The night was quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind of silence that made it hard to breathe. That made the dark feel heavy.

I turned in bed again, my hands gripping the edge of Rafe’s hoodie that I’d hidden under my pillow. It still smelled like him. Like warmth. Like safety. Like everything I didn’t think I deserved.

I wanted to sleep. I really did. I was so tired—my body still sore from yesterday, my head spinning from everything that happened. I had fainted at school today. In front of everyone. And Rafe… he had picked me up like I weighed nothing. Held me so gently, like I was something breakable. Something important.

I was embarrassed. I hated being seen like that. Weak. Small.

But he was so careful with me, so kind, that I couldn’t help it—I kept reaching for him without even meaning to.

Now, lying alone in the dark, I tried to hold on to that feeling. Of Rafe’s arms. Of his voice.

My eyes started to close. Sleep finally began to pull me under—

Then I heard it.

Voices. Muffled at first. Then louder. Sharper.

I sat up fast. My heart already racing.

It was them.

My parents.

Arguing. Fighting.

I slipped out of bed, the wooden floor cold against my bare feet, and moved to the door. Pressed my ear against it. I pressed my ear against it. Words came like slaps—accusations, demands

My father’s voice was slurred and angry. My mother’s was shakier, but she was shouting back. They were fighting. Yelling.

I hadn’t heard them argue like this in a long time.

When I was younger, she used to protect me. She would fight him when he tried to hurt me. But over time, she stopped. Now they only fought about money. Or how much he drank.

I should’ve stayed in my room.

Should’ve closed my eyes, covered my ears.

But I didn’t.

I opened the door anyway.  Just a crack.

Just enough to see the living room.

My mom was standing there, shoulders stiff, her face pale in defiance.

My dad’s face was red, twisted in rage. He looked wild.

Then he turned.

And he saw me.

Shockingly, my father never hit my mother. He would always take it out on me.

His eyes lit up—like he found the perfect target. Like he remembered I was there, and now he needed someone to hurt. Someone smaller. Someone who wouldn’t fight back.

I slammed the door shut. Locked it with shaking hands.

His footsteps thudded down the hallway.

Getting closer.

No no no—

I ran to the window. Yanked it up hard. It jammed halfway, but I squeezed through anyway. My shirt tore on the frame. I hit the ground outside and didn’t stop.

I ran.

Branches scratched my arms as I tore through the side yard. My breath came fast and sharp. I didn’t know where I was going.

I just knew I had to get away.

He was always worse after fights like this. If I stayed, he wouldn’t stop. Not until morning.

I couldn’t do it again. I just couldn’t.

The street was dark and cold. I didn’t have shoes. My feet slapped the pavement with every step. I didn’t care. I didn’t look back.

I just ran.

And then I thought of Rafe.

My chest tightened. My legs moved faster.

I didn’t have my phone. Didn’t have a jacket. My pajamas were too thin for the cold. But none of that mattered.

I just needed to get to him.

Please. Please let him be home.

When I turned onto his street, I could barely see. My vision blurred with tears and sweat. The streetlights felt too bright. I tripped once, scraped my knee, but I didn’t stop.

Finally, I reached his house. I stumbled up the steps and raised my hand.

I knocked.

Hard.

Waited.

Knocked again.

The door opened. Slowly.

It was his aunt.

She stared at me like she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Her eyes went wide. I must’ve looked awful—barefoot, shaking, hair messy, clothes torn.

Her mouth opened like she was going to say something, but she didn’t at first.

Then she frowned. “Who…?”

She looked at me closer. Something clicked in her face—like she kind of recognized me. Maybe from the school office. But she still looked unsure.

I couldn’t speak. My throat was tight. My lips were trembling.

I forced one word out.

“Please,” I whispered. “Is Rafe here?”

RAFE'S POV:

My heart had already been hammering with worry since the moment I’d messaged Eli and he hadn’t replied. That silence wasn’t normal. Not from him. Not anymore. My gut had been twisting itself into knots all evening. Something felt wrong, like a storm had settled under my skin.

Then I heard it.

The front door—sudden, frantic. A sharp knock, like someone had been running. Then a voice. Shaky. Breathless. Half-broken.

I didn’t even think. I stormed downstairs, nearly tripping over the last step. My feet hit the floor hard, loud, echoing. My aunt stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding it half-open like she didn’t know whether to shut it or let the cold in. Her face was pale and confused, eyes wide.

“Someone’s here,” she said, not quite meeting my eyes. “It’s that boy… the one from your school.”

That boy.
My chest seized.
Eli.

I pushed past her, my hands shoving the door open wider, and then—

I nearly stumbled.

There he was.

Barefoot.

Just thin pajama pants clinging to his shivering legs, soaked from sweat, I couldn’t tell. His curls stuck to his forehead like he’d been running through a nightmare. His lips were cracked. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself, trembling like a leaf caught in the wind.

But his eyes.

Oh god—his eyes.

They were wide and red and terrified, like someone had ripped all the color out of them. He looked like a ghost. Like he’d barely made it here alive. My throat closed. I couldn’t speak.

“Eli?” I choked out, barely breathing. “Oh god.”

He swayed, and I lunged forward just in time to catch him.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he whispered, voice splitting open with every word. “He—he was coming at me again. I didn’t have my phone. I ran. I didn’t know what to do.”

I held him tighter. He was freezing. Shaking so hard it felt like his bones would break.

“You did right,” I whispered, pulling him close. “You did exactly right.”

I lifted him into my arms, like he weighed nothing, like he was something precious and fragile and I couldn’t bear to let him fall. My aunt stepped back, still confused, but I didn’t care. She didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. Only him.

Upstairs, in my room, I set him down gently on the bed. I wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, trying to warm him, to give him something solid to hold on to. He didn’t stop shaking. His eyes were glossy and wild. Then—

He broke.

He just crumbled against me like a wave crashing on the shore. Sobs tore from his chest, loud and raw and messy. His hands clung to me like I was the only thing keeping him from slipping away.

“I don’t want to go back,” Eli cried, the words barely holding together. “Please, I don’t want to go back.”

A knife twisted in my chest.

He is not going back.

He is not going anywhere near that monster.

“You won’t,” I said, holding him like a lifeline. “You won’t, I swear to god. Stay here. Stay as long as you need. As long as you want. Forever.”

Eli’s breath hitched.

“You can’t let him find me,” he whispered, voice broken and hoarse. “Rafe, you can’t let him—”

“I won’t,” I said instantly. “I’ll protect you. Always. No matter what.”

I could feel my own hands trembling. But I kept holding him. Right—we had to report this. We had to do something. He couldn’t keep living like this.

I kissed the top of his head, my lips brushing his damp curls. “We should call the police, baby,” I murmured. “We should tell them everything. What he’s done to you.”

Eli’s whole body stiffened.

“No,” he said quickly, panicked. “No. Please, Rafe. Don’t. You can’t.”

“Eli—”

“No!” he cried, his sobs turning frantic. “I know I should. I do. But—my mom. I don’t want her to get hurt. She won’t protect me, but I—I can’t drag her into this. And I don’t want them to take me away. I don’t want to go anywhere else. I just want to stay here. With you.”

My heart cracked again.

Why is he so innocent? So good? Why is he protecting someone who didn’t protect him?

I cupped his face, thumbs brushing his wet cheeks. “But what about you, Eli? He almost—he could have again hurt you—”

“Promise me,” he begged, his nails digging into my shirt. “Please. Just promise me you won’t report it. I’ll do whatever you say. Just—don’t. Not yet.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. My eyes burned.

“I don’t want to promise that,” I said, voice shaking. “I hate him for what he’s done to you. He can’t keep getting away with it.”

Eli crumpled harder into me, sobbing again.

“Please… you don’t understand.”

The sound of his voice—so shattered, so small—broke something in me. I held him tighter, pressing my forehead to his temple, whispering anything I could to calm him.

“Okay,” I said finally, when I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Okay. I promise. For now. But if he ever touches you again—if he ever comes near you—I’m not staying quiet. I swear to god, Eli. For me, only you matter. No one else. Not your mother. No one.”

Eli barely nodded, face still buried in my chest. His whole body sagged with exhaustion. He looked down at his feet—scraped, raw, stained with blood and dirt.

I followed his gaze. My breath hitched.

“Let me clean you up, okay?” I whispered.

He nodded, silent.

I grabbed a warm cloth and some antiseptic. Kneeling down in front of him, I lifted each foot gently into my lap. He winced when I dabbed at the wounds.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I murmured. “I’m trying to be careful.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, barely audible. “I’m just… sorry I’m such a mess.”

That made me look up fast.

“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “Don’t say that. Not now. Not ever.”

I set the cloth aside and took his hand, wrapping mine around it.

“You’re not a mess. You’re hurt. That’s not your fault. And I hate that you’re hurting.”

He didn’t answer. Just leaned back into me, burying his face in my chest again. I wrapped both arms around him, rocking him gently, whispering soft things in his ear—“It’s okay,” “You’re safe,” “Just breathe.”

Eventually, I started humming. Just a soft, low sound. Something steady. Something he could hold onto.

We stayed like that for a long time. Tangled together on the bed. His sobs finally quieted into shaky breaths. I brushed my fingers along his back, slow and steady, until his body stopped trembling.

I tilted his chin up gently.

“There’s my Eli.”

He blinked at me, eyes red and swollen.

“You’re safe here,” I said. “I love you, okay? Even if we don’t name it yet. Even if it’s messy. I love you.”

Eli’s breath caught. He looked like he might cry again—but then he leaned forward.

I met him halfway.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. Our teeth bumped. His lips trembled. But it was real. It was soft and scared and desperate. And it was everything.

I kissed him slowly, cupping the back of his head like he might float away. When we pulled apart, I pressed my forehead to his, eyes closed. His hand slipped around the back of my neck, holding me close.

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” he whispered.

“You won’t,” I said immediately. “Never again.”

We lay down, pulling the blanket over us. He curled up against me, small and warm. I held him like I was afraid the world would try to take him away again. My hand moved in slow circles on his back. His face was so close. Our legs tangled.

“Eli,” I murmured.

He looked up. Our noses brushed.

I kissed him again. Slower this time. More sure. Just lips and warmth and quiet.

He kissed me back. Longer. Softer. My hand slid to his waist. He pressed closer. The kiss deepened, gentle and clumsy, like we were figuring it out together.

When we broke apart, he was breathless.

“I like kissing you,” he said.

I smiled and pressed a kiss to his nose. “Good. Because I’m always gonna do it.”

He laughed—a small, broken sound—and hid his face in my chest again. I felt his breathing slow. Mine did too.

We fell asleep like that.
Tangled together.

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