(Guys the texts written like this are the phone texts between eli and rafe)

---

The walk home felt like dragging chains behind me.

Every step echoed with a warning. Every passing second made my chest tighten like a rope was being pulled tighter around my ribs. My feet moved because they had to—not because I wanted them to. I wanted to disappear. To never reach that door again. To vanish in the stillness of Rafe’s room where I was just Eli—just a boy with a voice, and not a bruise waiting to happen.

But the closer I got, the louder the fear grew.

What if he was awake?

What if he noticed I was gone?

What if he was waiting—belt in hand, rage ready, fists curled?

The thoughts spiraled. They pressed in so hard I almost turned around.

My fingers trembled as I opened the door. It scraped against the lock, louder than it should have been. Too loud.

I was sure he’d come flying out of the shadows, drunk and furious, dragging me back in with fresh broken teeth and swollen lips.

But the door opened.

And the house was still.

Dim, like always. Silent.

The stench of stale beer clung to the air like rot. A normal day in hell.

Then I saw her.

My mom. In the kitchen. A cigarette burning low between her fingers, smoke curling toward the ceiling. Her back to me, until she turned. Her eyes met mine.

And for a second—I froze.

Not just from fear.

But because she looked at me. Not through me.

I opened my mouth. Tried to say something—anything.

“I—”

“He’s still sleeping,” she said.

Her voice was flat. Quiet. Like always. But it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t cruel.

Just... a warning.

“Don’t make noise.”

I blinked.

That was the most she’d said to me in weeks.

She turned away like I hadn’t existed at all. But the words stayed with me like a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “I won’t.”

And I ran.

I bolted up the stairs like my life depended on it. Because maybe it did.

I shoved the door shut. Locked it. Dragged the dresser in front of it until the legs scraped wood. My whole body was shaking. I could still feel the ghost of his fists on my skin, even if they hadn’t landed this time.

But they would. Next time.

Because there’s always a next time.

I sank to the floor. Curled up small. The world buzzed too loud in my ears.

Then—

Buzz.

My phone lit up in my lap.

Rafe:

You home? Safe?

My heart did something strange in my chest. Like it reached toward the screen, toward him. I typed in 

Yeah. I’m home. He’s asleep. Thanks.

A minute passed.

Then:

Wish you didn’t have to go back. Wish I could’ve kept you here.

Something shattered quietly inside me. The kind of break that doesn’t hurt until later.

Me too

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt the wetness on my cheeks. Silently. Like always.

------------------

I must’ve slept for hours. The kind of sleep where you don’t dream—you just vanish.

But even that didn’t last.

I woke up gasping. Drenched in sweat. My chest heaving like I’d been drowning.

The nightmare was still crawling on my skin.

He was in it.

Drunk. Furious. Screaming my name like it wasn’t mine—like it was something to beat out of me. His hand around my wrist. His breath hot with whiskey. My back hitting the wall. My mom just watching.

My voice—screaming, breaking, begging him to stop.

I couldn’t breathe. Why is he haunting me in my dreams too? Is reality not enough now?

I curled tighter under the blanket. Rafe’s hoodie was still wrapped around me. I clutched it like it could keep the dark away.

And then I did something stupid.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

I opened my phone. Found his name. Called.

One ring.

Two.

Three—

I panicked.

What was I thinking?

He’s asleep. He won’t answer. He shouldn’t—

“Eli?”

His voice.

Soft. Sleep-rough. Real.

I almost cried from the sound of it.

“I—sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you—”

“Don’t.” His voice sharpened, like the words mattered. “Don’t apologize. Are you okay? You don't sound okay”

I couldn’t lie. Not to him.

“I had a nightmare,” I said, barely audible. “It felt too real. Like he was in the room again.”

Silence for a second. Then the rustle of blankets.

“You want me to talk you down? Or just stay on?”

“Talk,” I said. “Please.” My voice sounded like I was begging and crying. 

There was a pause. Then:

“You ever notice how the moon looks lonelier in some places?”

It caught me off guard.

“What?”

“I read it once. That the moon looks the same, but feels lonelier depending on where you are.”

He makes me feel so warm. I breathed out a shaky laugh. “That’s... kind of stupid.”

You said talk,” he said, a smile in his voice. “I’m trying. I read it somewhere. Thought of you.”

“Of me?”

“You always look like you’re somewhere else when you look up at it. Like you’re waiting for it to tell you something.”

I swallowed. The lump in my throat ached. “You remember things too well.”

“Only the important things,” he said, soft.

My cheeks burned. I was glad he couldn’t see me.

I didn’t speak.

Then: “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel... worth something?”

There was silence. Then—

“Because you are.”

The words hit me like a wave. I am worth something? For him? 

“You say it like it’s easy to believe.”

“It should be.”

My voice cracked. “I don’t know how to believe that.”

“I can believe it for you,” he said, simple. So simple yet so comforting “Until you do.”

God.

How was he real?

“Rafe…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared in my life.”

“I am also scared for you”

“I’m always waiting for the next hit. The next scream. I go to sleep wondering if I’ll wake up hurt again.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And it kills me.”

“I feel like... if I stop being afraid, he lose. But if I keep being afraid, I lose myself.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just breathed with me. Like he was matching the rhythm of my shaking lungs.

Then he said softly, too soft, “You don’t have to have it all figured out tonight. I am here with you. Doesn't matter if you feel afraid or as if you are losing your self, I am always here. One breath at a time.”

His words made my heart beat faster. A lump filled my throat. I don't wanna cry, not right now. I nodded slightly. I think he heard it.

We stayed like that. Silent. But not empty.

Then I said, “This is the safest I’ve ever felt with someone.”

His breath hitched. Barely. But I heard it.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” he said.

“I don’t feel brave.”

“You don’t have to. You are.”

I bit my lip. It slipped my lips before my mind could gather it “We’re just friends, right?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. And i almost felt hopeless. Why would I even ask that. Panick grew—

Then: “I don’t know what we are yet. But I know I don’t want to be without you.”

The panic in me subsided. That made something crumble in me. Gently. 

“I think I’d fall apart without you,” I said, raw.

“ Dont” he whispered. “Just... fall into me instead.”

That sentence held me like arms I couldn’t touch.

My throat tightened. I pulled the blanket higher.

“Go to sleep,” he said gently. “I’ll stay on the line.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

And I believed him.

I curled tighter under the blanket, heart pounding softer now. The sound of his breathing on the other end was steady, grounding.

“Rafe”

“I am here”

We didn’t say anything else.

But somehow, it felt like everything had been said.

He stayed on the line, breathing with me. Holding me with words.

And I let myself drift — not because the fear was gone, but because his voice was there to hold onto.