Rafe's POV

I woke before Eli did. The sun was still quiet, a dim gray pressing through the curtains. He was curled in toward me, legs tangled, his hand soft and slack where it rested against my chest. His breathing was shallow but steady. There was something fragile about it. As if any sudden movement might cause him to wake and shatter into a thousand pieces.He is so beautiful.

And God, I didn’t want him to wake up in a world that had hurt him again.

I lay there for a while, watching the ceiling, listening to the silence. His hair tickled under my chin, and every so often he'd shift in his sleep, brow twitching like he was still dreaming something that wouldn’t let go of him.

I hummed softly “it's ok, sweetheart” I whispered. It's as if he heard me in his sleep, he calmed down.

I kissed the crown of his head, soft, not to wake him, just to make him feel safe, or maybe to reassure myself that he is actually here in my arms. I could still hear his voice from last night, cracking with fear and shame, all the ways he said he was broken. And then the way he clung to me like he didn’t want to exist unless I was touching him. We had fallen asleep like that. Skin to skin.

I didn’t know what to do with the feeling that clutched my chest like a fist. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this—or maybe it was. Maybe it always did when someone you loved was breaking. I won’t let him go now. Not when he has a monster waiting for him at home. Not when he was so scared that he ran away bare foot and without his phone.

He had begged me yesterday how he didn't want to go back, and I was sure as hell that he wasn't going back, even if it meant burning everything down.

He stirred, then. Blinked awake slowly, his lashes flickering like a butterfly's wings. When he realized where he was, when his eyes focused on me, I felt the current pass through him.

"Hey," I whispered, brushing my thumb under his eye.

He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at me. That look broke me a little. Like he couldn’t believe I was real. Like he was waiting for the moment I’d disappear.

"I don't want to get you up, when you look this beautiful but we have to get up," I said eventually, when he didn’t move. "You should eat something."

His mouth opened, then closed again. He curled into me more, shaking his head faintly.

"Eli."

"Don’t want to."

"I know," I said gently, wrapping my arm around him. "But you need to. Just a little. For me."

He didn’t answer.

I waited.

"You wanna stay here? Just rest? We don’t have to do anything. Not today."

He shook his head into my chest. "Don’t wanna move."

"Okay." I kissed his forehead. "You don’t have to. Just... maybe eat something later?"

His lips parted like he was going to argue. He let out a breath that sounded like surrender. I waited until he sat up slowly, wincing as he did, his body clearly still sore. He made a soft noise but didn’t resist.

I pulled on a hoodie and offered him one of mine too. He stared at it for a second before slipping it on. It looked too big on him. I liked it that way. How many hoodies have I given him? I should give him more. Drown him in my closet.

Come on," I said, brushing his hand with mine. "Let’s go see if there’s anything in the kitchen. I’ll make toast or something.”

The moment we stepped into the kitchen, we both stopped dead when we saw her.

My aunt was there.

I didn’t know what I expected—maybe that she’d already left for work, or still asleep, or just... not giving a shit like always. But she was standing by the stove, cracking eggs into a pan like this was a normal morning. Like last night didn’t happen. Like Eli didn’t show up at our door in tears, with his world falling apart.

She turned when she heard us. Her eyes flicked from me to Eli—sweeping over the way he was wrapped in my hoodie still, the way his arms were folded tight across his chest , protecting himself, the way his face looked hollow with sleep and fear.

“Good morning,” she said.

I braced myself. For indifference. For the usual disinterest. For something cold.

But instead, she gave Eli a quiet, soft look. “I made breakfast. I didn’t know what you two liked, so I’m just making eggs and toast. Eli, would you like some?”

Eli blinked at her like he didn’t understand the words. Neither did I.

He hovered behind me, uncertain, his fingers tightening around my wrist.

“It’s okay,” I whispered to him. "I'm right here."

He looked at me, then at her.

"Uh... okay," he said, barely audible.

I wanted to scream. Not at him. At her. At the entire goddamn house. Where was this woman when I needed someone? When I was breaking down after my parents died , when I used to be bullied? But I couldn’t say any of that. Not with Eli standing beside me, fragile as porcelain.

We sat at the table. I watched her move around the kitchen, setting plates down, not pushing conversation. She even poured juice. The glass in front of Eli trembled when he reached for it.

He barely touched the food at first. Picked at the toast like it might bite him back. But when I nudged him, just lightly, he took a small bite. Then another.

My aunt didn’t ask anything.

I didn’t trust it.

I kept expecting her to say something sharp. Something dismissive. But she didn’t. She kept her voice low. She offered more tea. She told Eli, quietly, that he could stay here. As long as he needed.

Eli nodded faintly. Didn’t meet her eyes.

I wanted to ask her why.

Why now. Why after so long pretending I didn’t exist in this house. Why did she suddenly care now that it wasn’t just me anymore? Why was Eli different?

But I didn’t. Because I looked at Eli’s face, pale and drawn, and I didn’t want to overwhelm him.

Does she see him? Does she finally see that someone around her is hurt?

She sat across from us, sipping her own coffee. She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t ask Eli questions. Weird. Shouldn't she be asking questions after seeing him like that last night?

I don't recognize her.

And that—more than anything—made me want to scream.

My aunt cleared her throat. "You two don’t need to go to school today. It's fine to stay home."

Eli looked up, startled. "I... I want to go."

My aunt raised a brow but nodded slowly. "Okay. If you're sure."

I stared at him as she left the room. "You sure about that?"

He gave a small shrug. "I don't want to sit here all day thinking. I need something to distract me."

God. The way he said that. Like silence was something that could kill him too.

“Should I distract you?” 

He went red, his eyes locked in mine. “Y-you are embarrassing m-me”

I chuckled softly. He changed the topic. 

"Why is she being nice to me?" he asked.

I clear my throat. I shook my head. "I don’t know. She’s... not like this usually. Not with me."

He looked scared. Not of her, but of hope. Like being cared for was more terrifying than being hurt.

I reached over and touched his wrist. "You don’t have to talk to her. You don’t owe her anything. Or anyone. Okay?"

He nodded. Swallowed hard.

We went back to my room.

We got dressed slowly. I helped him pick out clothes that didn’t rub against his bruises. He didn’t want to talk. I didn’t push. Just brushed his hair back, kissed the side of his head, and let him lean on me as we walked out the door.

All through the ride, he was quiet. I held his hand under his hoodie sleeve. He squeezed it once, twice.

I was pretending to be strong. I had to be for him. But inside, I was scared. Not just for him. For both of us. Because I knew this wasn’t over. His father was still out there. And trauma didn’t just vanish when you left a house. I was satisfied enough that he didn't ask to go home. 

If Eli wanted to keep going, then I would walk every step beside him.

Even if we were limping.

Even if the world never gave us peace.

We had each other.

Eli's POV 

We walked to school together,quietly. His aunt had gone to work. I never thought that she would tell me that I can stay as long as I want. I had thought of going home back , but I knew that it's gonna get worse. He saw me running out. He probably checked my phone too which meant he saw my messages with rafe. And if I go back— No, I won't, at least for now.

I love rafe. For the first time in my life, I have loved someone so much that I want to live for him.

The bruises hadn’t faded. Some had only deepened.

My hands were shaking again.

I sat at my desk, curled inward, trying to look smaller than I already felt. The long sleeves helped hide most of it, but the slight swelling on my cheek was harder to disguise. I kept my head down, eyes on the scarred wood of the desk. Rafe was beside me, silent but comforting, his thigh pressing against mine beneath the desk like a quiet thread. I couldn’t look at him. Not here. Not like this.

He hadn’t left my side all morning.

Not when I walked through the school gate with hunched shoulders and a hoodie drawn up tight. Not when I winced getting into my seat. Not when I flinched at the sound of the bell.

I think part of me was still in last night. Still back in my room. Still hearing the screaming.

I don’t know what I expected today to be. Easier? Normal? Just another day of pretending?

I was stupid. I am stupid. 

The bruises on my face weren’t subtle, no matter how much I wanted to vanish. It wasn't the result of just one day. The bruises and scars have been made up over years. I used to hide them but now that I stopped, I looked the worst. I caught the looks from other students. The too-long stares. The whispers. Rafe had squeezed my hand under the desk, like he was trying to pull me back into my body. But I was barely holding on.

And then the knock came at the door.

Our homeroom teacher poked her head in, her eyes flicking over the class before settling on me.

“Eli Parker,” she said, too gently. “Come with me, please.”

My stomach sank. Why? Did father come here? Was he gonna drag me back? If they see him treating me like that, will they report him?

I stood up slowly. Shook. I let out a quite choked noise. I didn’t look at Rafe, but I felt him shift, felt his eyes on my back as I followed her out. His hands tightened on mine, rubbed my thumb then slowly untangled it from mine. 

 She didn’t speak until we were in the hallway, and then it was only to guide me to the nurse’s office.

The nurse was there already. I knew her. She was the one who had looked after me the day I passed out. The day Rafe carried me down the hall like I weighed nothing. The day he lies and she didn't believe him. Did she report it? No. No. No. 

They didn’t waste time.

“Parker” my teacher began, her tone soft but unwavering. “We’re worried about you.”

I said nothing. I lowered my head, my eyes fixed on the floor.

I felt her soft eyes on me “You told me you tripped the other day. But these… they’re not from falling, are they?”

I stared at a spot on the wall behind her. My breath was shallow. I don't want pity. 

“We want to help you,” the teacher added. “But we need the truth.”

My throat was dry. My fingers gripped the sleeves of my hoodie. I didn’t want to cry. My heart throbbed and begged me to tell them everything. But my mind stopped me. 

“I fell,” I said quietly. “I am clumsy. Very”

They exchanged a look.

“Eli…”

“I said I fell.”

The silence stretched. I felt it pressing down on me, heavy and choking. Don't cry. Don't cry. I close my eyes and I feel Rafe's warm hands around mine. 

“You can talk to us,” the nurse said. “Whatever’s happening at home—”

“There’s nothing happening,” I cut in, sharper than I meant to. “Can I go now?”

They didn’t believe me. I could see it in their faces. But they let me leave. Rafe. I need rafe. Where is he. I want him. But I also want to be away. I don't want to be seen like this— scared and vulnerable.

I walked out of the office, numb. My hands were still shaking. I walked , more like I ran. 

The back stairwell is cold.

The kind of cold that settles into your bones, even though it’s late spring and the air outside is soft with warmth. I sink down on the second step from the bottom, arms curled tight around my knees, my back against the painted brick wall. It smells faintly of old mop water and dust.

I heard loud footsteps and ragged breathing. Rafe found me at the back stairwell . I didn’t even know how he knew I’d be there. Maybe because he just knew me that well. Or maybe because he was the only place I felt safe.

He didn’t say anything when he saw me. But his eyes softened. He opened his mouth but then closed it. I saw the unspoken words in his eye— are you okay?

I collapsed into his arms.

The sobs came fast, violent, uncontrollable. I didn’t care who heard. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I don't need anyone. I only need him. I only want him.

“They asked me,” I choked out against his shirt. “They—they asked if he did this. And I wanted to tell them. I wanted to say yes. But I couldn’t—I couldn’t—”

Rafe held me tighter. His hands were on my back, my hair, his lips pressed to the top of my head.He just sits beside me and pulls me into him like we’ve done this a hundred times before. His arms wrap around my shoulders, firm but gentle, and I curl into his chest like something smaller than I am. Like something breakable.

“I was scared,” I whispered, tears burning my throat. “I was so scared.” 

“I know,” he murmured. “God, Eli, I know.”

His voice broke. I felt it in my chest. The way he held me like I was something breakable and precious. Like if he let go, I’d disappear.

“They asked me,” I sob. “They brought me in. The homeroom teacher. The nurse. They said they were worried, and they saw the bruises—my face—Rafe, I didn’t know what to say.”

He tightens his grip like he wants to take the pain out of my chest and hold it for me. Like he’d carry it if he could.

“What did you tell them?”

“I lied.” My voice is wrecked. “I t-told them I fell. I said I h-hit my face on a doorframe.”

“Did they believe you?”

I shake my head against his shoulder. “N-No. I don’t think they did.”

He inhaled sharply. There’s a beat of silence before Rafe says, “They’ll ask again, El. You know that, right? They’re not going to let this go.”

I nod. A silent, shuddering nod. “I know.”

I don’t tell him how much that terrifies me.

Because if I tell the truth, everything will fall apart. My father will go to jail. My mother—whatever’s left of her—will be forced to look at what she let happen. And me? I’ll be the boy who broke everything.

“I wanted to tell them,” I repeat, like maybe if I say it enough times, it’ll erase the shame. I am a coward.“I was so close. I even opened my mouth to say it. But I saw his face. In my head. I could see what he’d do if I told. What he’d do to her. Even if she doesn’t care, I can’t—”

“Eli,” Rafe cuts in gently, his voice thick, “it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“But it feels like it is.” My voice cracks again. “Everything does. Even now. Sitting here with y-you. It’s like I don’t deserve this. Like I-I don’t deserve you.”

Rafe goes still. He let out a strangled, broken, pained sound.

Then he cups my face, thumb brushing just under the scar fon my cheek, his gaze fixed on mine. “Don’t say that,” he says, and there’s something fierce in his voice now. “Don’t you dare say that.”

I blink at him, breath trembling. “But it’s true—”

“No, it’s not,” he says, shaking his head. “You deserve better than what you’ve had. You deserve to be safe. To be loved. And I swear to God, Eli, I’ll remind you of that every damn day until you believe it.”

“I hate this,” I whispered. “I hate being afraid all the time.”

“You don’t deserve this. None of it. You should’ve never had to lie today. You should’ve never had to go back there at all.”

I tilted my face up, eyes swollen, throat raw. He was staring at me like I was everything he couldn’t protect.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” His voice was rough, low. “You did what you had to do to survive. I just wish surviving didn’t mean hurting like this.”

His hands are so gentle. His eyes are angry, but not at me. Never at me.

“I love you,” I whisper before I can stop myself. I whimper.

It slips out, naked and quiet and real. My heart seizes like it’s terrified of what I’ve just done. I shake my head slightly.

But Rafe doesn’t flinch. 

His eyes go wide, then soft, then shining. His eyes fill with tears, then it slips out. No, didn't meant to make him cry. No. No. No. I tried wiping his tears with my sleeves.

“N-No, rafe. Don't cry. P-please. It's ok, you don't have to say it back—

He pulls me closer, forehead pressed to mine, voice like a prayer. 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

He kisses me.

It’s soft at first, like he’s waiting for permission. My lips part around the gasp caught in my throat, and suddenly we’re both holding on tighter, like we’ll drown if we let go. It’s not rushed. Not frantic. But desperate in a different way. Tender. Starving. My fingers tangle in his hoodie, knuckles white. His hand cradles my jaw like he’s memorizing the shape of me.

And I kiss him back like it’s the only thing keeping me alive. I clung to him like I was drowning, like if I let go I’d sink back into the dark. And I don't want to go back in that darkness. 

When we finally pulled apart, I was crying again. Just a little. But it's different now. His forehead pressed to mine. Both of us, breathless. 

“We’ll figure this out,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do it alone. I love you, Eli. I mean it. Engrave it in your heart, my love. Cause i am never leaving you”

And for the first time that day, I let myself believe something. Him.

___________________________________

Any thoughts?

A long chapter for y'all since i delayed it. LMAO. ITS KINDA BORING THO.

Love y'all 🫶🏻✨