me."

Your lips met his — desperate, heated, full of everything unsaid. It wasn't gentle. It was real. The kind of kiss that tasted like relief and apology and wanting all at once.

When you finally pulled back, the night felt quieter.

Safer.

You weren't fixed. Not completely. But you were together — choosing to stay, choosing to talk, choosing to fight for each other instead of against.

And sometimes, that's enough to survive the dark.