YOU BELONG WITH ME
SUMMARY: Rafe is a fool who does not realize what he has in front of his eyes.
NOTE: These are scenes that I wrote based on parts of the song You Belong With Me. Luv u Tay Tay <3.xoxo
You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset
She's going off about something that you said '
Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do
Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. âBabe, it was just a joke, okay? I didnât mean it likeââ
You caught her voice through the speaker, loud and sharp. Something about how he always âmakes fun of her friendsâ and how he âneeds to grow up.â
Rafe groaned. âIt was a joke. I said your friend looks like she still writes âLive, Laugh, Loveâ in her diary. Thatâs not even mean, thatâs just facts.â
You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop the laugh that almost escaped.
He added, âShe posted a TikTok about crystals and screamed when she saw a moth. I was being generous.â
Her voice grew even louder, and Rafe finally pulled the phone away and ended the call with a muttered, âCool. Great. Bye.â
He stared at the phone in his hand like it might explode.
Then he turned to you, eyes still wide with disbelief.
âPlease tell me you understood that was a joke.â
You tried. You really tried to hold it in. But the moment you met his face â the total âwhat the hell just happenedâ panic in his expression â you cracked.
You burst out laughing, folding forward and shaking your head.
âRafe, you did not say that about her friendââ
âShe had a rock named Jasper in her purse.â
You fell back in the sand with a wheeze. âShe named her crystal?â
âShe said it âhelps her find her auraâ and then tripped over a seagull. I couldnât make this up.â
You were gasping from laughing so hard. Rafe, watching you, finally let out a laugh of his own â real and unfiltered â and flopped down beside you, shaking his head like he couldnât believe it either.
And you've got a smile that can light up this whole town I haven't seen it in a while
since she brought you down You say you're fine, I know you better than that Hey,
what you doing with a girl like that?
The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the blinds, casting soft lines across the room. It was quiet â the kind of quiet that settles in when two people are in the same space but living in two completely different headspaces. The only sound was the faint scratching of your pencil on paper and the occasional shuffle of pages as you tried to focus on your homework.
Tried.
You sat cross-legged at Rafeâs desk, your notebooks spread out in front of you, biting gently on the end of your eraser as you read over the math problem again.
âHey,â you said, voice soft but expectant, âhowâd you solve number seven again? The one with theââ
You stopped mid-sentence, glancing up.
He hadnât responded.
Rafe was lying on his bed, one arm folded under his head, the other resting limply on his stomach. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, jaw tight, lips slightly parted â like heâd been holding his breath for the past ten minutes without even realizing.
You turned in your chair slowly. âRafe?â
Nothing.
You tilted your head. âEarth to rich boy. Come in, rich boy.â
Still no reaction. You set your pencil down and stood up, moving toward the bed quietly, when you reached his side, you nudged his knee with yours. âOkay, whatâs wrong?â
He blinked out of whatever haze he was in and finally looked at you. His voice was tired. âItâs nothing.â
You frowned. âDoesnât look like nothing.â
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. âItâs just⌠another fight.â
You didnât have to ask who with.
You sat down beside him on the edge of the bed, resting your hands in your lap. âWhat was it this time?â
âShe said I donât make time for her,â he muttered. âThat Iâm emotionally unavailable. That I âdonât care enough to communicate like an adult.ââ He did air quotes with a bitter twist to his mouth.
You stayed quiet for a beat. Let the words hang there.
Then, quietly: âIs any of that true?â
He looked at you sharply, like youâd accused him of something awful. âWhat? No. I meanâI try. I call, I check in, I show up, even when I donât want to. Even when Iâm tired. But she always finds a reason to be pissed.â
You nodded slowly, chewing the inside of your cheek.
âRafe,â you said gently, âcan I be honest?â
He let out a dry laugh. âSince when do you ask?â
âShut up, Iâm being serious.â
He glanced at you, finally â and in that glance, you saw it. The heaviness in his eyes. The weariness in the set of his shoulders. Youâd seen that look more and more lately. It had become his default.
So you took a breath, and said what had been building for weeks.
âYouâve got this smile,â you said softly. âOne of those rare ones. You know â that dumb, cocky grin you do when something actually makes you happy? Like really happy?â
He raised a brow, but didnât interrupt.
âAnd I havenât seen it in weeks,â you continued. âMaybe longer. Ever since you started dating her⌠itâs like it disappeared. Youâre always tense, always distracted. Always dealing with some problem. Iâm not saying itâs all her fault, butâŚâ you trailed off, eyes dropping to your hands.
ââŚYouâre not you when youâre with her.â
That silenced the room.
Rafe blinked slowly, looking back up at the ceiling like it held answers. âI didnât think it showed.â
You gave a humorless smile. âI know you better than that.â
A few seconds passed.
And then, quietly, you added, âWhat are you doing with a girl like that?â
The question sat heavy in the air.
You didnât say it to be cruel. You werenât trying to manipulate or twist his emotions. It wasnât jealousy â or at least, not just that. It was honesty. Raw, aching honesty from someone who saw him. Who wanted him to be happy, even if it wasnât with you.
But Rafe didnât answer.
Instead, he slowly sat up, elbows resting on his knees, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to make sense of something bigger than himself. You waited.
âI guess I thought⌠maybe she could fix me,â he muttered. âMake me better. Make me lessâwhatever the hell Iâve been.â
You softened. âRafe, you donât need someone to fix you.â
He looked up.
You smiled â not in pity, but something quieter. âYou need someone who reminds you who you are. Someone who lets you laugh. Who brings you back to yourself.â
His gaze lingered on you.
And this time, he really looked.
Not just at your face, but at your presence. Your warmth. Your quiet patience. The way you always stayed, even when you didnât have to. Even when he was at his worst.
And then, for the first time in what felt like forever⌠he smiled.
Just barely. Just a flicker.
But it was there.
And it lit up the whole damn room.
Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night I'm
the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry
The house was quiet. Too quiet, actually.
You lay on your bed, phone in hand, eyes lazily scrolling through posts you werenât really reading. The windows were cracked open, letting in the warm, humid summer air and the distant hum of crickets.
And then, you heard it.
That familiar, low growl of a truck engine cutting through the silence. Not just any truck â his truck. Rafeâs black pickup had a sound you could pick out of a lineup in your sleep. You froze, heart stuttering slightly as you pushed yourself off the bed and rushed to the window.
The headlights cut through the darkness as the truck turned the corner into your street, slowing near your driveway.
Midnight. You looked at the clock. What the hell is he doing here at midnight?
Without thinking, you grabbed your hoodie from the chair, threw it over your pajama top, and slipped on a pair of slides. You didnât even question it â it was instinct. Because if Rafe showed up at this hour, something was wrong.
By the time you made it out to the porch, the truck was rolling to a stop in front of your house. The engine idled for a second before shutting off. Silence again. You stepped down one step, squinting toward the driverâs side door.
And then he got out.
And you froze.
Rafe didnât look like himself. His normally sure, cocky stride was replaced with something tight â something tense and unraveling. His hair was messy, like heâd been running his hands through it too many times. His shoulders hunched. His eyes were glassy, red-rimmed. He didnât say a word.
âRafeâŚ?â you started, voice low, confused.
But he didnât answer.
He just walked â fast, like something in him might break if he didnât get to you quickly enough â and then suddenly, his arms were around your waist, strong and desperate, burying his face into the curve of your neck.
And you didnât ask.
You didnât say a single word.
You just hugged him back. Both arms around his neck. Holding him like he was falling apart. Because he was.
He didnât want to let go.
You could feel it in the way his arms trembled just slightly, how tightly his hands gripped the back of your hoodie, like if he loosened them, the weight of whatever happened would crush him.
Minutes passed like that. Quiet, still. You rubbed slow, calming circles on his back until finally, you whispered, âCome inside, okay?â
The living room lights were dim, casting warm shadows across the walls as the two of you collapsed onto the couch. You sat close, legs touching, the sound of the air conditioner humming softly in the background.
Rafe leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He hadnât said much since he got there, but now, the silence was heavier. Cracked.
He let out a shaky breath.
âI saw the texts,â he said, voice low and raw. âBetween her and some guy she met at that bar last week. She said she was with her cousin that night.â
You didnât interrupt.
âShe told him she missed him,â he added. âSaid being with me was âdraining.â That Iâm⌠exhausting.â
You swallowed hard. Your chest ached at how small he sounded.
âI justââ He sat back suddenly, scrubbing a hand over his face. âI knew something was off. Iâve known for weeks, but I kept telling myself I was overthinking it. And then⌠boom. There it is. She just proved it.â
He shook his head.
âYou ever feel like youâre too much for everyone?â he asked. âLike no matter what you do, youâre the problem?â
You leaned your head on the back of the couch, looking at him sideways. âRafe⌠no. Youâre not too much. Youâre just⌠too real for the wrong people.â
He gave a hollow chuckle, but it didnât reach his eyes.
You watched him for a moment. Then, with a soft grin, you said, âOkay. But, like, silver lining? At least sheâs free to go back to her crystal soulmate now.â
Rafe blinked. âWhat?â
âYou know. Jasper. The emotionally supportive geode.â
He stared at you.
Then let out a real laugh. Loud. Guttural. The kind that made his shoulders shake and his eyes squeeze shut.
âStop,â he wheezed, wiping his face. âGod, why are you like this?â
You shrugged with a smirk. âIâm your best friend. Iâm contractually obligated to be hilarious in moments of deep emotional trauma.â
He turned toward you, his eyes still glassy but clearer now. Lighter.
âYouâre great,â he murmured, almost like he hadnât meant to say it aloud.
You tilted your head. âI know.â
That earned another laugh from him. This time softer. Warmer. He looked at you for a second longer than usual.
And even though his heart was breaking, there was comfort in the way he let himself lean toward you, just a little.
Like maybe he was starting to remember what it felt like to breathe around someone again.
Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? Been here all
along, so why can't you see? You belong with me
The sun was soft and golden by the time you reached the cafĂŠ, spilling through the windows and making the glass cups behind the counter shimmer. It was one of your favorite spots in town â not too loud, not too crowded, with just enough personality in the mismatched chairs and chalkboard menu to feel like a little hideaway. You had texted Rafe an hour ago to meet you here. Youâd even been kind and added: âdonât be a diva. show up on time.â
So of course he was late.
You were mid-sip of your iced latte, spinning the straw lazily between your fingers when the bell above the door rang â and Rafe appeared, slightly breathless, baseball cap low on his head and a wild apology already forming on his lips.
âI know, I know Iâm late, I swear I didnât mean to be, there was traffic on the bridge, and then I couldnât find parking and this guy was being a totalââ
âRafe,â you interrupted, smiling as you stood from your seat. âItâs okay. Okay? I believe you.â
He stopped mid-sentence. Blinked.
Then exhaled hard and broke into a sheepish laugh, raking a hand through his hair. âGod. Sorry. Itâs just a habit at this point.â
You raised a brow, still amused. âA habit?â
âYeah, well,â he said, scratching the back of his neck, âI used to have to list off my excuses like a damn grocery receipt. Just to avoid a two-hour argument.â
You smiled, gently bumping his shoulder as he dropped into the seat across from you. âWell, lucky for you, Iâm not your emotionally repressed girlfriend with a superiority complex.â
âThatâs⌠weirdly specific,â he said, but he laughed again â light, real.
âAnyway,â you said, picking up your drink again, âjust donât do it again or Iâll have to cheat on you.â
Rafe blinked, ahen dramatically put a hand over his heart. âWow.â
You grinned over your straw. âHey, the warning was clear.â
âThat was cold.â He held up his hands. âThe wound is still fresh.â
âThen stop crying about it and order something,â you said, teasing. âItâs on me.â
He blinked again. âSeriously?â
You shrugged. âYeah. Youâve been sad lately. Plus, Iâm trying to gain moral superiority by paying for your caffeine addiction.â
âYouâre a saint,â he said, already flagging down the barista with a grateful smirk. âI want one of those stupid caramel drinks. The ones that taste like sugar and regret.â
âClassy.â
He turned back to you with a smile, one that lingered a second too long, and said softly, âThanks. For this.â
You just rolled your eyes with a smile, tapping his shoe gently with yours under the table. âDonât thank me for being the one person whoâs always been here.â
He tilted his head, playful but thoughtful. âYou really have, huh?â
âI meanâŚâ You looked down at your cup, swirling the ice. âIâve been around. Iâve seen you at your best. And your worst. And your weird middle school bowl cut phase.â
âOkay, rude.â He laughed again, full-bellied and without restraint.
But then he quieted a little. Looked at you with this softness in his eyes â not like a friend about to tease you back, but like a boy finally starting to see something heâd missed all this time.
You offered him a half-smile, casual and easy, like your heart wasnât actually pounding.
âCanât you see it?â you asked, voice light but layered. âIâm the one who understands you.â you didnât meant it like that, but Rafe took it like a face palm, because that was the most real truth heâs heard in a while.
Rafe stared at you for a long second. Something flickered behind his expression â something like realization. Or maybe recognition. Or maybe just the kind of stillness that comes when everything inside you suddenly shifts into place.
But before he could speak, the barista called his name, breaking the moment.
Rafe stood up slowly, almost reluctant. âBe right back.â because it wasnât just about a coffee.
It wasnât even about his ex.
It was about how, no matter how long youâd been by his side â through every high, every crash, every shattered version of himself â he still hadnât seen what had always been right in front of him.
You.
But maybe now⌠he was starting to.
------
The storm had passed.
Not the weather â that had happened earlier in the afternoon. A short, wild burst of rain that came and went in thirty minutes, typical of the Outer Banks. But Rafeâs storm â the chaos, the anger, the confusion that had been brewing inside him for months â that had passed too. Quietly. Almost without him realizing.
You were both back at your house that night, sitting in the familiar glow of your living room, with your feet tucked under a shared blanket and a movie playing half-heartedly in the background. Neither of you were watching it.
You were leaned against the armrest, a bowl of popcorn in your lap, wearing one of Rafeâs old hoodies like you didnât even realize it wasnât yours. And maybe you didnât. Maybe that was just what happened after years of being his person. You just absorbed into each otherâs lives without asking for permission.
And Rafe⌠he couldnât stop looking at you.
You caught him at one point, mid-bite of popcorn, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
âWhat,â you said, around a mouthful. âDo I have butter on my face?â
âNo,â he said quickly. Too quickly. Then added, âYouâre just⌠comfortable like this.â
You shrugged, unconcerned. âWeâve been friends for years. Comfortâs kind of the brand.â
He nodded, but didnât say anything.
His gaze drifted down to your legs stretched across his lap. To the way your fingers absentmindedly sorted through the popcorn, like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
He wasnât thinking about her anymore. Not about the girl who broke his trust. Not about the long arguments or the missed calls or the slow eroding of who he was when he was with her.
He was thinking about you.
About the way youâd stood outside that night in the dark, hugging him without asking questions. About the way you joked with him until he laughed through the heartbreak. About your dumb jokes, and your quiet loyalty, and how you never expected anything from him except for him to just be himself.
He was thinking about the way your laugh cracked through his darkest moods. The way you never looked at him like he was broken. The way you knew him.
And suddenly, he couldnât sit still.
He paused the movie.
You glanced up. âYou okay?â
âI need to say something.â
You sat straighter, worried now. âUh oh. Youâre not dying, right? Because if you are, Iâm not helping you fake your will again.â
âIâm serious.â
You set the bowl down. âOkay. Shoot.â
He stared at you, his jaw tightening for a second like he was still trying to work out the words.
And then, slowly, he said, âYouâve always been there.â
You blinked. âWhat?â
âYou,â he repeated, voice quieter this time. âEvery time Iâve crashed⌠youâve been there. Every time I was at my worst. Every stupid mistake. Every fight. Everyâeverything. Youâve always been there.â
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.
âAnd I didnât get it,â he said, his tone sharpening slightly, like he was mad at himself. âI had you right in front of me this whole time, and I was too blind or stupid or stuck in my own head to see it.â
âRafeââ
âI mean it,â he said, shifting closer. âYou know me better than anyone. You get me. You see the parts no one else wants to deal with, and you never run. And Iâve been sitting here for years, thinking I had to be someone different to be loved, to be wanted, and the whole time you were justâthere.â
You swallowed hard.
He kept going. His voice was low, trembling, but steady.
âI donât want to laugh with anyone else but you. I donât want to run to anyone elseâs house at midnight. I donât want to pretend anymore that youâre just my best friend. Because youâre not. Youâre⌠youâre everything.â
You sat there, stunned, heart thudding in your chest.
âYouâre the one,â he said. âYouâve always been the one.â
Silence fell between you.
Until you whispered, barely holding it together, âTook you long enough.â
And that broke him.
He laughed, a little breathless, eyes glassy. âGod, Iâm an idiot.â
âYeah,â you nodded, voice thick. âBut youâre my idiot.â
He leaned in, slowly, like he was testing the waters â and you met him halfway, lips soft, warm, familiar in a way that made your chest ache.
And when he pulled back, his smile was the one you hadnât seen in forever.
The one that lit up the whole damn town.
Have you ever thought
just maybe
You belong with me?
You belong with me
















