salvation sequel [rafe x barry]

the fall of man

"No tree can grow to heaven unless it's roots reach hell"

When Ward slipped into a coma only minutes before arriving at the port, Rafe had thought it would be a few hours, then, once those passed, a few days, but even they did, and he kept thinking, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

It was his favorite solution anyways, tomorrow he'd quit coke, tomorrow he'd man up, tomorrow he'd get his shit together, tomorrow he'd be better. His father would call this kind of attitude laziness, but there were times where Rafe couldn't care less about tomorrow, and others, where he didn't even think it would come.

He'd only taken care of the most basic things, assuming that tomorrow, his father would be awake to tell him what to do anyways, and every other tomorrow, the pressure to act on his goddamn own  increased.

It was equal parts hope and fear, that had kept him from working it out. Years and years of being told he was stupid had a small minor impact on his confidence to make desicions, that only, you know, put his entire goddamn family at risk. So he'd stayed paralyzed, until...Barry.

"I just...I just don't know what the plan, was, you know, like, like, double lives or a complete new one?", Rafe explained his concerns after they'd walked into the office. "Cause like..did he wanna move the assets or keep a legal front or did he wan-"

"What do you think?", Barry interrupted.

"I-I dont know, that's the point, he had this all planned out, like, like, perfectly", Rafe stuttered and spotted a document on the desk, quickly pulling it and folding it behind his back, before Barry could read any more than the word swiss. "But I don't know the fucking plan, alright"

"Yeah, I meant what are you thinking, bro, you know, like, what' you want?", Barry clarified.

"I-", Rafe hesitated and looked around the office. "I mean if it was up to me I'd like..have both, you know, but I dont know if he-"

"It is up to you, bro", Barry shrugged and Rafe blinked a few times. Barry gave him a cautious smile and Rafe looked back blankly before his lips deformed into one aswell.

"Shit", he made, and there was a certain kind of thrill in the thought, the hair on his arm standing up like wind brushing against his unprotected skin when he sped his bike through the woods drunk at night, fear tightening his chest to such an extreme, he finally felt he could breathe.

A few lines later, Barry pulled a piece of paper from the desk. Five names written down in neat, curvy letters.

Rafe didn't write it, his handwriting was crap. Barry only saw it once, on a piece of paper Rafe rolled into a straw, and left on his small coffee table later on.
Giving it back, I promise, -Rafe; scribbled messily over a note, and the addressed person either never read it or Rafe didn't put it down in the first place, although it wasn't for Barry to figure that shit out.

This handwriting was clean and elegant, the initial of each name drawn as a exaggerated curve, one beneath the other.

"Which one's s'posed to be his and which one's mine?", Rafe asked, leaning over his shoulder to study the piece of paper with him, as if Barry held the answer to quite literally everything.

"Top is probably him?", Barry shrugged, handing it to Rafe.

"But I don't want this one. Sounds ridiculous, bro", Rafe complained, staring at the names.