salvation sequel [rafe x barry]

rich and blind

Rafe didn't answer at all, he pressed his lips together and glanced out of the window, at the Cut behind tinted glass.

He was never gonna be a pogue.

Never.

Although he scraped by it, and he spent more nights down at the cut than he'd like, and he was a thief and an addict and a criminal, and maybe he shared blood with some too. And Barry sure almost pulled him into that world. But he was never gonna be a part of it.

"You could at least fucking try and be a kook", Rafe said, still looking at the workshop.

It was silent after, and the kind of moment where you realize the motor isn't running and the AC is off and it's fucking hot in that car but any movement would attract to much attention.

Barry's lips had parted and Rafe didn't look over to take in the confusion on his face. It was always hard to guess why Rafe was in a bad mood, what minor stupid thing it was this time again, but this...was beyond what Barry could've imagined.

Try..and be a kook?

Not a single fucking second had he been aware that was what he was supposed to do. Not a word from Rafe could've suggested it, if anything, he made it clear that Barry so fucking wasn't.

Money made problems, but it also solved problems, to Rafe at least. And he'd just thought, the money would solve things between them too. Once Barry wasn't dependent on his money anymore, once Rafe didn't have that type of control to abuse, once Barry was apart of his world...things could be different.

This was some serious commitment type shit. Actual future type shit.

"Forget about it, okay?", Rafe said.

Rafe thought, if he had his own money, his own house on figure 8, one fight couldn't do as much damage anymore, they could stay like that. For a long time. And he'd thought his intentions had been pretty clear, when he put the offer on the table.

He stole from his father, with Barry. Wasn't that obvious enough? He gave him millions, an overpriced apology. What more did Barry expect. For him to say it?

God, Rafe wasn't so direct, let alone aware of his own feelings. The thought of letting (dragging) Barry into his world had been less than conscious, but it could've worked, if Barry hadn't pushed back that morning in his trailer, or maybe if Rafe had just been a little bit more honest about his intentions.

So yes, maybe Rafe expected a little bit of gratitude, or at least to be treated as little more than business partner and a warm mouth, maybe some fucking care.

„T..there's no money in this shithole is all I'm saying", he argued. "It's a shitty investment"

„I wouldn't do it for the money, Rafe, I just like working on cars", Barry replied.

"Yeah, do whatever you want, bro", Rafe nodded and didn't put in the slightest bit of effort to sound genuine.

Barry didn't entirely get it.

He didn't get what he'd done to anger Rafe by looking at properties, assumed maybe made him jealous, that he was gonna have his own, although small, small business.

But the kook talk had been enough even for him to understand. Rafe wanted him close.

He had the whole meeting with another jeweler to think about it, to glance at Rafe from the side and think. Act like a kook. What for? It's not like he had to look the part next to a non existent boyfriend. It's not like there were parents to impress.

The thought had made Barry's heart jump and for the first time, he had felt something like compassion, for the kind of addicts that bought his shit, and he used to look down upon for always coming back, despite declaring their sobriety. He wanted to go the fuck back, to fighting, to uncertainty, to fear of waking up with hands around his throat again, or not at all, when he fell asleep to the steady rhythm of Rafes breath in his arms. To drama, and mental breakdowns, and the thin line between loving and hurting they kept crossing.