pleaseee consider doing a part 2 to are you busy
are you busy?
SUMMARY . . rafe gets exactly what he asks for when he calls you clingy in front of everyone and discovers that silence is a lot harder to live with than he expected.
AUTHOR’S NOTE . . 2847 words ; PART TWO, rafe admitting he was wrong for that night so theres closure
MAIN MASTERLIST | PART ONE
the conversation should make him feel better. logically, it should, because you answered.
that alone is more than he’d gotten from you for days. you responded to every question he asked, told him where you were, reassured him you weren’t angry, and never once left him sitting there wondering if you’d disappeared again.
he finds himself staring at the messages with a growing sense of irritation he can’t even explain, not because of anything you said. if anything, that’s the problem. you were reasonable, you were patient.
over the next few days, he rereads the conversation more than he’d ever admit to out loud. every time he does, he finds himself stopping at the same messages. i’m literally texting you right now. how is that avoiding you.
before, conversations with you had never felt like work. he never had to think about whether you’d answer or if he’d hear from you that day. you were always somewhere nearby, reaching out first. he tells himself this is temporary. you’re still upset and it’ll pass. but the longer it goes on, the more obvious it becomes that this isn’t punishment. you’re simply matching the energy he’s always given you.
that’s the part that keeps bothering him. if you were screaming at him, he’d at least know what to do. instead, you’re calm, you smile when you see him, you don’t seem upset.
by the time he sees you at the country club, he’s convinced himself that what the two of you need is time together. if things feel weird, then all he has to do is make them feel normal again. it’s the kind of logic that makes perfect sense inside his own head and literally nowhere else.
the afternoon sun hangs low over the golf course as people move in and out of the clubhouse. you’re standing near the outdoor counter waiting for a drink you’d ordered, one hand resting against the strap of your bag while you scroll absentmindedly through your phone. from across the patio, rafe spots you immediately.
without hesitation, he changes direction. you don’t even notice him until he’s really close. when you glance up, surprise flashes across your face for half a second before settling into something softer.
“hey.” it’s just a hey, and for some reason, it already annoys him.
“hey,” he says back. “what’re— what’re you doing?”
you glance toward the counter. “waiting for my drink.”
“then what?”
the question earns a small look from you, but you smile like it’s obvious, “then i’m leaving, babe. i’ve gotta go. i told you i’d be out with friends today.”
his jaw tightens slightly as you suppress your smile. it’s not even because it’s funny. you can just already know where this conversation is heading.
there’s a beat of silence before he exhales through his nose. “you’ve got a lot of friends all of a sudden.”
you raise an eyebrow, “i’ve always had friends.”
he immediately realizes how that sounded, unfortunately, not before the words are already out there, but you don’t argue with him over it. don't get defensive. you choose to let the comment sit there until the awkwardness belongs entirely to him.
“look,” he says, shifting his weight. “we should do something.”
you blink. “what do you mean?”
“later. tonight. whatever.”
your expression remains unchanged. “i already have plans.”
“cancel them.” the response comes so naturally he doesn’t even think about it.
you stare at him for a second. something about your expression makes him realize he’s done it again - in the expectation that you’ll immediately rearrange yourself around whatever he wants.
your drink is placed on the counter beside you before either of you says anything else.
you reach for it. “sorry, i can’t tonight. i already made plans.”
“your friends again?”
“no.” you shake your head lightly. “my family’s doing something, and on friday too.”
for a second, he just stares at you. he doesn’t know why that answer bothers him as much as it does. maybe because it catches him off guard, that somewhere along the way he’d convinced himself the only reason you weren’t around was because you were deliberately staying busy because you were upset or something.
“what, like dinner?” he asks.
you shrug. “yeah, something like that. i just haven’t spent much time with them lately, so.”
it’s vague, but not dismissive. you’re answering him, same as you’ve been doing all week - just giving him enough information that he can’t accuse you of shutting him out, but not volunteering anything extra either.
a month ago, you would’ve told him three days in advance, probably would’ve asked if he wanted to come.
the realization lands heavily in his chest. “okay. so you’re busy all night tonight?”
“probably.”
another silence settles, but you don’t seem uncomfortable inside it. you shift your drink into your other hand and glance toward the parking lot where a familiar SUV has just pulled into one of the spaces.
even from this distance, you immediately recognize it. your expression softens almost instantly. “i asked them to pick me up.”
he follows your gaze as a man steps out from the driver’s side, your father. your mother climbs out from the passenger side a second later while your siblings in the backseat leans forward, waving through the window after spotting you near the clubhouse.
before rafe can stop himself, his eyes flick back toward you. you’re smiling at them. while he’d spent days sitting in his room staring at his phone, waiting for your attention to come back, you’d simply gone back to living your life. but of course, why wouldn’t you?
“i should go,” you say.
he opens his mouth, ready to say something, but he isn’t entirely sure what, like don’t go. come with me instead. what about tomorrow? something, anything, but none of it sounds right.
so all he manages is a stiff nod. “alright, i’ll see you.”
you offer him a small smile. “i’ll see you.”
the entire drive home, he keeps replaying the interaction in his head, picking apart pieces of it. nothing about the conversation was bad. if anything, it was frustratingly normal.
he spends the rest of the evening trying to distract himself from it. he throws himself into whatever’s in front of him, whether it’s helping move something down at the dock, sitting through a conversation he barely listens to, or aimlessly scrolling through his phone while the television drones somewhere in the background.
for days after the argument, he’d assumed the distance came from sadness. then, when the sadness seemed to fade, he’d convinced himself it was just stubbornness. now he isn’t so sure it’s either of those things anymore. sadness still reaches for people and anger still demands something from them.
he wakes up and instinctively checks his phone before remembering there probably won’t be anything waiting for him, again. every little thing seems to lead back to the same uncomfortable conclusion. somewhere along the way, he’d become used to being a priority without ever having to earn it.
the memory of the party comes back more often now. before, whenever he thought about that night, his focus stayed on the argument itself, then on the smaller details instead. he remembers your smile disappeared in the moment, the look on your face after he said it what he said, you knew you genuinely didn’t understood what you’d done wrong.
the more distance he gets from it, the harder it becomes to justify what happened. he’d spent so much time convincing himself that you were too attached and too involved in every part of his life that he’d never stopped to consider why. you weren't demanding things from him. you weren't
one night, he finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed with your message thread open again.
he doesn’t even remember opening it. one second he’s scrolling through something else, and the next he’s staring at months of conversations stretching up the screen.
for the first time, embarrassment starts creeping in alongside everything else. it’s not the embarrassment of being ignored, but the embarrassment of realizing he’s been trying to skip straight to the part where things go back to normal without actually addressing the reason they changed in the first place.
he’s asked where you’ve been, who you’ve been with, what you’ve been up to. he’d focused so heavily on restoring access to you that he’d never once stopped to acknowledge the thing that pushed you away. and once he notices it, he can’t stop noticing it.
the thought follows him long after midnight.
he leans back against his bed’s headboard and stares at the ceiling, one hand resting across his stomach while the events of the past couple weeks continue looping through his head. eventually, a frustrated laugh escapes him, because the answer feels so obvious now that he almost wants to be annoyed with himself.
the next morning, you don’t expect to see him.
the weather’s nice, people move in and out of storefronts, golf carts weave lazily down the street. you’re standing outside a small shop near the marina, waiting for a bag someone inside is still putting together for you, when a truck pulls into a nearby parking spot.
you recognize it immediately. rafe steps out and spots you, but for a second, neither of you moves, and then he starts walking over.
you watch him approach, noticing almost immediately that something feels different. like he’s still rafe, shoving his hands into his pockets halfway through crossing the sidewalk, but there’s something less impatient about him today. he seem less reactive than as of late.
he stops in front of you. “hey.”
“hey.” you glance toward the shop window.
he notices. “you busy?”
the question almost makes you smile. “my parents wanted to go out on the boat today, remember?”
he nods once. for a moment, it seems like he’s about to fall into the same pattern as before to ask how long you’ll be gone for or if the plans are gonna take over the entire day. you can practically see the questions forming behind his eyes.
instead, he exhales slowly, and lets them go, which surprises you. “okay.”
another pause settles between you. as a group of tourists walk past, you realize he’s actually nervous. at least not visibly, but you’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s uncomfortable.
your expression softens slightly, “what’s up?”
rafe looks away first, and that surprises you too. he drags a hand across the back of his neck. “been thinking about that night, and before you say anything—” he starts, then immediately stops himself with a frustrated shake of his head. “actually, no. never mind.”
you tilt your head slightly, but still don’t say anything. the conversation goes quiet as a worker approaches you, handing you a bag. you thank her, nodding politely and wishing them well before you turn away, fiddling with the handles of the bag while lingering long enough to let rafe know you’re still listening.
“i was already in a bad mood,” he tries again. you stay quiet and watch him carefully. “i was irritated, stressed, whatever. but that wasn’t your problem, i know. you weren’t doing anything wrong. you weren’t bothering me, and you weren’t being clingy.”
frustration flickers across his expression after saying it, just only with himself for needing to say it out loud in the first place.
“i just . . i took everything out on you because you were standing there. i guess. and then i did it in front of everybody.” there’s no excuse attached to it.
you study him for a moment before speaking. “why?”
his eyebrows pull together. “what?”
“why did it bother you so much?”
the question catches him off guard. you can see it happen. it’s easier to apologize for the outcome than it is to examine the reason.
“i don’t know.”
you raise an eyebrow, waiting.
he lets out another quiet laugh. “okay, that’s not true.” his gaze drops briefly toward the pavement before returning to yours. “i think i just got used to it.”
“used to what?”
“you.”
you furrow your brows in confusion.
“you’ve always been there, calling me, checking on me, all that. i started acting like it was annoying when really . .” he shakes his head once. “i don’t know. i just stopped appreciating it.”
people continue moving around the marina while a boat horn sounds somewhere behind you. the tension that’s been sitting between you for weeks finally feels different.
you look at him for another second before your expression softens almost imperceptibly. you ask quietly, “so when i stopped?”
rafe’s eyes meet yours. “hated it.”
you hum with a nod, looking away. he doesn’t try to explain himself again, but he stands there looking at you, waiting.
you don’t realize it, but you’re currently holding all the power in the conversation. he’d finally handed you something honest, and now he has absolutely no idea what you’re going to do with it.
your eyes narrow thoughtfully, and rafe swears he feels his stomach twist. the corners of your mouth don’t even move that suddenly rafe finds himself wondering if he somehow managed to make things worse.
a couple weeks ago he would’ve literally rather had to swallow glass than stand in public talking about his feelings, even if people aren’t even close enough right now to hear you two. but still, you’re standing on a marina sidewalk with people walking past every few seconds.
“i mean it, y/n.” your eyebrows lift slightly at his low voice. “i shouldn’t have said any of that, especially not like that. you didn’t deserve it. and i’m sorry.”
the apology hangs there. for a moment, neither of you says anything. you can see how awful he’s been feeling. you sensed it the moment he kept messaging you. he doesn’t even know sarah overheard rafe topper and kelce about her that one time and told y/n about it.
you smile. it’s small at first, but it’s enough for something in rafe’s expression to immediately soften. all week he’s been bracing for resistance or disappointment. instead, you’re smiling.
you shake your head lightly before glancing past him toward the docks. “c’mon,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
you turn before he can ask what you mean, already beginning to walk away from him, and for half a second rafe simply stands there watching you go. then he notices your arm moving behind your back.
your hand’s open, waiting.
the sight nearly makes him smile, because apparently after everything, after a week of driving himself insane and rereading text messages and checking your location like a lunatic, this is how you choose to tell him he’s forgiven. he’s been forgiven, you’ve just been waiting for him to admit how much of a dick he’d been that night.
you don’t even look back so you can keep walking, fully expecting him to be there. rafe reaches for your hand immediately. there isn’t even a second of hesitation.
his fingers close around yours, and the relief that hits him is so sudden it almost catches him off guard. he shortens his stride as he catches up beside you, careful not to tug your arm as he brings your hand toward his mouth and presses a quick kiss against your knuckles.
only then do you finally look at him, and the second he sees your face, he lets out a quiet huff of laughter because you’re grinning. you’ve apparently been waiting for him to catch up.
his thumb brushes across the back of your hand, then gives your hand a gentle pull, reeling you slightly closer until you’re forced to stumble half a step toward him with a laugh. before you can say anything, he’s already leaning down, pressing a brief kiss against your lips, and the second he pulls away he follows it with another against your temple.
you roll your eyes, but he immediately does it again.
“rafe.”
“what?” he sounds entirely too pleased with himself, you can hear it, which is exactly why your smile refuses to leave.
by the time you reach the docks, he’s hovering close behind you, both hands settled comfortably at your waist while the two of you walk. every so often he leans down to press another absent-minded kiss somewhere he can reach, to your temple, the side of your head, the back of your hair.
your family’s boat comes into view a few moments later where your parents are already waiting. the second they spot you, your mother lifts a hand in greeting. you wave back.
“can rafe come?” you call out to them.
your father looks from you to him, then immediately smiles, nodding big, just once, maybe twice if you didn’t catch the first one. “of course.” the answer comes so quickly it makes you smile.
beside you, rafe’s grip tightens slightly against your waist. he’s walking beside you, and this time, when you reach for him, he has no intention of letting go.
