#(suffer)

The floating islands were taken from this background shot:

his brows pull together. “what?”

you wipe furiously at your face. “you don’t know why i’m crying?”

“baby, i —”

“it’s you.”

the words hang there and rafe stills completely. your chest caves in after finally saying it out loud. “it’s you,” you repeat, voice cracking harder this time. “you’re what’s wrong.”

his face shifts instantly. confusion turning into disbelief. then guilt. then something panicked underneath both. “what are you talking about?”

you stare at him like maybe he can’t really be asking that. “you treat me like shit, rafe.” you say flatly, so flatly you havw to push the words through your mouth.

silence. actual silence. he opens his mouth, then closes it again but you keep going before you lose the courage. “everything i do annoys you now. you barely look at me anymore unless you’re criticizing me or snapping at me or acting like i’m bothering you just for existing.”

“that’s not true —”

“yes it is.”

your voice breaks loudly enough that he flinches. tears stream faster now, months worth of hurt finally spilling over. “i feel stupid all the time,” you whisper. “i feel like i have to earn being loved by you.”

“baby —”

“and i keep trying.” your breathing turns uneven. “i keep trying to be good enough for you and easy enough and quiet enough so you won’t get irritated with me but nothing works.”

rafe looks like he’s been hit. “that’s not what i want.”

“then why do you make me feel like this?”

he has no answer. none. because every memory hits him all at once now — every ignored text, every harsh tone, every time he watched your face fall and did nothing about it. his voice comes out quieter. “i didn’t realize it got this bad.”

that makes you cry harder. because of course he didn’t. you mattered enough to hurt but somehow not enough to notice hurting.

“please don’t cry,” he says immediately, moving toward you.

you pull back: the movement is small but it destroys him. rafe freezes.

“don’t,” you whisper.

his face crumples a little around the edges. “baby…”

“i can’t do this anymore.”

the second the words leave your mouth, panic floods his expression so fast it’s almost hard to look at. “no.” you shut your eyes. “don’t say that.”

“rafe—”

“no.” he shakes his head hard, moving closer again. “we can fix this.”

you look exhausted. “i’ve been trying to fix this alone for months.”

“i’ll do better.”

“you said that last time.”

his mouth shuts. because you’re right.

you stand slowly, wiping your face again. your legs feel weak underneath you. rafe stands too immediately. “where are you going?”

“home.”

“this is your home.”

another painful laugh leaves you. “it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

“don’t do this.” his voice cracks suddenly, real fear bleeding through now. “please.”

you’ve never seen him like this before. not angry. not defensive, just scared. his eyes are red already, breathing uneven as he watches you walk past him into the bedroom.

“baby, come on,” he follows after you desperately. “talk to me.”

you grab your bag with shaking hands. “i am talking to you.”

“then yell at me. scream at me, whatever — just don’t leave.”

your chest hurts so badly you can barely breathe through it because part of you wants to stay. that’s the horrible thing. you still love him, even now. especially now. but love has started hurting more than leaving would.

rafe sees your hand trembling as you zip your bag and reaches for you instinctively. “please.”

you finally look at him. his eyes are glassy now. terrified. like he’s realizing too late that he pushed the one person who stayed too far.

“i love you,” he says brokenly.

tears fill your eyes again. “i know.”

“then stay.”

you shake your head. “love isn’t supposed to feel like this.”

“i’ll change,” he says immediately. desperately. “i swear to god, i’ll change. i’ll do anything.”

you believe he means it but you also know some damage doesn’t disappear just because someone suddenly notices it. “i hope you do,” you whisper. then you walk away.

the first night without you feels like hell and the second feels worse. rafe calls until your number goes to voicemail. he texts paragraphs at 3am.

i’m sorry please talk to me i know i fucked up i love you please don’t do this

he shows up at your apartment twice before you stop answering the door entirely and for the first time in his life, rafe realizes love means absolutely nothing if you don’t know how to take care of it. weeks pass. then months.

and somehow he still reaches for you in bed half asleep. still turns when he hears laughter that sounds like yours. still checks his phone hoping for your name.

he starts changing slowly after that. not because it’ll get you back. but because losing you finally forced him to look at himself honestly. the anger, the cruelty, the way he loved like possession instead of tenderness.

and maybe that’s the tragedy of it all. he becomes the version of himself you begged for only after you’re gone.

© BITTERSWEETLYBLUE , do not copy, translate or edit my work as your own nor feed it into anything for your amusement.

a/n: divider credits to @uzmacchiato