Beside me | ONESHOTs

Once again, I'm standing before a door. But this time, it's not the door to a family house or an apartment building. No, now I'm outside a small café near the university I used to attend. This was the place where I last saw Rafael, and where we ended things in a fight.

I don't even remember what started it. I was in my second relationship—a destructive one—and barely noticed anyone else, not even Rafael. My world revolved around my partner, and I was completely obsessed.

I know Rafael was furious about something. I regret not remembering what made him so angry. I thought he'd just cool down and come back to me. But instead, he began ignoring me. And, so wrapped up in my lover, I didn't even try to reach out to him for an explanation. That's how we drifted apart.

Last night, I went to his parents' house, hoping to find out where he is now. I didn't get an answer, but I left with his phone number instead.

I called him as soon as I returned to my parents' house. Hearing his voice, the ordinary "Rafael Jey speaking. How can I help you?" felt like a blow. My throat tightened. His warm, familiar voice washed over me like lava, stirring everything I'd buried. I was terrified of reaching out to him again. He was once the closest person in my life, the one who knew every part of me—maybe even more than I knew myself. And yet, I pushed him away. Now, I need to know why. What did I do to make him leave?

"Hello?" His voice sounded from the phone as I hesitated in silence.

I cleared my throat and began. "Uh... Hey, Rafael. It's Nowa."

Silence.

Then a loud beep as he hung up.

"Shit," I muttered, cursing myself. I should have expected this reaction. To him, I was probably an "asshole" too—someone unworthy of a second glance.

I knew this was my reality, but it hurt. I ignored him, and I know I deserve this. But... it's Rafael. He was once the only person I truly trusted. And I acted like an idiot. Have I ever interacted with anyone without making a mess of it? Probably not.

I called him again.

Nothing.

Once, twice, three times—finally, he picked up on the sixth try, probably too fed up to ignore me anymore.

"What do you want after all this time, Nowa? Hm?" His voice was sharp, but even that edge couldn't hide its familiar warmth—the same bright tone that always sounded so steady, even when he was annoyed.

God, I didn't realize just how much I missed him until I heard his voice.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out before I could even think. Then I calmed myself down to say more.

"I'm sorry for bothering you after all this time. Can we talk? Please? I want to meet up, to talk and apologize properly. Could we, Rafael? Please?" I wasn't one to beg, but sometimes you have to. And this was one of those times. "I'd understand if you don't want to, but I'm asking you—just one last time. Even if it's just to punch me in my pathetic face, even if you call me the biggest fool in the world. Just once, Rafael," I continued, breathless, afraid to stop. Terrified of his reply.

But eventually, there had to be a reply.

He sighed. I could almost picture him, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration like he used to when I pushed his patience. "When?"

"...tomorrow?" I almost whispered, bracing myself for the scolding I half-expected. No, that had been back then, before everything changed. Now, we were strangers. Maybe. I hoped not.

"Where?" His tone was steady, unaffected.

"You remember that little, relatively unfrequented, café we found once? Café Monica?"

"Yeah. So, tomorrow at five?"

"Understood. Thank you, Rafael."

He said nothing more, and before I could wish him a good night, he hung up.

I finally exhaled. He was willing to meet. That was what mattered. If we fought, if he left hating me... it would be okay, even if it hurt. Because I deserved it.

So here I am, opening the door and greeting a young girl behind the counter—a new face. I glanced around; there weren't many people here. Almost no one. Lucky me.

I chose a table in the corner, partly hidden by plants so that others wouldn't have a clear view of us.

I'd arrived too early, so I pre-ordered—a cream tea for Rafael and a black coffee, no sugar, for myself. I guessed he might want that. He used to hate coffee, at least back then. Who knows what he likes now?

Now, all that was left was to wait. I sat, stiff and tense, with all kinds of ridiculous questions running through my mind.

Do I look okay?

Do I smell all right?

Are my clothes clean and perfectly ironed?

Gosh, I'm truly hopeless. It's just Rafael, not an interviewer for some high-stakes job.

But waiting for someone I owed an apology to was…awkward, to say the least. And on top of that, he was once my best friend. My guiding light. The one I was too blind to see, too careless to follow.

The bell over the door chimed softly. Instinctively, my gaze shifted to the entrance, my gut telling me it would be Rafael (or maybe I was just paranoid). But when I saw him, my heart stopped.

He was different yet unmistakably the same. More mature, more striking—all traces of the boyishness I remembered had vanished. Standing there was a man. But the way he held his back straight, the tension in his shoulders, the slim yet powerful build, and those bright green eyes that scanned the surroundings until they found mine—those were still the same.

I gulped and forced myself to stand, even though my knees threatened to buckle beneath me.

"Hey," I managed, my voice cracking slightly.

He didn't respond immediately, his expression unreadable, which only made me more nervous.

Calm down, Nowa. Breathe.

Rafael gave a small nod, his gaze flickering around the room once more before settling on me. "Hey." He slid into the seat across from me, and a tense, heavy silence fell between us.

"Uh—" I began, trying to break the awkward quiet, but he held up a hand, stopping me.

"Wait," he said, taking a deep breath. "Just… give me a minute. I need to get used to seeing your face again."

I nodded, understanding, and closed my mouth. What else could I do?

We sat there, staring at each other, his expression impossible to read.

Just when the intensity of his gaze started to make me feel like I'd crawl out of my own skin, the waitress appeared, setting our drinks on the table with a gentle, "Enjoy."

I reached for my coffee, just to give my hands something to hold. The cup felt warm, grounding me as I wrestled with the words I wanted to say.

Rafael glanced down at his cream tea, his eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. "You still remember?"

"Yeah. You used to complain every time you had to drink coffee, saying it was awful. This was the only drink you liked." The tension in my body started to ease with each word, and the tightness in my voice began to fade.

He took a small sip, furrowing his brows slightly in a look that was… endearing.

Wait—endearing?

I shook my head, pushing away the distracting thoughts. "Can I… start?"

He took another sip and nodded. "Yeah. But… I want to know. Why now, Nowa?" His green eyes were cold but filled with a quiet, deep sadness. "What made you remember me after all these years?"

I swallowed, feeling every bit of the carefully rehearsed apology I'd prepared slipping away, like he had back then.

"I… I don't know," I admitted. "I know it's been a long time, but lately, I've realized just how selfish I was, how blind. And of everyone I hurt, you were the one who had to bear the most. Until the day you left, and I didn't even go after you. So, if there's anyone I owe an apology to, it's you. If… you'd even want to hear it."

He pressed his lips into a thin line, looking away, his gaze distant. Was he as overwhelmed by all this as I was?

"It's too late, Nowa," he whispered, and my heart sank.

Too late? Too late for what, Rafael? Have I really done so much damage that you can't bear to have anything to do with me?

He exhaled sharply, his eyes meeting mine, filled with a pain he'd held back for far too long. "I waited for you to come to your senses after I left, thinking maybe you'd reach out. But you didn't. You never looked back. You never saw me again. I wanted to, believe me—I wanted to be by your side again. But…" He inhaled, as though steeling himself, and continued. "But I knew that being with you hurt too much. It was easier to stay away."

"Why?" The word slipped out before I could think, my voice tinged with desperation. I leaned across the table, closer to him. "What did I do to make you feel that way? Tell me, Rafael. I want to understand how I hurt you, so I can fix it. Even if it's late." I hadn't noticed when, but I was holding his hands tightly. "Please."

He gasped softly, his lips parting as if to respond, but he hesitated, struggling to find the right words.

"What hurt me… were my feelings for you," he finally murmured, his voice barely audible. He freed his hands from my grasp, gripping his tea cup as his breaths came shallow and trembling, trying to steady himself.

"…What?" I couldn't process it.

I stared at him, struggling to comprehend his words. Feelings? I had suspected Rafael's hurt ran deep, but… this?

"You cared about me… that way?" I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper, still reeling. Me? Rafael had feelings for me?

Rafael looked away, his hands gripping his cup tightly. "I don't know if 'cared' is even the right word anymore. I wanted more than just friendship. I waited, dropping hints, hoping you'd notice. I wanted to tell you, but I never dared to break through the haze of your other relationships."

The weight of his words settled over me, sharper than I'd expected. And then, piece by piece, it all came back—his lingering gazes, those moments when he was there for me, the signs I'd ignored. How blind I had been. My chest tightened with an overwhelming shame and guilt I hadn't fully felt until now.

"Rafael, I—" I swallowed, struggling to find something, anything, to make this right. "I'm sorry. I never realized. But you have to know… you were everything to me, too. I just… I took you for granted." I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling lost. How had he endured it all? He loved me, and yet I'd gone to him for everything, spilling every detail of my reckless love life. He was there when I cried over my broken heart with Dylon, silently by my side, and when I destroyed myself in my next relationship.

Is that why he left?

Now I understood. To him, I'd brought only misery and bitterness. How blind, how thoughtless, I'd been.

He let out a bitter laugh, looking down. "You know, Nowa, it took a long time to move past it. To accept that I didn't matter as much as I thought I did."

A sick feeling twisted in my stomach. I felt disgusted with myself. "No. No, you did matter. Then and now. That's why I'm even here to apologize."

"Isn't it just guilt, though?" he asked, smirking, but there was no humor in it. "A way to make yourself feel better? To finally be free of your past mistakes?"

I trembled, wanting to scream, wanting to cry. How much more miserable could I become?

"No." I'd thought that at first. I'd wanted someone to blame for everything, but after talking with my parents, I realized I could only blame myself. "You…" The words caught in my throat, and I clenched my fists, forcing myself to continue.

"No. It's not that," I said, meeting his gaze. I wasn't sure what expression I wore, but something in my eyes must have struck him. He looked stunned. Did I look miserable? Regretful? That was likely.

Rafael's gaze softened, but he kept his guard up. "It's easy to say that now, isn't it?"

The truth of his words stung, but I nodded. "I know. I know I'm a coward. I don't expect you to stay with me after all I've done. I just want to… I want to know how you are, if you're alright, if you missed me like I…" I stopped, the words catching in my throat. Didn't I just say I don't want him to feel any closeness with me again?

Rafael's eyes narrowed, his smirk faltering as he listened to me stumble over my words. "If you missed me so much, Nowa," he murmured, his voice laced with bitterness, "why didn't you come back sooner?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but the truth lodged in my throat. I couldn't change the past, couldn't erase the years he'd spent waiting while I ignored what had been right in front of me. And if I told him that it took breaking up for the fourth time to finally understand, it would only hurt him more.

Rafael leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. "If you really mean it, then prove it." He paused, his expression guarded, but I caught a glint of something vulnerable beneath. "Apologies don't fix anything, Nowa. Not after what you put me through."

"What do you want from me?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice. I wanted to do something—anything—to earn his forgiveness. I knew I was being selfish again, but Rafael meant too much to me to let him go now.

A faint, mocking smile touched his lips. "You've always been a coward, hiding behind apologies when it's convenient. But words… they're just empty noise." He took a breath, as if trying to steel himself. "If you really want me to believe you're sorry, then give me what I wanted most back then, aside from your love. One night. No excuses, no strings attached. Then we'll be done. I'll finally let go of all the attachment and lingering feelings I have for you, be free of you… and you'll be forgiven."

I froze, his meaning sinking in. "Rafael… you don't mean that." He couldn't be serious. At least, I hoped he wasn't.

"Oh, but I do," he replied, his voice unwavering. "It's all I want. One night. After that, you can go back to your life, free of guilt."

His words stung like a slap. He wasn't the Rafael I remembered; he was someone hardened, desperate to escape his own feelings. And yet, I could somehow see through it, the remnants of something real hidden behind his bitterness. I wanted to tell him no, that he deserved more than just one night stand with asshole like me—but I felt trapped by my own guilt and his anguish.

We didn't say much more. We finished our drinks, and somehow—almost without thinking—we ended up at the nearest hotel.

Once inside, Rafael's hands found mine, but the touch felt hollow, detached. He tried to hide it, the sadness in his gaze, but I saw it as he moved closer, the anguish he was trying to bury.

"Rafael," I murmured, stopping him. My voice shook as I held his face between my hands. "This isn't right. I don't want to hurt you again."

A flicker of pain crossed his face. "You think I care?"

"Yes," I replied softly. "You don't deserve this, Rafael. You deserve better. I was selfish. You deserve someone who won't hurt you."

His breath hitched, and I saw his mask begin to crack, the anger fading. "Shut up," he whispered, then, with unexpected strength, grabbed my collar and pulled me onto the bed. "Shut up and fuck me, Nowa." He sat on my thighs, leaned down, and… kissed me. Our lips met, and in my shock, all I could think about was how soft, warm, and sweet his lips were.

Damn.

I couldn't resist—not with this addictive sweetness drawing me in.I kissed him back with a fierce hunger, losing myself in the heat of him. My hands slid up his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt as our lips pressed harder, his fingers tangling in my hair. I could feel the desperation in his touch, the need he was pouring into every kiss, every pull, every breath. But beneath it all, there was something broken, something that felt… wrong.

Rafael shifted closer, pressing his body into mine, his hands moving with a roughness that spoke of a pain he was trying to bury. The more he kissed me, the more I felt it—the hurt behind his desire, the longing that had turned bitter.

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. His eyes were glazed with something that looked like both need and despair. 

"Rafael…" I murmured, trying to find the right words, my heart pounding. But he only tightened his grip on me, a plea lingering in his gaze as he leaned in again.

"Please, Nowa," he whispered, voice barely a breath. "Just… let me have this."

My chest tightened, realizing he was asking for this as a way to rid himself of me, to erase whatever feelings he had left. I reached up, cupping his face between my hands. "Rafael, this… this isn't what you deserve. I don't want to be someone you use to destroy yourself completly."

His expression faltered, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through. "I just want to forget you," he whispered, his voice cracking. "If this is the only way, then—"

"No," I interrupted softly, pulling him close, resting my forehead against his. "You mean too much to me to let this be how it ends. I don't want to hurt you like this… not again."

He looked away, his face twisting with frustration and confusion, but he didn't pull back. I held him tightly, my fingers brushing his cheek as I whispered, "Let me stay… but not like this. Let me show you what you deserve, Rafael. I know I'm far from perfect, that I have a long way to go… but I want to change."

For a moment, he was still, the tension slowly melting as he softened in my arms. When he finally looked up, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, shadowed with uncertainty.

"Then… show me," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

I smiled, feeling the last of my tension fade away. All that remained was Rafael in my arms and a strange fullness inside me, like something long lost had finally come home. And that something… was Rafael. Now, I was certain of it.

I know I'm not perfect.

I know I'll give him a hard time.

I know there are still many apologies to make, to him and to others.

But I want to try.

If not for myself, then for Rafael.

Because I think I've finally found what others call the "safe harbor" in life, a place that feels like home.

Thank you, Rafael, for loving me. For enduring all the pain I caused you.

Thank you for being the light at the end of my road.

Thank you for being a beacon for a lost wanderer.