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Truthfully, Raffy thinks getting into fights is juvenile. Idiotic. Completely avoidable, if you just use your words instead of your fists. Or flirt your way out of them.
That being said, watching Rome punch Jack had been… hot. There isn’t any point in trying to pretend otherwise, really. It had been hot. Juvenile and idiotic, yes. Completely avoidable, sure. But hot nonetheless. Raffy had held Rome back, glaring at Jack and Dean in equal measure for once as Timmy yelled, and there had been no denying how gratifying it felt to have someone fight for him. Raffy has never had that before.
And now, he’s the one fighting for Rome. Raffy has also never had that before—someone to fight for. There’s just one problem: he doesn’t know how to fight for someone. With his fists or otherwise.
He thinks about it as he lies in bed that night, alone. He’d been hoping to spend the night with Rome, but he hadn’t factored in Rome’s rejection. Not that Raffy doesn’t understand, of course. He knows, objectively, that he’s put Rome through the ringer not an unsubstantial amount of times in the time they’ve known each other, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t kind of… assumed that Rome would forgive him immediately and welcome his advances. Rome had always been so forgiving before, even when Raffy didn’t deserve it.
“You don’t deserve it now,” he mutters to himself, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. “Just because you’ve finally come to your senses does not mean the hurtful things you’ve done to Rome are just erased.”
He’s been reminding himself of that since leaving Rome’s place, and although it hasn’t completely sunk in, the process has been humbling, to say the least. It isn’t often that he considers the fact that he’s kind of a piece of shit, and sitting in that feeling has been great. Helpful. Definitely something he needed, and not at all damaging to his self-esteem.
“If you want Rome back,” he continues, “you’re going to have to show him that you’re serious. You have to woo him. Not sure how, but that’s what the internet says.” With a groan, Raffy covers his face with his hands. “He’s never going to take me back. Not even back, he’s never going to take me in the first place. Literally how do you pursue someone?”
Raffy throws his memory back to first meeting Rome. The way he pursued Raffy, confident and unapologetic. Shameless. Completely at odds with the people who usually approach Raffy, entirely the opposite of the type of person Raffy usually entertains.
And yet.
“Well,” Raffy says, determination growing. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”
He decides to start small — bringing wound care cream to school for the cut on Rome's lip, courtesy of Jack’s fist.
“It’s just a little bruised,” Rome protests, swatting at Raffy’s hand.
“Bruised because of me,” Raffy says, ignoring Rome and dabbing cream onto the corner of his mouth.
“Bruised because my step-brother is an idiot who can’t take a punch he rightly deserves,” Rome mutters.
“It doesn’t matter why, just let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” Rome says, grabbing Raffy’s wrist. “Thank you, but… This feels like too much.”
Raffy’s heart lurches. “Too much?”
“I just… Need a bit more time. Okay? My feelings are healing, but they’re not quite… whole again.”
“Right.” Raffy swallows around his disappointment. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Rome murmurs, averting his gaze. “It’s… nice. I just…”
“No, no. I get it. Time. But,” Raffy straightens up, pasting a smile on his face, “I will woo you, Rome. Properly. To great success.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Rome says, small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Time. I can do time, Raffy thinks. Time is not an outright no.
Raffy watches Rome walk away, watches him press a hand to the corner of his mouth before he shakes his head and enters the classroom.
Oh, Raffy is definitely nailing this whole wooing thing.