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You were his friend first, before those Pogues stole you from him, even before Sarah met you in that sandbox at five years old. He had laid eyes on you first and had been the one to help you when you scraped your elbow on the concrete, giving you a bandaid for it. He was the one you hugged and thanked before skipping away.
You used to party with him, used to spend Sundays at Tanneyhill, used to comfort him after a fight with Ward, used to sleep in his arms on his bed almost every night. Now, he'd be lucky to get a single text back or catch a glimpse of you in public. After you followed his sister into the group of Pogues, you spent a total of two nights in his arms, the last time more than a week ago. Whenever he checks your location, he can't help but get irritated when he sees you at any of the Pogue's places.
When Wheezie tells him she saw you with JJ Maybanks, he breaks, leaving his sister in an empty house, scouting your location as he gets on his bike. He's on your trail as you sprint towards where his sister and John B. faces off his father, running right into Sarah's arms.
He witnesses Sheriff Peterkins arrest his dad, watching John B pull you behind him. He can't take it anymore, because you were his, even now that John B keeps you from watching the man you once respected get handcuffed.
Everything happens at once. He blinks and Peterkins lays on the ground in a pool of her own blood. His blue eyes meet yours, shock and fear swimming in yours as you stare back at him. A part of him breaks because never in his life have you stared at him with such fright. Not that he could blame you, he'd never shot anyone before. But he could blame John B.
He aims the gun at the Pogue and his blood boils with anger as you put yourself in front of him. The gun drops from his hand immediately, tears welling up in his eyes. He lost you.
He's pulling you to his truck, forcing you to sit in the passenger seat as his sister yells, crying her eyes out. His words are rushed as he tries to comfort you, avoiding your gaze, not wanting to look into your eyes and see how much you fear him.
He drives you to Tanneyhill, locking you in his room. Rafe tries to comfort you, letting you cry it out and shout at him. He allows you to throw a book at him, taking it all in because he'd rather you hate him for a moment than the rest of your life. Hatred for the Pogues builds when you don't let him touch you, pulling away from his attempts to hug you, to take you into his arms. The same hands that used to caress your face in your sleep now were the ones that murdered someone.
You slip his grip when he leaves the room briefly, running back to John B's and meeting with the rest of the crew. Rafe tweaks out even more after finding out you've turned off your location, throwing his phone on the ground.
He's at the tent when Shoupe tells you and your group of friends that Sarah and John B are presumed dead. Ward has to pull him away when you seek out comfort in JJ's arms instead of his.
After his trip to the Bahamas, he tries to reconcile with you, climbing up to your balcony on the verge of a panic attack. You lock your balcony doors, shutting the curtains and blocking out his pleas. That night, he tries to shoot up the Chateau, not aware you were hiding in the trees with JJ.
After John B's arrested and thrown in jail awaiting sentencing, you show up to his house. He's unaware of the phone in your back pocket, recording everything he's saying. He doesn't care that you're angry with him because, for the first time in months, you're willing to hear him out, willing to let him hold your hands and hold your face in his hands.
"You shot her, Rafe!" you yell out, not caring if Rose or Ward heard. "You killed someone."
Rafe whispers out your name, hands shaking as he holds your face in his hands. "You know I would never hurt you, right? I care about you. I love you. I love you more than those Pogues ever could."
Shaking your head, you pull his hands away from your face, pacing around his room. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "That's not what I'm trying to—"
"But I need you to know that!" Rafe shouts, tapping his fingers against his temples. He walks towards you, panting. "They don't care about you like I do! They put you in constant danger. I never would do that to you. They can't take care of you like I have. You know that. Deep down you know that."
"Rafe." you try to interrupt. This was so not how this was supposed to go.
He takes your face between his hands again, a little too roughly. His lips were barely a foot away. "You were mine first. You still are. No matter what you call yourself, you always will be mine. I'll take care of you. I fucking love you."
Even as you run away from him, hope grows in his heart. Delusion or maybe he knew you better than you knew yourself, but he knew you still cared for him. Even after he killed Peterkins. Or so that's what he tells himself when he's sitting in a holding cell.
After his father's death, he tries even harder to convince you he is still the same Rafe you grew up with. After stealing the cross from Carla Limbrey, he shows up at your place under the pretense of giving it back to Pope. In the midst of your surprise, you hadn't thought to be suspicious about the tea he gave you. As soon as you felt dizzy, you pointed your finger at him. He apologizes, carrying you in his arms to the truck.
When you wake, he's there on the bed, holding your hand. He can't help but find it hot when you slap him across the face, leaving a red mark on his cheek. Rafe holds you down as you scream profanities at him, trying to break free of his grip, doing anything to get away from his presence.
He locks you in the room, promising to make everything better, professing his love for you over and over before leaving to deal with business. The next time he sees you, you're stopping him from bashing John B's skull in. The red light flickers against your face and for the second time, you stopped him from killing John B.
Rafe races after you, begging you to stay with him, his grip on your wrist leaving a bruise. "Stay with me. Please."
He sees the slight hesitation, even if it's less than a second. His hand on your wrist loosens and you take off running, jumping off the ship and onto the little lifeboat driven by your Pogue friends. The cross drops into the ocean and he manages to save it last minute.
He raises a gun towards the stalled boat, aiming at his sister, the one who was responsible for bringing you with her as she befriended the Pogues. His finger twitches as he goes to pull the trigger, only to freeze when you stand up, blocking Sarah from his view.
You look back at the large ship, noticing Rafe with a gun in his hands. And for the second time, he drops the gun, staring as the lifeboat propels you out of his eyesight.
After a month, he sees you wearing a red dress in Carlos Singh's mansion. Both of you get locked up and you allow him to comfort you after seeing the man you rescued getting executed.
Swallowing his pride, he apologizes again, this time, you listen, because, after all, he's the only one that can help you. He apologizes for everything he's done, getting on his knees, eyes pleasing you to forgive him. When you don't say anything in return, his arms circle your waist, pressing his cheek to your torso.
Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. "Please. You're the only thing in this world I care about."
Working together, you both get out of Singh's property, catching a ride on the back of a truck. You looked away as Rafe threw a man off the truck, unable to watch your former best friend hurt another person.
As you both sail off on his boat, gunshots are heard across the dock as Singh's men try to stop you. Rafe has you steer the wheel, placing himself behind you, protecting you from any bullets that come close to hitting you. A bullet grazes his arm, red staining his white button-up.
You steer the boat into the ocean, texting your friends where to meet you before grabbing a kit and tending to Rafe's wound.
He watches as you clean his wound, eyes following your every movement. "Just like old times, huh? When you used to patch me up after a fight."
You scoff, unable to fight the small smile that danced on your lips. "Some things just don't change."
"I haven't seen you smile in so long." the words escape Rafe's lips before he can stop them, immediately regretting them when you stop smiling. He looks down, sighing. "Sorry."
You stay silent, patching him up. After putting on a bandage on his cut, you stand up, making your way back to the wheel.
Rafe stands, walking towards you slowly. He runs a hand down his face, frowning as you dock. "Is there any chance you'll forgive me?"
"I ... I don't think you're past unredeemable," you whisper, avoiding his gaze.
The Pogues board the boat, and you can't stop JJ from landing a right hook on Rafe's jaw. He puts distance between him and your friends, watching you play the mediator, defending him, even if it was half-ass. Rafe can't help but smirk slightly at JJ's disgruntled expression because despite what he's done, you've chosen him over them.
Though, when you return back to Kildare, Rafe's met with the version of you he's known for the past summer. You've chosen your pathetic group of friends, leaving his side the second the boat touched Kildare soil.
He tries to be better, tries to win you back. But when you leave his calls unanswered and texts unread, he goes crazy, seeking Barry's help to steal the cross from his own father. Before melting the cross, he calls you one more time, in hopes you'd stop him from making another mistake you'd have to forgive him for. He reaches your voicemail for the hundredth time.
The gold is sold off to his father's business partners and investors, the number in his bank account increasing with each passing day. He tells himself the more money he makes, the more he'll be able to provide for you and your future family, and the more he can spoil you with. Because if he can't have you, then no one can.
You show up at his door injured, shot in the stomach by one of Singh's men. Blood ran down your legs, staining your clothes. Rafe catches you as you collapse, pulling out his phone to call 911 only for you to stop him.
Anxious, he carefully carries you to his bed, helping you take off your top to examine the wound. He swallows, a part of him awakening at the sight of you wearing the bra he claimed as his favorite. Even as you bleed out, you still manage to look sexy.
He slows down the bleeding, cleansing the wound with a bottle of vodka, and muttering apologies as you swore at him for the pain. Stitching up the wound, he watches as your breathing slows down, your grip on his arm loosening. Fearing you'd die in your sleep, he keeps you awake by asking trivia questions, your annoyance groaning with every question.
Your eyes follow him as he gets on the bed with you, smoothly wrapping an arm around you and ignoring your judgment. The half-empty bottle of vodka rests in between the two of you; more often than not you take a sip from it, dulling the pain.
Rafe allows you to close your eyes, rubbing small circles on your shoulder with his thumb, his eyes observing the droplet of vodka resting on your lips for a second before your tongue licks it off. For the first time in a while, you relax in his presence, muscles slack as you let him comfort you.
"Do you still mean it? What you said on the boat," he murmurs, staring as your fingers absentmindedly played with his gold signet ring.
You nod lazily, humming in response. "I do."
"I melted the cross."
A pause. "That was a dick move, but you're not unredeemable. You've done a lot of shitty things, Rafe. Maybe I'm fucking stupid but I'm hoping the person who used to be my best friend is still there underneath the constant need for your dad's approval."
"It's not his approval I need," he whispers into your hair, his ring spun around his finger by yours.
Your eyes drift open, staring at him. The familiarity of your eyes, now no longer filled with contempt or unease, almost breaks him because he has you back again. "I still care for you. And I know you'll fix this."
He's thankful you close your eyes again, not wanting you to witness a tear running down his face. He wipes it off in your hair, kissing your forehead as you sleep.
You'll fix this.
Rafe stops the hitman from killing Ward.
You'll fix this.
Rafe drives him to the private jet, heart beating out of his chest as he sees you standing next to his sister.
He gets his father on the jet, telling you the cliff notes of what happened. With bloody hands, he holds your face in his hands as if it were the most delicate thing on Earth.
"I—I'm fixing it." he manages to get out, fingers trembling. Rafe tries to give you a smile but it's shaky.
Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Rafe, what—"
"Look, I know there's nothing I can say that can stop you from getting on that plane, so, please be careful, okay?" he whispers. Rafe doesn't wait for an answer, taking off his ring and putting it on your ring finger, never mind that it's far too big.
You stare at the ring for a moment before glancing back at him. "I can't—"
"I've fucked up a lot of things. But I'll fix it, all of it," he promises, bringing your hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
"I know," you reply, heart clenching at the broken man in front of you.
"But come back to me, okay? You are the one thing I can't lose. I love you. Come back to me, baby." Rafe chokes out, eyes watering while he pleads.
Without thinking about it, you press your lips to his, not caring about the audience behind you. It's urgent and intense, his lips almost punishing. You taste blood, and he tastes a bit of heaven.
His heart breaks in two when you get on the plane, knowing you've taken it with you.