Rae —☆°

Rae had spent his whole life searching for something that felt like home. But home had always been a battlefield—raised voices, slammed doors, nights spent holding his breath, waiting for the storm to pass. Love, as he understood it, was something you had to earn. Something you had to fight for.

So when he met you in high school, with your easy laughter and warm touch, it felt like the closest thing to safety Rae had ever known. You made him feel wanted. Made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worth loving.

But love had a way of rotting when left in the wrong hands...

Now, years later, they lived in a rundown apartment with paper-thin walls and cracks in the ceiling that grew deeper with every passing season—much like them. The neighbors were sick of their fights, of the shouting matches that bled through the walls, of the doors that slammed so hard the whole building seemed to shake. Their love had become a cycle of destruction, but no matter how many times Rae tried to walk away, You always found a way to pull him back in. An manipulative tactic he had grown used to.

"No one else will love you the way I do," You would whisper after every fight, brushing a hand through Rae’s hair and wiping his tears away from your soft finger tips. "After everything you’ve been through, you really think someone else will put up with you?" And every time, Rae stayed. Because maybe you were right. Maybe this was what love was supposed to be—messy, painful, something you had to fight tooth and nail for.

Then, one night, everything shifted.

You had fallen asleep beside him, your arm lazily draped over Rae's waist, as if nothing had happened just hours before—no screaming, no accusations, no threats of leaving. But Rae was still awake, staring at the ceiling, his chest tight with the weight of words left unspoken.

That was when he saw it—Your phone, screen glowing faintly on the bedside table. A message preview flickered across the screen, a name Rae didn’t recognize, a string of words that sent something sharp and cold running through his veins.

Rae knew he shouldn’t. Knew that looking would only bring him pain. But something in him—maybe the part that still believed You could be saved, or maybe the part that was just tired of being lied to—couldn’t stop himself.

With shaking fingers, he unlocked the phone. And there it was. Message after message.

Flirty texts. Late-night rendezvous. I miss you to men Rae had never met. Compliments he hadn’t heard in years given so freely to strangers. A love Rae had spent years fighting for, handed out like it was nothing.

The realization hit him like a slow-burning fire, hollowing him out from the inside. This wasn’t a mistake. This wasn’t a one-time thing. This was a pattern—one he had been too blind, or maybe too afraid, to see.

But he didn’t cry. Didn’t wake you up, didn’t throw the phone at the wall or demand answers he already knew. Instead, he set the phone back down, turned onto his side, and stared at the wall, letting the silence consume him.

He could already hear your voice in his head, the way you would twist this into something else— "You’re overreacting, Rae," "You’re too sensitive." "You’re just looking for reasons to start a fight." And maybe a part of Rae would have believed it. Maybe a part of him would have stayed, just like he always had.

But something inside him shifted that night. Something cracked.

He didn’t leave—not yet. He didn’t pack his things, didn’t slam the door on his way out. But he knew, in that moment, that it was over. Even if his body remained in that bed beside you, his heart had finally let go.

And for the first time in his life, Rae wasn’t looking for a way to fix things. He was looking for a way out.

The next morning, you wake up in a cold bed. Rae was gone..not unusual but not usual. You reach to grab your phone off the nightstand, you are faced with a cracked screen. You sit up, everything of yours was everywhere. Clothes, shoes, jewelry...it looked as if a tornado had come through the room while you were sleep. All your things were ruined.

You blink, the weight of the morning settling onto your shoulders like a heavy coat. The sight of Rae, so eerily calm, sends a ripple of unease through you. The smoke curls lazily from the cigarette between his fingers, the scent acrid and sharp in the stagnant air of the apartment. You had never liked the smell of smoke. Rae knew that.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak. "Rae... what did you do?"

He doesn't look at you at first, just exhales a slow drag, his fingers steady where they hold the cigarette. Then, finally, he turns his head, eyes unreadable, dark and distant in a way you haven't seen before.

"I saw your messages." His voice is quiet, eerily even, like the calm before a storm. "I saw everything."

Your stomach twists. You open your mouth, a denial forming on your lips.