My Moonlark

Part 4-Keefe's POV

Dancing wasn't something Keefe thought Sophie would've agreed to. He was sure it would've been next to impossible to convince her to dance with him. He knew she wasn't comfortable with relying on her feet to dance, and he couldn't blame her; her coordination was so adorably off. But Keefe had a hunch the reason Sophie felt so unconfident on her feet was that she never did much of dancing as a child, or much of the other activities he had heard human children do. Keefe was determined to make her experience those moments, even if it meant he would be forced to beg.

He was ready to do that for Sophie.

He had been surprised, however, at how easy it had been to convince her to dance with him. At the time, he had been slightly baffled (and a little amused) at her sudden, and rather uncharacteristic lack of stubbornness. He had presumed it must've been due to Sophie's curiosity. Now, way past the moment, as he let his mind wander back to their time at the amphitheatre, Keefe realised with a jolt that Sophie had given in to dancing with him for a completely different reason. He hadn't paid much attention to the emotions he had felt from her then, but he could now swear he had been feeling something from her that made his heart leap.

She had trusted him.

Keefe could not deny that sometimes, he felt as though he would never be able to earn her trust back again after what he put her through. (Of course, whether he deserved that trust was another story, but that didn't mean he didn't keep trying to make it up to her). The rational part of him knew they wouldn't be here, on their first date, if Sophie hadn't chosen to trust him. But knowing it and having to acknowledge it after seeing proof were two completely different things. Keefe had promised to make sure it would be an unforgettable time for Sophie. And he had succeeded in doing so, by the pure bliss painted onto Sophie's features. He could tell she has loved every minute of their dance. He had loved it too.

Keefe had loved the proximity their dance required, and Sophie's iconic blush in response. He had loved watching her attempt to copy what he was doing, her lips pulled down slightly, a crease between her eyebrows. He had loved watching her stumble through her dance, her chin held high, the usual stubbornness adorning her face. But mostly, he had loved catching her every single time she tripped over her legs and fell in every possible direction. It had given him a way to show her that he would never—never—let her fall ever again.

Eventually, Keefe had transitioned to something goofy, for he had realised Sophie wasn't letting herself loose still. It had been totally worth it when he felt the shock and humiliation emanating from her soon afterwards. Keefe had bit his lip from bursting into laughter, though he couldn't seem to wipe his smile off his face. He couldn't remember being this happy in such a long time. His spirits were further lifted as he saw Sophie hugging the moonlark he had given her to her chest, her cheeks tinged with shades of crimson. He didn't think the sight of anything else would make him feel as light as he had been.

"Keefe?" Sophie's soft, melodious voice brought him out of his reverie. He looked over to see her hugging the silver moonlark to her chest the exact way he had pictured her doing seconds ago. He blinked to make sure he wasn't imagining it. A smile spread on his lips as he realised he wasn't.

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking?"

He turned his head to his side to get a better look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Kind of ironic, this coming from the most powerful Telepath our world has seen."

Sophie rolled her eyes as she tucked her chin to her chest. It might have been the cutest thing he had ever seen. Keefe felt a grin graze his lips.

"I'm not the most-"

"You are, Foster, and you know it."

She sighed, meeting his eyes. "You know I won't read your mind without your permission. What are you thinking?"