࣪ ִֶָ☾.࣪࿐doe eyed distraction✴︎˚｡ꨄ︎
after rafe gets back from morocco, he’s desperate to win back his favourite drug , not proof read.
“You gotta- Sof you gotta understand me.”
Rafe stands in front of Sofia, the blazing sun from earlier that day faded with time, leaving behind pink-toned clouds and a light orange wash that veiled over the cut.
His eyes desperately trail over her face, watching her soft features contort as she thinks. His own jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically with impatience.
It’s been weeks since Rafe called her, and unhesitatingly kicked her out of his house.
‘God after everything I did for you? We’re done. Done.’
The words had done everything to worsen the already immeasurable amount of guilt she felt ever since she stepped foot onto Hollis’s boat. Ever since she took that money.
‘You think the kooks are gonna give you anything? You should get what you can, while you can.’
Hollis was right. The kooks were never gonna give Sofia the time of day, besides Rafe, and even he was too ashamed to admit they’re together.
‘I’m not- living with a pouge, I have standards.’
He deserved it, she thought, a taste of his own medicine for once.
So why was this making her feel even worse? Him standing in front of her, pleading for her back even despite her betrayal?
“Baby, baby look. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t- I love you. I didn’t mean anything by it it’s- it’s Topper and shit they make me…make me say shit I don’t mean.”
She watches his hands flail around the space surrounding him as he speaks, then go back to his chest before falling to his sides, defeated, as he finishes.
His nails dig into his palms, deep enough to leave clear indents, though not deep enough to draw blood. He did that a lot, she’d noticed. Inflict minor physical pain on himself in restraint, or guilt, or whatever negative emotion was coursing through his veins at the time, simmering under his skin and mixing with every fibre of his being until it either slowly faded or consumed him entirely.
Sofia helped with that feeling. That typically irrepressible amount of shame or anger that clouded his amygdala and his prefrontal cortex until the only physical way to get rid of it was through snorting that familiar white power into his nose, savouring the burn that could either calm him or make his poorly suppressed fury ten times worse.
He needed the different high that Sofia brought to him, one without the mental and physical damage, one without the self disgust. Sofia made all his pain go away for a while, she was a distraction. A beautiful, doe-eyed distraction. He needed her.
He repressed the urge to step forward, back her up against the brick wall, take her pretty face in his hands and kiss her senseless in the middle of the street, and she’d respond so well, running her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck or draping her arms around his shoulders to connect behind his head.
Rafe knew Sofia would give in eventually. His begging and pleading highlighting his pathetic nature that resurfaces whenever he’s denied the approval and forgiveness he so deeply craves. The pathetic nature that Sofia is weak to once it properly comes out.
He knew she would give in eventually, because she always does. She’ll work up the courage to stand up to him when he disrespects her, and days, if not hours later she’ll find herself tangled in his sheets again, lying atop his sweaty chest that rapidly rises and falls with the evidence of what they had just done. He’d kiss the top of her head, and whisper about how good she did and how pretty she was, and he’d continue on like nothing bad ever happened.
The only question in his mind was when? When would she forgive him? How long would it take her this time? The longest she was able to stretch herself to before was 2 weeks, and that ended the exact same way it always does. In his Queen bed with the soft white sheets, far softer than her bobbly ones at home.
Sofia crosses her arms over her tucked in white polo, her forearm covering the light blue country club logo sewn into it. She exhales a sharp breath, looking down and then to her left, not letting her eyes meet the blue ones in front of her. “Why would you say that, then? If you didn’t mean it.”
Rafe fiddles with the ring on his left hand, glancing down at where it sits on his middle finger before focusing his gaze on her, “I told you it’s Ruthie-“
Sofia cuts him off, “Ruthie didn’t make you say anything. Rafe.”
He exhales, lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck before raising it to gesture towards her, “Look it didn’t mean anything, alright? I proposed to you, I gave you my mother’s ring. You think that means nothing to me?” his gaze falls to her hand.
She follows his line of sight, where the ring is in-fact, still on her finger. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t taken it off yet, left it on the counter when she’d packed up and left. The cushion-cut diamond lay embedded in the gold, which glimmered with every little shift of her hand.
He warily takes a step towards her, putting his hands slightly in front of him as if to come off as less of a threat, “You know I love you, baby. C’mon.”
She drops her arms to her sides as she notices him moving closer, she doesn’t reach for him. She doesn’t step away either.
She takes in his face. The sharp start of his slightly grown out buzzcut, the way his jaw is tightened, his eyes piercing in the evening sun.
Her eyes trail down to his chest, looking over the way his cream-coloured shirt tightens at the chest every time he breathes, and the way the short sleeves are just barely too small, pressing into his biceps uncomfortably.
Sofia wasn’t weak. That’s what she’d been telling herself ever since she overheard him talking to Ruthie and Topper. She has respect for herself. She does. So in determination to prove that, to him as-well as herself, her right hand slowly rises up to the other, and she begins to take off the gold engagement band, slipping it off her finger with shaky hands, almost reluctantly.
Rafe’s eyes widen, the tiniest bit, unnoticeable unless you were specifically looking. Sofia was supposed to forgive him. She always forgave him, and now she was taking off her ring? The last physical tie he had to her?
He takes another step closer to her, now close enough to touch, and carefully places his hands over hers just as the ring slips off her fingertip, “Sofia.”
She meets his eyes for the first time as he addresses her, the bright blue looks darker now with more proximity. Her own are glazed slightly, the hazel appearing light brown as she looks up at him.
Rafe slowly takes the ring out of her right hand, not breaking eye contact with her as he slowly slips it back onto her ring finger.
She lets a stray tear fall, using her spare hand to wipe it away, which doesn’t do much good as another multitude of tears begin to streak down her face, smudging her brown mascara.
He finishes placing the ring back where it belongs, before bringing his hands up to cup her face, wiping at the tears on her cheeks, which just spreads her mascara further around.
She allows his hands to envelope her face, bringing her own up to rest on his forearms, her orange-painted nails digging in to the tan skin there, “Rafe I don’t…”
He leans down, bringing his face just an inch away from hers. His hot breath fans over her face lightly as he speaks, “It’s okay, yeah? I love you. Promise.”
He closes the distance, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth, savouring the way her hands move to cradle the back of his head, like they had hundreds of times before.
He knew she would forgive him. Rafe Cameron fucks up a lot, it’s who he is, and it’s most likely who he will always be.
But as long as he always has someone to forgive him when he does, he’ll be fine, he thinks. And he’ll do anything to keep that sweet internal validation she gives him.
Somewhere along the line they make their way to the hood of Rafe’s car, where he lifts her up to sit on it, her legs wrapping around his hips lazily as the kiss continues.
Sofia’s lips trail down his jaw, reaching his neck and leaving soft kisses there that would probably leave red marks later on. He lets himself melt into it for a second, before suddenly remembering the fact they are in the middle of the cut when he makes long eye contact with a man walking across the street, who gives him an amused nod.
He quickly takes a step away, looking down at her sat on his car.
She looks up at him, cocking her head to the side, “What?” and he exhales at the way her pretty eyes drop in disappointment.
He keeps looking around for a moment, a subtle shake to his head as he notices the plethora of small homes lining the sidewalk, all of which have windows, “Nothing baby, just- come, get in the car.” he nods towards the car doors.
She jumps down to the concrete floor, her sneakers making a quiet scraping sound as she does.
He quickly grabs her waist and unlocks the car, practically pushing her onto the seat as he opens the door.
An hour or so later, Rafe lays on the expensive leather in the backseat of his white Mercedes, Sofia half asleep sprawled over him.
The sky is dark now, the soft sunset faded into harsh blues and blacks behind the bright stars.
He runs his hand slowly up and down her spine, tracing the soft, now slightly sticky skin there. Her arms rest crossed on his chest, using them as a pillow.
A sense of pride runs through him at her dazed state, knowing that he was the one to do it to her. He leans down to kiss the side of her head, over her messy brown hair.
He feels better than he has in a while, smug relief coursing through his bloodstream, a high far better than anything he could ever smoke, or snort, or inject.
This was physical, real. Not like the baggies that Barry used to sell to him, that was simply a chemical reaction in his brain that lasted barely an hour and left him feeling even worse.
This feels infinite, and he relishes in the fact that he could wake her up and ask her to go again, and she would, and he’d face no repercussions, and he’d feel even better. He relishes in the fact that nobody could take this from him, that he can actually feel her on top of him, her skin on his.
No amount of coke, or whiskey, could compare to the borderline otherworldly feeling of Sofia, and he would do everything he could to keep that feeling, forever.
