"I will not let this river break me just so God can have something to heal"
Rafe knew he wasn't the one to judge whether Barry's actions had been justified or not. Not for having done much worse, but simply for the offhand fact that he wasn't the sanest in the head to make accurate judgements about such things.
At least, that's what Barry told him. He told him plenty of stuff, and Rafe only listen to half, and replied to none of it.
"You know how that fucking feels when you get inside your head and leave me alone out here, huh?"
"You'on know what's good for you, Country Club, but I do"
"These things don't get better by running from them, alright, maybe a few days sober will have you realize"
"Think I like having to push it on you? You just need to learn to fucking listen, bro"
"Hey! Where you at", Barry asked suddenly and pressed his head forward with his fingers spread at the back of his skull to shake him slightly, indicating he meant inside his head.
"Yeah", Rafe said, after not having spoke for half an hour, gaze somewhere frozen to the ground. "You're right"
"Rafe that's exactly what the fuck I'm talking about"
"Oh", Rafe made and nodded in agreement. "Yeah"
Barry sighed, slightly shaking his head. "What were you just thinking about, bro?"
Rafe hated the spotlight it put him on, he would've rather had Barry's rambling as background noise to his thoughts for a while longer.
He gazed up from under his eyebrows, displaying slight annoyance. "Drugs", he admitted.
This day, it felt like an eternity until Rose finally called for the family dinner. Those things had already been unbearable before they got here, and Sarah missing from the picture didn't even make it any better.
It was simply just the worst time of the day, on he began to avoid almost religiously once he grew old enough to skip out on fights over the wide dining table at Tanneyhill. Looking back, he couldn't remember a single time his whole family spent together around that table where no one made a snarky comment towards one another. And yet Ward insisted on these kind of routines that implied the perfect fucking family.
Rose put down a few plates she'd lovingly dumped the contents of take out boxes onto, before silently setting the drinks she had prepared down at their places. "Aww!", Wheezie made at her soda, garnished with intricately shaped ice cubes, carefully cut lime and the spiral of a lemon zest, topped off with a cute straw.
Rafe didn't exactly get the time to marvel at her manifestation of utter boredom in his own drink, Barry had snatched it along with his own, dumping the whole thing into the sink. "Thanks, but Rafes not drinking that", he apologized politely.
Rafe chewed at the inside of his cheek. Rose's surprised face was an insult to him, and he nodded. "Yeah, you know, cause I'm not a fucking alcoholic like other people in this household, alright"
He reached for Wheezies glass across the table, snatching it from her. "I prefer soda"
Raised his eyebrows at Rose, pulling on the pink straw. He'd rather fucking die than admit Barry had a fucking say in what he drank, or did. But it looked like, maybe she understood exactly, eyes traveling between Barry and Rafe, and a barley noticeable smile of satisfaction settling on her lips.
"Yeah, me too, man", Barry agreed, walking back over.
The first bite Rafe took of his dinner damn near made him throw up again, and he barley managed to reach for a napkin and spit into it.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for just a second, his gag reflex had pushed tears back into them immediately, but he didn't get the moment to catch himself.
Rose had thrown her fork into the plate with a loud clink, before she snapped: "I didn't even cook this"
At some point, Rafes constant insults and complaints just reached a limit even she could not tolerate. He'd never quite had the manners, but it seemed like sometimes he acted even worse on purpose, just to piss her off. Usually more so when his father wasn't there to scold him about it.
Rafe needed a moment to process that his involuntary reaction to the food had been read as disrespect, something he preferred indefinitely to the loss of control it had actually meant, in every way.
"Yeah well seafood fucking sucks", he just spat back.
They cut dinner short as always. It was always at least one of them who got up and fled the constant argument over pointless shit. Usually Rose, because it was three against her, but sometimes Wheezie, when both Rafe and Rose had picked her as the target of the day for their complaints, while Barry was spared, and his mere presence to jump into arguments when it got to it, spared Rafe of being the sole target too.
Rafe scraped most of his dinner into the trash, bent down over the can his neck flashed red where Barry had held him down, and he reached out his hand to let gentle fingertips trace the irritated skin. Rafe only twitched ever so slightly, before holding still.
"You got me a little rough earlier", Barry barley apologized, his thumb stroking lightly at the side of Rafes neck, so painfully soft he felt like crying. He made a gesture with his hand as if to display it didn't matter anymore, although he couldn't find the words or strength to say it, so Barry continued. "But this don't have to happen again. I'll help you through it, you know?"
How kind. Barry would help Rafe not to drink, so Barry didn't have to punish him again. Wasn't he getting such a good deal. Every other addict had it harder than him, for sure.
"I was wrong", Rafe admitted, the words rolling of his tongue ever so slowly, as if he wasn't ready to let them go. He turned around to see Barry smile softly.
"You are a bad person"
"You too", Barry whispered getting closer, before connecting their lips.
Rafe didn't draw back nor did he react to it, and who the hell gave a fuck if Barry looked concerned about it. Rafe didn't have it in him to pretend he didn't have to be.
"I..need to check up on my dad", he said. Right now, it was the only room in the house Barry couldn't follow him into, or at least had the curtesy not to. And he needed to be alone.
He remembered Wards expressions of disappointment when Rafe showed him his burned wrist. Deeper, around the eyes, and more pained, than it had been when it was just about the stolen watch in his hands. Why didn't you just fight back?
He remembered Ward telling him at 14, as the men of the family, they needed to protect his sisters from bad boyfriends. Men that would hurt them. Rafe had stubbornly done the opposite, cause fuck his sisters.
He remembered Ward beating Barry to pulp. Even now, in a coma, the man was protecting him more than Rafe could ever protect himself. The kicks to Barry's stomach had hurt Rafe as if it was his own, one after the other, a manifestation of his own weakness, that his father had to fill in for.
There were times Rafe felt less weak.
After a line. When he caved someones face in with his knuckles. When a girl got tense because he stood too close. Doing bumps. When he yelled at an employee or service staff. When he was drunk. When he was coked out, god, like he'd never been weak in his life. In gym with his friends. On cocaine. Mighty white powder.
There were times Rafe felt more weak.
Waking up after a bender, shakily and dehydrated. When aching for a drink. When cumming into Barry's hand. When getting yelled at by his father. When he was sober. When he felt, undeniably, with ever nerve of his body, he needed drugs and the realization only making him reach for more, to create the illusion of freedom while tightening his shackles with ever line or hit or sip. Weak, when that illusion faded.
And maybe that was the point.
This wasn't about Rafes well-being. Like Barry gave a shit. This was about making him weak again. This was about turning him back into an animal. This was about taking away what he needed to function, because Barry couldn't fucking have him functioning, nah, he needed him like this. Desperate, craving, suffering, depended on him. This was about making Rafe feel pathetic for the addict he was.
Rafe stepped into the office quietly, Barry acknowledging him with a swift look up from the papers in front of him; the scene scarily familiar, although usually Barry wasn't a part of it. The sun left an orange tint on his dark hair, slowly setting through the window, the same rays illuminating the whiskey to liquid gold on the bar at the other side of the room. Rafe walked over with calm deliberation.
He could feel Barry's eyes on him as he reached for the bottle, shaky fingers steadying around the expensive glass when he grabbed it, calming only slightly once he'd finished his presentation of pouring himself a drink. He'd assumed Barry would end the dooming silence earlier, instead he just followed quietly, the sound of Rafes heart loud and tight in his chest.
Maybe to give Rafe the chance to set the glass back down, and to watch him painfully make the decision not to with every second of silence that dragged on. Rafe swallowed dryly, bending back up and slowly leaning back against a book shelf for support, although he tried to make it look cool and easy.
By the time he raised his hand, it wasn't even shaking anymore, toasting the glass in Barrys direction and nodding, before he set it to his lips. Rafe hated himself for the fear he felt, as Barry watched him drink before pushing himself up from his chair, and from that hatred, he pulled his strength. Despite the liquid, his mouth felt dry, when Barry walked around the desk. He let out a tired sigh that had Rafe tense. The only way to go now, was full in.
"Alright, Babyboy, if th-", he finally started and Rafe cut him off.
"I'm not even gay, you know", he interrupted swiftly. A light shrug of his shoulders, lips pressed into an apologetic line before he took another sip, burning down his raw throat. Barry stopped, let out a mandatory chuckle. What even.
"You just figured that out or what?", he asked, mocking more accent than tone to his voice anyways.
"Yeah, just earlier when I was talking to my dad", Rafe replied all seriously, pointing back over his shoulder. Talking to was quite the overstatement, considering the man couldn't offer too much feedback altogether. But maybe that's exactly how Rafe preferred it anyways.
"Of course", Barry snorted. Fucking Ward Cameron. Even in a coma, he annoyed the shit out of him. Barry nudged his head. "So..did you just forget about, like, the time you-"
"-you forced me to suck you off? To safe my fucking life?", Rafe cut him off, voice still bitter from the scotch on his tongue.
"Rafe-"
"Nah, I remember that"
Barry chuckled defensively, it was best he had in stock anyways, although not entirely sufficient in covering up the insecurity in his voice. "Bro..come on..it wasn't all like that, right?"
Rafe heard it, anyways, and stared back quietly to get a taste of more.
"What about all the other times, huh, did I force you to ride my cock like a needy cunt, bitch?", Barry spat and watched Rafe scrunch his face in disgust.
"I was confused, alright.", he admitted bravely. He had his crazy side, too obvious, these days, to deny. He got delusional some times, Barry knew, and had feared it, that this wasn't more than some kind of episode for Rafe, feared and still hoped for the opposite. Rafe raised his hand with the glass, a finger spread to point at Barry. "But I can see things clearly now, okay, I see- I see exactly who you are"
Barry wanted to ask who that was, and didn't, saw fine by himself, was aware, of his roughness, his aggression, his ruthlessness and all the other unlovable parts he tried to make up for by caring so deeply for the boy.
"So..that's what it was to you, huh? We- We fucked? Thats it?", he asked, nodding along, while Rafe took a relishing sip of his drink, before he shrugged.
"You had a good time, right?", he smiled.
It would've hypocritical to pretend Barry hadn't know what he walked into. At the beginning of it all, Barry had believed exactly that: Rafe was confused, and somewhat under shock, when he kissed Barry, when he took him to his room, when he fell all too quickly, and yeah, Barry had too good a time to care. Assumed, maybe, Rafe couldn't really tell the difference between love and drugs, and the euphoria in your stomach from butterflies cheesy authors wrote about.
And then, because Barry was just human and maybe not all that hard he pretended to be, he'd started believing himself, painfully desperate for it to be true just one time; he was loved. Hope breeds eternal misery, and so does falling for a goddamn addict.
"I'm sorry I hurt you earlier", Barry said rationally, "It's fair you're upset right now"
Rafe grinned widely, almost splitting his entire Face with a twisted sense or amusement.
"That's not what this is about", he replied and smiled, gesturing with the glass again. "Although you did make me realize a few things, so thanks for that"
"What's it then?", he asked, circling his finger between him and Rafe.
"A break up?"
The boy Barry liked, the one who's addiction he fueled, making him ever more depended on him—maybe just a little too intentional to call it love—the boy starving for affection and approval, the boy he impressed with controlled manner like his dad, and loving nature so unlike him, the boy who liked Barry back, or believed he did, was dead.
Died with his father or maybe by the time his hair fell, or even some time later, knees on heated bathroom tiles, or maybe just now, had to be killed, with pain and violence that didn't reflect on Rafes face when pulled the trigger on himself, nodded. "I guess"
He turned around to put the glass down on the shelf, slowly, before solemnly turning around, man now, mature, now.
"That doesn't mean I don't want you here, alright", he explained and gestured with his hand. "I dont care that you, you know, took advantage of the situation, okay, cause I like you, as a friend. I'm not..mad or anything, like, we're cool"
Rafe was big enough of a person to forgive, even as the clear and only victim here.
"I'm not your friend, bro", Barry clarified. "I never was".
Rafe sucked in his cheek, nodded. "Yeah, whatever, bro", he said and headed for the door, afraid, maybe, not all of him was dead yet and that boy crawled to the surface, tears threatening his eyes. "I'm going to bed"
"What the fuck, Rafe", Barry yelled with Rafe almost at the door already, thinking seriously, he could throw a bunch of cryptic shit into the room and leave, just like that. Going to goddamn bed. "What the fuck? You're so wrong for doing this to me, so wrong"
"Oh, I'm sorry I'm like, not fucking gay, alright, it's not a fucking choice", Rafe hissed, his sexuality a nice excuse to hide behind, and put everything he hated about himself onto, weakness, softness —gay shit, ya know— and throwing it out the window.
"No it's not a choice but you're trying to make it you fucking idiot", Barry yelled. "Just dont fucking expect me to stick around for it. You walk out now, I'm fucking gone, bro."
"What? Was I supposed to know you helping me was just an excuse to get into my pants?", Rafe asked, his voice sharp and pointed, like a dagger.
"It was never about that, bitch, never", Barry said, shaking his head. "Once you come down from whatever fucking trip you're on right now you're going to regret this and you'll call me begging to come back. And I won't fucking answer, Rafe, I won't. I'm sick and tired of you bullshit"
"So? I don't need you. I don't need anyone, bro. I'm fucking fine on my own, always been", Rafe proclaimed and Barry chuckled coldly.
"Yeah. You're so fucking fine, Babyboy, that's right."
"Yeah, and isn't this exactly what this is about?", Rafe asked, taking a step towards him, an unsettling calmness to his presence. "You went for me when I was at the lowest, weakest fucking point of my life. And you don't even want me any other way"
Barry and Rafe had know each other for fucking years and done just fine without throwing themselves at each other.
Rafe had a goddamn excuse. He hadn't been all that gay before he lived through the most traumatic event of his life, only the occasional fantasy when the thought of fucking a girl became too boring late at night, but that was natural, with the white lady already in his brains.
Barry? Oh he didn't seem to realize his attraction for Rafe until he had utter control of the boy, crying and shaking in front of him. In withdrawals, under shock, and vulnerable. Maybe he was a bad person, but at this point, it didn't make Rafe love him any more.
"Yeah, exactly, I was there for you in your worst times, bro, I was there, alright", Barry pointed out.
Because for whatever fucked up reason he liked that. And he needed that, needed Rafe to need him. Wanted Rafe miserable, found comfort in it, purpose, shit—it probably fucking turned him on, when Rafe cried.
"It's always been like this, Rafe", Barry noticed, sadly huffing a laugh and shaking his head. "You needed me to pick up the scraps of you from the floor and now that you're standing again you push me away"
"I'm being nice to you!", Rafe yelled. "I should kill you for what you know...and what I know about the kind of person you are"
God, he fucking should. As soon as his father woke up Rose would tell him. Remember that shady dealer that turned Rafe in? Yeah, he was here, I mean, Rafe brought him here. He has our new names, our address, he knows you're alive. Oh, and..Rafe broke his heart and then he let him go. Anyways, how are you feeling, honey?
"The kind of person that I am? Rafe, you are a murderer!"
Barry yelled, maybe for fear and realizing for himself, that if Rafe was any smarter than he pretended to be, he should fucking kill him and maybe that was just his question here. Will you stay and support me for nothing in return..or will you go and die?
It was awfully quiet, as Rafe silently stared. It wasn't fair to say it, and Barry rarely ever did. He knew better than to bring it up, but simply had to remind Rafe of his place in all this. He was a murderer. He was the bad guy, here.
He didn't seem to have anything to say against that simple fact, fighting to keep his face as cold as possible, so Barry nodded.
"Who's ever gonna love you?"
The one good thing about Rafes old self was his weakness. That way, at least, the version was easy to beat down inside of him.
The time of relying on a stronger man to help him out of his troubles —Barry troubles in particular— were over, there was no stronger man, there was just Rafe, and the need to be that. He chewed at his cheek to the point it must've bled.
"Trust me", he said, and raised his shoulders in a light shrug, lingering in the doorframe. "I figured that long before you did"
notes
Fight scenes like these are hard to write but I think this was the last one like that for the rest of the story.
I don't know about you guys but I'm kinda sick and tired of the sad chapters...time for some hot smut soon.
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