#dark!rafe

you feel it before anyone says your name.

it’s in the way people don’t quite look at you when you walk past, like they’ve already seen enough. conversations don’t stop, but they shift. they dip and bend, recover too quickly. someone gives you a small, tight smile that doesn’t ask how you are, just acknowledges that you’re here. it feels like pity.

you keep your head down and move like normal.

you pick up a rag, start wiping down the console, fingers moving in a rhythm you’ve done a hundred times before. the motion is automatic, steady, something you can hold onto while everything else feels… off. you tell yourself it’s nothing. that you’re reading into it. that last week was just… bad timing, bad luck, nothing more. but then you straighten, and you see her.

sofia, already looking at you.

she’s not across the dock. she’s not calling you over. she’s closer than that. just off to the side, positioned like she’s been waiting for the exact moment you’d notice her. coffee in hand, posture easy, shoulders relaxed like this is just another morning, just another conversation.

her smile comes a second later.

“hey,” she says, soft, warm in a way that feels almost practiced. “can i grab you for a second?”

you don’t answer right away. you wipe your hands on your shorts again, even though they’re already clean, and walk toward her because there’s no version of this where you don’t.

she turns slightly as you approach, angling both of you toward the dock instead of each other, her shoulder almost brushing yours. it’s subtle, the way she places you, like you’re standing with her, not in front of her. like you’re part of something instead of the center of it.

“everything okay?” you ask, keeping your voice even, trying to keep this small, contained.

she hums softly, like she’s considering that.

“yeah,” she says. “i just- i wanted to follow up on something.”

the words settle wrong.

you nod once. “okay.”

she takes a sip of her coffee, slow, unhurried, and you watch the way her fingers curl around the cup, steady, controlled. when she lowers it, her eyes flick over your face, not searching, just… confirming.

“so,” she starts, voice still light, still easy. “i talked to ward this morning.”

your stomach drops before she even finishes the sentence. it’s quiet. barely a shift. but your body knows before your mind catches up. you don’t say anything. you just wait. she tilts her head slightly, studying you like she’s checking how much you already understand.

“he’s had some concerns,” she continues. “about the way things have been going here. about… boundaries.”

your fingers curl into your palms.

“i don’t know what that means,” you say, because you need her to say it clearly. because if she doesn’t, maybe you can still pretend this isn’t what it feels like. she nods, like she expected that too.

“it just means,” she says carefully, “that this might not be the right fit for you anymore.”

the words land soft, too soft like they’re meant to slide past without resistance.

“what?” you blink at her. “no, i- i’ve been here. i’ve been doing my job. if there’s something wrong, you can just tell me and i’ll-”

“i know you have,” she cuts in, gentle, almost reassuring. “this isn’t about effort.”

your throat tightens.

“then what is it about?”

she looks at you for a second, then her eyes move just over your shoulder. you don’t want to turn, but you do anyway. rafe is far, but not far enough to be unaware. he’s not looking at anything else. not at the boats, not at the water, not at the people pretending not to watch.

just you.

for a second, just a second, your breath catches. because he knows. he sees you standing here. he said he’d handle it.

your chest tightens, something hot rising up behind your ribs, fast and sharp and disorienting. it overlaps with everything at once, her voice from last week, quiet and smiling as she told you it’d be a shame if the wrong person started asking questions. his voice in his room, low and certain, telling you you weren’t nothing. the way he looked at you like he meant it.

the way he’s looking at you now. and doing nothing.

you turn back to her too quickly, like looking at him any longer will make something crack open.

“i need this job,” you say, the words coming out thinner than you want them to. “i’m in school, i- i can’t just-”

“i understand,” she says softly.

you almost laugh at that. almost.

“do you?” you ask, because your voice doesn’t feel like yours anymore. “because it doesn’t feel like it.”

she doesn’t react. not really. just watches you with that same composed expression, something cooler sitting just beneath the surface of it now.

“this isn’t personal,” she says.

your stomach turns.

“seem like it is.”

“i’m sorry it feels that way,” she replies, and there’s something in the phrasing that makes your skin crawl. “but this is coming from ward. not me.”

that lands harder than anything else. because she doesn’t even have to own it. she gets to stand here, calm and collected, and deliver it like a message that just happened to pass through her hands. your vision blurs for a second, not enough to cry, just enough to burn, to make everything feel a little too sharp.

“so that’s it?” you ask quietly. “i’m just… done?”

she nods once. “effective immediately.”

the dock feels too open. too exposed. you’re suddenly aware of everything: your clothes, your hands, the way you’re standing, the fact that people are definitely listening now even if they’re pretending not to. heat crawls up your neck, settles in your cheeks, and you hate it. you hate that they can see it. you hate that she can see it.

you swallow, hard, and your eyes flick past her shoulder to where rafe stands further down the dock again. sofia's gaze slides sideways once more, finding him across the distance before returning to you. it's purposeful, a message: i know he's watching. i know he knows.

and that's somehow worse than if she'd never acknowledged it at all. because it means she's not afraid of him stepping in. it means she knows he won't. but you wait anyway. you don't even realize you're doing it. you just… wait.

for him to close the distance.

for him to say something.

for him to do anything at all.

but he doesn't move.

his gaze holds yours for a second longer, then drops, just barely to the space between you and Sofia, like he's calculating something you're not part of. like he's weighing options and finding them all wanting. and that’s when it hits. not sharp. not loud. just a drop like missing a step you didn’t see.

“okay,” you say, because your voice has to do something. because if you don’t speak, you’re going to stand here forever waiting for something that’s not coming. she gives you a small, polite smile.

“we’ll make sure you get your last check,” she adds, like this is a normal conversation. like this is something you’ll look back on and understand. you nod. once. twice. you’re not sure.

your body moves before your brain catches up. you step back, then turn, the walk down the dock stretching out in front of you longer than it's ever felt. every step feels wrong, too loud, too noticeable. you don't look at anyone. you don't look at him.

you make it to your car on autopilot, hands shaking as you grip the steering wheel. for a moment you just sit there, staring at nothing, trying to process what just happened. then you reach for your phone. you call kie, she doesn't answer. it rings until it goes to voicemail. you don't leave a message.

you call jj next. he picks up on the first ring.

“yo?” there’s wind in the background, something hollow and open, like he’s outside.

your voice doesn’t come out right the first time. “hey.”

there’s a pause, just long enough for him to hear it.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, softer now.

you close your eyes for a second. “are you with kie?”

“yeah. we’re out on the water.” you hear something shift on his end, like he’s shifting, giving you space even before you ask for it. “why, what’s up?”

your throat tightens. “can i come?”

no hesitation.

“yeah,” he says immediately. “yeah, come out. we’re just past the point. you know where.”

you nod even though he can’t see you. “okay.”

“you want us to come get you?” he adds.

“no,” you say quickly, “i’ll meet you.”

“we’ll be here.”

the drive to the point feels both endless and too short, your hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough that your knuckles ache. you don't turn on the radio. you don't do anything but drive, your mind circling back to the dock, to sofia’s smile, to the way rafe just stood there.

when you pull up to the point, you can see the boat already docked, jj and kie visible on the deck. jj's leaning against the railing, and kie's sitting on one of the bench seats, both of them turning to look when they hear your car.

you turn the engine off and step out, your legs feeling unsteady beneath you. the walk down the dock stretches out in front of you, weathered planks creaking under your feet. jj straightens when he sees your face, and you watch something shift in his expression. concern, maybe, or the recognition that something's wrong.

"hey," he says as you reach the boat, extending a hand to help you up. his grip is steady, grounding, and you let him pull you aboard.

kie's already moving toward you, her sharp edges softening the second she gets a good look at you. "what happened?" she asks, straight to it, the way she always does.

you settle onto one of the seats, your body feeling heavy, wrung out. jj sits beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours, and kie perches on the edge of the bench across from you both, waiting.

“i got fired,” you say, and the words sound strange coming out of your mouth, like they belong to someone else’s life. “sofia came to find me this morning and just… told me. said ward decided to let me go. effective immediately.”

jj’s jaw tightens. “what? why?”

you shake your head. “she didn’t say. not really. just that it was decided.” your voice cracks slightly, and you have to stop, swallowing hard as your eyes drop to your hands. “everyone just kind of stood there.”

the silence that follows feels heavy, weighted with all the things none of you are saying. jj's hand finds yours, squeezing gently, and kie leans forward, her eyes sharp with something that looks like anger on your behalf.

"that's bullshit," kie says flatly. "and she didn’t even tell you why?"

the tears slip out before you can stop them, sudden and frustrating, and you let out a small, embarrassed breath, swiping at your face too quickly as you shake your head. it’s a partial truth, but not the full one.

“hey,” jj says, softer, his arm tightening just a little around you, pulling you back against his side so you’re not hunched over anymore. “c’mon.”

you shake your head, laughing once under your breath like you’re annoyed at yourself. “i’m fine, i just-”

“nah,” he cuts in gently, tipping his head so he can catch your eye. “you’re too pretty to be cryin’ like that.”

you blink at him, caught off guard, and a small laugh slips out before you can stop it.

“shut up,” you mumble, wiping your face again.

“i’m serious,” he says, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “can’t have you out here lookin’ all sad.”

“he’s right,” kie adds, softer now, leaning forward, her voice warm instead of sharp this time. “seriously. you’re better off without that place.”

you huff out another breath, the tightness in your chest easing just a little at the way they say it, like it’s obvious, like it’s not the end of something.

“i liked it,” you admit, quieter.

they both look at you.

you shrug, staring back out at the water. “it was good money. easy. and i-” you stop, catching yourself before the rest of that thought goes somewhere you can’t take it back from. you shake your head slightly. “i needed it.”

jj nods, understanding settling in his expression. “shit, for school.”

“yeah.” this part comes easier. “i can’t keep up with everything just from the shop. i was finally like… okay, you know? not stressing all the time.” your hands move as you talk, restless, picking at nothing. “and now i just- i don’t know how i’m supposed to cover it.”

the words start coming faster again, that edge creeping back in.

“i’ve got tuition coming up and books and i just-” you cut yourself off, exhaling hard, hand rubbing your face like you can scrub the last hour away. jj watches you for a second, quiet.

then he shifts, leaning back just slightly, still close enough that his arm stays around you. "we'll figure it out," he says, and there's a certainty in his voice that makes something in your chest loosen just slightly. “the club’s hiring,” he continues, easy, like he’s not dropping something that feels this big into your lap. “i’ve been working there here and there since before midsummers. they always need people.”

kie nods. “i heard it’s not bad either. good tips.”

you frown slightly. “the country club?”

jj shrugs. “yeah. i can talk to them. get you in pretty quick.”

you stare at him, the idea taking a second to settle. another job. just like that. no weird looks. no vague reasons. no feeling like you’re being pushed out of something you didn’t even understand. just… help.

“you’d really do that?” you ask.

he looks at you like it’s a dumb question. “yeah. obviously.”

you let out a small breath, something in your shoulders relaxing just a little.

“okay,” you say.

it feels strange, but not wrong. jj grins, satisfied, like that’s that, like the problem already has a solution now. kie leans back again, her expression softer, less tight around the edges. the boat rocks gently beneath you, the water stretching out in every direction, the sun dipping lower, everything quieter out here than it was on land.

jj’s arm stays around you, warm and steady, not asking anything, not expecting anything. and for the first time since this morning, you don’t feel like you’re about to fall apart. you lean into it.

nothing’s fixed.

not even close.

but… held.

the water gets quieter the longer you sit in it.

the three of you settle into a comfortable silence while you spend the rest of the day in the sun. it’s the kind of silence that only comes from people who've known each other long enough that words aren't always necessary. kie's head tips back toward the sky, her eyes closed. the boat rocks gently beneath you, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

your phone buzzes. once. twice. then again. and again.

it's a small sound, barely audible over the lap of water against the hull, but it cuts through the quiet like a knife. you feel jj tense beside you, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in that way he does when he's trying not to say something he probably should.

"whoever that is," he starts, voice tight with restrained irritation, "they're not givin’ up."

you let out a breath that's almost a laugh but not quite. "yeah."

kie makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a sigh. "you want me to throw it in the water for you?"

this time you do laugh, short and sharp and a little broken around the edges. "tempting."

you don't reach for it. you don't check it. you just leave it in your pocket as the hours pass.

eventually, the sky changes from blue to pinks and oranges, deepens to purple, then indigo, and the first stars start to prick through the darkening canvas above you.

it should feel like home. it does feel like home. but there's an ache underneath it now, something hollow and raw that wasn't there earlier today.

the sounds of the marsh come alive with crickets and frogs and the distant lap of water against the shore. you can smell the salt stronger now, can feel the humidity settling on your skin like a second layer, can taste the faint bitterness of the beer jj had handed you earlier still lingering on your tongue.

his shoulder presses more firmly against yours, a silent gesture of solidarity, and kie's head rests on yours, her skin warm through the fabric of your shirt. you're here, you're surrounded by people who showed up for you without you having to ask, who sat with you in your anger and your hurt and didn't try to explain it away or make it smaller than it was.

your phone buzzes again, a single long vibration that feels almost plaintive, and then it goes quiet. you don't pick it up. you don't check it. you just sit there between your friends as the stars come out one by one, feeling the distance between you and him stretch wider with every passing minute, every unanswered message, every moment of silence that says more than words ever could.

"you're gonna be okay," he says again, quieter this time, like he's reminding himself as much as he's reassuring you.

you want to believe him. you want to feel the certainty in his words settle into your bones and make a home there. but all you can feel is the weight of your phone beside you, silent now, and the hollow ache in your chest where something used to be.

eventually, though, reality creeps back in. you check your phone for the time, not the notifications, just the time, and see that it's past ten. your dad's probably asleep by now, but he'll notice if you're not home when he wakes up. the thought of leaving makes something in your chest tighten, a reluctance that feels almost physical.

"I should probably head out," you say quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that's settled over the three of you.

jj sits up, brushing off his shirt. "you sure? you can crash at mine if you want. couch is all yours."

the offer is genuine, and you're tempted. but you shake your head, pushing yourself to your feet. "my dad'll worry."

kie stands too, stretching her arms overhead with a soft groan. "we’ll walk with you."

the three of you walk together in easy silence, your footsteps crunching on the gravel drive. the street light casts long shadows across the ground, and you can see the outline of your car waiting in the darkness beyond. when you reach it, jj pulls you into a hug without warning, his arms wrapping around you tight and sure.

"seriously," he says into your hair, "you're gonna be fine. and if you're not, we'll figure it out. that's what we do."

you nod against his shoulder, not trusting your voice. when he releases you, kie steps in for her own hug, briefer but no less meaningful.

"text when you get home," she says, and it's not a request.

"I will."

you climb into your car and start the engine, watching them in your rearview mirror as you pull away. they stand there together, jj's arm slung over kie's shoulders, both of them watching until your taillights disappear around the bend. the image stays with you the whole drive home, a reminder of what's real, what matters, what won't abandon you when things get hard.

the house is dark when you pull into the driveway, just the porch light left on like always. you kill the engine and sit there for a moment, hands still gripping the steering wheel, staring at the familiar shape of home. your dad's truck is parked in its usual spot, and you can see the faint blue glow of the TV through the living room window. he probably fell asleep watching the news again.

you text kie first, then grab your bag and head inside, moving quietly through the house. the floorboards creak under your feet no matter how carefully you step, but your dad doesn't stir in his recliner. his head is tilted back, mouth slightly open, the remote still clutched loosely in his hand. you grab the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over him gently before heading up the stairs to your room.

it's only when you close your bedroom door behind you and pull your phone from your pocket that the weight of the day hits all at once. you've been ignoring it since you got on the boat. felt it buzzing against your leg in the car, ignored it then too. now you hold it in your palm like it might burn you, and the screen lights up immediately.

14 notifications.

they sit on your screen, stark and undeniable, and your stomach drops. you swipe to unlock it, and his unsaved contact fills the entire display. texts, missed calls, voicemails. they're stacked one on top of the other, a timeline of desperation that spans from early afternoon all the way to twenty minutes ago.

Unknown: Where are you

no punctuation, no context. just the question, blunt and demanding.

ten minutes later:

Unknown: Answer me

then, at 2:17 PM:

Unknown: You seriously ignoring me?

you stare at that one longer than the others, feeling something hot and bitter rise in your throat. he'd done nothing at all besides stand there and watch you get humiliated. why wouldn’t you ignore him?

the calls started around four. three in a row, all unanswered. then more texts:

Unknown: You think I wanted this?

Unknown: Just tell me where you are

Unknown: Come on.

the timestamps march forward relentlessly. 4:30. 5:15. 6:03. each message more insistent than the last, his frustration bleeding through the screen.

Unknown: We need to talk

another call at 6:44. then 7:01. then 7:56.

Unknown: Where the fuck are you?

Unknown: Answer the phone

you scroll through them all, watching his composure fracture in real time. by nine pm, the messages have shifted from demanding to something that almost sounds like pleading:

Unknown: Just let me explain

Unknown: Please.

that last word sits on your screen like a wound, raw and exposed. you've never seen him say please before. never heard him beg for anything. and some part of you, the part that still remembers what it felt like to wake up in his bed this morning, to wear his hoodie, to feel his hand at your back, wants to respond, wants to give him the chance to explain, to make this make sense.

but then you remember.

you remember standing on that dock with sofia’s practiced sympathy washing over you like acid. you remember the way your hands shook as you tried to process what she was saying, the way your vision blurred at the edges, the way the world tilted sideways and threatened to dump you into the water.

and you remember him.

standing close enough to understand exactly what was happening. close enough to see you falling apart. close enough to step in, to say something, to do literally anything.

and he didn't.

he just stood there and watched.

Unknown: I know you're getting these.

you sit down on the edge of your bed, phone clutched in both hands, and feel the full weight of it finally crash over you. not just the firing, not just the humiliation, but the betrayal. the abandonment. the reality that when it mattered, when you actually needed him to be more than just a secret, more than just a transaction, more than just a boy who fucked you in hidden corners, he chose himself.

he chose his comfort, his image, his carefully constructed world where you exist only in the margins, only in the dark, only when it's convenient.

and now he's angry that you won't answer. now he's desperate for your attention, flooding your phone with messages and calls, demanding explanations and conversations like he has any right to either.

like he didn't just prove exactly what you are to him.

you set the phone down on your nightstand and stare at it, watching the screen go dark. your hands are shaking again, but this time it's not from shock or fear. it's from anger. from hurt. from the crushing weight of realizing that you let yourself believe, even for a moment, even in the smallest, most secret part of your heart that he might actually care.

that he might actually choose you.

the room is quiet except for the sound of your own breathing, harsh and uneven in the darkness. you can hear your dad snoring softly down the hall, can hear the old house settling around you with its familiar creaks and groans, can hear the distant sound of the marsh through your open window.

and somewhere on the other side of the island, rafe is alone with his phone, still waiting for a response that isn't coming.

the thought should feel satisfying. it should feel like power, like control, like the upper hand.

instead, it just feels like loss.

the distance between you feels infinite now. not just physical distance, but something deeper, something that can't be measured in miles or minutes. it's the distance between who you thought he might be and who he actually is. between what you hoped this could become and what it's always been.

you lie back on your bed, still fully dressed, and stare at the ceiling. the ring is still around your neck, resting against your chest, warm from your skin. you reach up and touch it with your fingertips, feeling the weight of it, the reality of it, how he made you his in every way that mattered to him.

but when it came time to stand beside you, to be seen with you, to risk even the smallest fraction of his carefully maintained image, he let you fall alone.

the tears come quietly, slipping down your temples and into your hair. you don't sob, don't make a sound. you just lie there in the darkness and let yourself feel it all: the hurt, the anger, the grief for something that never really existed in the first place.

your phone buzzes one more time on the nightstand.

you don't reach for it.

you already know what it says.

-

☆ the quiet between us: masterlist ☆