*•°✧but it's not real and you don't exist✧°•*

Today he was meeting with an old teacher from his alma mater, who grew to be one of his favorites. Probably his only favorite.

Rafe was never a scholar or anything, something Ward didn’t allow him to forget. He just learned differently, from someone like Sarah who could barely show up to school three times a week and still pass every exam.

It wasn’t until Rafe found himself with a 67% in his social studies class and less than a month left in the semester to turn his grade around that he was forced to attend office hours.

The first day was embarrassing. He felt like an idiot in the first place, seeing as his horrible grades pretty much spoke for themselves. But even more so now that he had to stay longer at school because he was an idiot.

Rafe stayed silent for the most part. Letting the professor do most of the talking, letting him know which assignments and topics he needed to perform well on to end the class with a passing grade.

It wasn’t until that Friday, his professor knocked some sense into him.

« “You know you’ll never learn anything if you don’t ask questions, right?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, tired of sitting prisoner in the chair of his teacher’s office. “What do you want me to ask?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t have questions.” He lied unconvincingly.

“Every time I teach you, Rafe, I can see the gears turning in your head. You’re a smart kid. But I can’t help you excel if you don’t engage. I get it, alright. I felt stupid asking a bunch of questions in front of everyone in school too but I need you to be receptive. Help me help you, Mr. Cameron.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay. We can start with assigning you a peer tutor.”

Rafe wanted to laugh. Or cry, he wasn’t sure. The whole thing was just ridiculous to him at this point.

“She’ll be someone you can talk with about the material, ask questions to, someone you can trust to help you get back on track. Are you familiar with Y/n Y/ln?” »

Little did he know, Mr. Murphy would be getting the boot by the school board. Something about budget cuts, as if the kook parents of the island didn’t give enough donations to the school to keep the water fountains at a perfectly cold temperature.

Not because their books were falling apart or because their desks were chipping. Because people are selfish, and the new headmistress of the academy felt like the money could be better spent remodeling her office. It was laughable, really.

Today, that professor was back on the island, and reached out to Rafe to meet with him following the news of Ward’s death. Not that he mentioned that specifically in his email, though it was mostly implied that he’d wanted to check up on Rafe after everything.

And with all the questions he’d probably be asked today during this lunch with his old mentor, all he could ponder over was what he was going to wear. Perhaps it was a method of procrastination, to get his mind off of everything else.

Rafe sighed. “Y/n?”

At hearing his voice echoing through the house, you slid your bookmark in between the pages and followed his voice upstairs into your shared bedroom.

“You called?”

“I need your help.”

Your eyebrows raised involuntarily at the sight before you; no matter how many times you’d seen Rafe almost naked (and actually naked), he never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Help getting dressed?”

He nods, confirming that you’re always good at reading his mind. “Dress me, please?”

You chuckled, pulling some articles of clothing from the hangers and drawers. It was just lunch, so it wasn’t like he needed anything too business-y. His striped blue and orange shirt had always been one of your favorites, though he seemed to look good in almost anything.

You threw a pair of boxers over to him, keeping your back turned as you still rummaged through the closet. No matter how irresistible he was, there wasn’t any time for funny business this morning.

“There’s no need to be nervous, y’know. Mr. Murphy has always liked you.”

How do you always know what he’s thinking, damnit. “Yeah. I guess.”

He pulled the striped shirt over his head while you found pants for him to wear.

“Just don’t want him to think I’m still the same loser I was back then.”

“You’ve never been a loser, Rafe.”

“Maybe not in your eyes.” His lips stretched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He put on the pants you picked for him, sitting back down to look up at you.

“Definitely not in my eyes.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so his head rested on your stomach. The tips of your fingernails lightly scratched the back of his neck as you embraced.

“Do you remember the science fair? Freshman year?”

Rafe hummed in response. “Ward thought it was stupid. I asked him to come and he didn’t. Said he would be too embarrassed when I lost.”

“And then what happened? You won the whole damn thing.”

“I won the whole damn thing.” He smiled against your skin, repeating your words softly.

“You’ve never been a loser.”

Kneeling down, you placed your hands on his thighs, and gave him a sweet kiss.

“You’ve already accomplished so much.” You affirmed, reminding him of the businesses he had taken over since Ward died. Still, Rafe was unsure if he could rise to the occasion.

You took the ends of his jeans and cuffed them, knowing he’s terrible at doing it himself. They always come out uneven. And conveniently enough, he likes spending these quiet moments together. Neither of you would trade them for anything.

“I married you.” He cooed, taking your left hand in his and letting his thumb glide across the ring on your finger. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

“That it was.” You cheesed, letting him pull you up to straddle him. “Next time you think you’re not accomplished, Rafey…” You peppered soft kisses to his jawline. “Remember that you’ve got me.”

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he shrugs. “no worries.” he eyes you standing in front of your desk, a pile of cellophane-wrapped hard candy and love notes bundled up in your arms. rafe blinks. “wow. that’s quite the haul, y/l/n.”

you glare at him, setting your pile of heart-shaped lollipops on the desk you shared with a huff. “you wanna know the worst part? i don’t even like these kinds of lollipops.”

it was a treasured kildare academy rite of passage, the valentine-grams. it only took a dollar and the help of the student council (topper got caught up in it this year, much to his chagrin—rafe couldn’t find it in himself to sympathize after he spent weeks making posters and throwing ‘topper for president’ parties that definitely defied some stupid campaign rule) to send someone a lollipop and a cheesy love note, embarrass them in front of the entire class while prying minds tried to guess who it was from and turn it into the gossip of the day.

rafe eyes the stack you’ve unloaded onto the desk once again, feeling his jaw twitch as he counted. and re-counted. it was only third period, and you already had eight. “well, they certainly seem to like you.”

you roll your eyes, taking the seat next to him. “half are from gretch, you know how she is.”

rafe smiles, thinking about how he’d already eaten the lollipop he got from gretchen in wood shop last period. she did that for all of her friends every year—it was her favorite holiday. rafe’s pretty sure he saw her from across the hall wearing actual heart stickers on her face, but that was just gretchen.

rafe realizes he’s still scrutinizing the pile of lollipops when you push it to the side, your notebook taking its place while you flip through it quickly. you glance up and rafe follows your gaze to where mr. torres is typing at his computer. “alright, just be quick.”

rafe gets to work copying down the homework from the night before, easily reading your scrawl as he’s become so used to over the years. he gets caught up on one problem, noticing how thin and damaged the paper looks—picturing how long you must have poured over it, writing and erasing. sitting at the desk in your room, huffing in the way you always do that sends some of your hair flying out of your face. it’s almost enough to make rafe feel bad for copying it down in five minutes flat, almost. but you’d done the same thing a dozen times.

it’s quiet between the two of you, while the rest of the class buzzes about the holiday in the last few moments before class starts, and rafe copies the problem set fast so he can slide your paper back over before mr. torres sees what you’re both up to.

he turns to thank you, but watches you for a second, your eyes taking in the handful of girls in your class holding flowers or bears, gushing and comparing their heart-shaped boxes of chocolates—rafe even sees a few balloons parked in the corner. you’re still sipping from the iced coffee you picked up on the way to school, taking it all in, before your eyes flit back to rafe.

“did you say something?”

rafe’s been caught staring, and his eyes search for anything in the vicinity that will give him an out. all he sees is the lollipops. “yeah—uh. just wondering who the rest were from.”

“oh.” you take another sip before you sort through the stack, tossing suckers aside as you count them out, completely unfazed while rafe hangs on your every word. “kelce, margot… two from griffin.”

rafe feels his eyebrows raise involuntarily. “griffin?”

you wince. “griffin.”

“two?”

“…two.”

it’s at that moment that rafe remembers griffin is in this class with the both of you. he sits front and center so he can ask a million questions—one’s that don’t even relate to the lecture, sometimes—a stark contrast from where rafe had snagged the two of you the table in the back corner on the first day of class last semester. not that that deters him—griffin always found an excuse to come over and say something to rafe about practice or the game time that day, hoping it’s lead to some flirting with you. rafe looks over, and sure enough, griffin’s already looking back at the two of you. “wow. you gonna go for it?”

“go for it? what—no,” you say quietly, your eyes widening in amusement.

“why not? spent a whole two dollars on you, y/l/n. griff’s pulling out all the stops,” rafe teases. “i bet he wrote some sappy little love note too, huh?”

your smile goes a little sad, your tone going for admonishment. “rafe, don’t be mean. he’s just being nice.”

and rafe might agree with you if he didn’t captain a team that griffin is on and share an unlimited amount of locker room time with him—might give him the benefit of the doubt if he hadn’t heard first-hand what griffin would say about you when you weren’t around. but rafe’s not as nice as you are, he knows the truth, and he’s feeling petty, because—two? seriously, two? so he picks up the valentine-gram from the pile with griffin’s name written on it, clearing his throat before he reads the message. “‘y/n, will you be my valentine?’”

“rafe, stop,” you groan.

“zero points for originality. maybe his second one is better?” rafe lightly smacks your hand away as you go to cover the candy from his reach, grabbing it anyway. “‘y/n, you’re as sweet as this lollipop.’”

“i hadn’t even read that one yet,” you say, face buried in your hands.

rafe’s laughing under his breath, and you must realize at that moment that griffin’s been watching the two of you the entire time, because you kick rafe’s shin under your desk. “fucking ow.”

“be nice. it’s valentine’s day.”

“i’m always nice.”

“rafe,” mr. torres calls from the front of the class, the both of you sitting up straight immediately. “you can flirt with your valentine after class. eyes up here.”

rafe’s cheeks burn and from the look on your face he can tell yours do too, the two of you tucking yourselves into your notes for the next several minutes. in the last half of class, mr. torres sets everyone loose to work on the graphing calculators with their partners—the two of you figure it out pretty quickly, leaving the heart-shaped graph sitting on your desk when you’re done.

“any big plans tonight?” rafe asks, turning in his seat to face you, back leant against the wall. you turn to face him and rafe catches a whiff of your perfume.

“galentine’s with margot and gretchen.”

“of course,” rafe nods, knowing it’s a time-honored tradition between the three of you. “but you’re not gonna give griff a shot?”

“i’m not into him,” you sigh, your gaze shifting to the front of the classroom again. griffin’s scratching his head, not even halfway through the graph. “i dunno, maybe i should be, but…”

“nah,” rafe says, shaking his head. “if you’re not into him, you’re not into him.”

“sometimes, i just… i don’t know,” you say quietly, your head tipped to the side in consideration.

“what?” rafe asks, a foot nudging the leg of your chair.

“i just wonder if i’m holding out for no reason. like, griffin’s obviously into me. he’s not that bad, he’s tall, kinda funny sometimes. so, i should be into him, right? like, maybe i could give him a shot and he’d surprise me. he’s perfect on paper, my mom and his mom are close…” you say it like you’re ticking off boxes on a mental checklist, and for a millisecond rafe tortures himself with the thought of how many boxes he’d tick if you ever looked at him that way. he can’t imagine it’d be many.

his silence must be taken for something he didn’t mean, because you speak up again, sounding unsure. “sorry. i’m just getting caught up in all of the love stuff today.”

“nah, hey,” rafe says, sitting straight in his seat again, leaning over to bump his shoulder into yours. “you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. if you don’t like him, you don’t like him, no matter how many of these stupid lollipops he sends you. there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” rafe says, considering his next words, mechanical pencil twitching in his fingers. “there’s… there’s definitely someone out there for you. i don’t think it’s griffin.”

“rafe,” you say, your voice syrupy sweet, and rafe’s cheeks flame. “you’re going soft on me, aren’t you? first the red shirt, now this? cupid behavior.”

rafe groans as you flick his short-sleeve. “oh, bite me. rose told me to wear it.”

“rafe the romantic,” you tease. “sure you don’t wanna join our galentine’s? we’re gonna watch nicholas sparks movies.”

“as if margot would let me. i heard what happened when kelce tried. and you’ve got a lot of nerve calling me the romantic when it’s 10am and you already have two lollipops from a potential suitor.”

your groan quietly at that, and you’re suddenly somehow sitting so close to each other that it takes no effort at all when your forehead presses into his shoulder.

and it’s not like rafe finds griffin’s eyes on purpose—he’d averted his gaze from the top of your head and griffin just happened to be sitting in his line of sight, staring right back at him with a funny look on his face.

if rafe were a nicer guy, he wouldn’t dig through the pile of candy on your desk, tossing aside all of gretchen’s and the ones from margot and kelce until he found one of the suckers that was sent to you by griffin, careful not to jostle you as he does. “can i have this one?”

“mhm,” you murmur, not even looking at it.