So Scarlet (It Was Maroon)

Chapter Four

A/N: hey guys!! sooo this chapter is basically about keefe being depressed because he basically uses humor as a coping mechanism for the emotional abuse he suffers from at home. but the next chapter is gonna have some action, so bear with me through this one. love ya'll!

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"Your house?"

"My house," Sophie confirmed, turning left instead of the usual right. This session—their fourth—was going to be at Sophie's house, as she relentlessly insisted after meeting Keefe's father. It was surprisingly close to the academy; two lefts and a right later, they were walking up the driveway to the front door. A large garden occupied the front yard, thriving with spiky rosemary and tall tomato greens. A hybrid cherry blossom tree acres like an arch to the front door, baby pink petals creating a beautiful carpet beneath. A ratty sign hung on the brown door, reading: This is Our Happy Place.

Keefe struggled to keep his emotions in, only giving Sophie a tight-lipped smile when she glanced at him. This was what a real house felt like. His was just a structure with people inside. But Sophie's house was a home sheltering a family, he could tell by the relaxed smile on her face. While he dreaded the bell signaling the end of the day, Sophie must've looked forward to it. How could she not? Her home was everything his wasn't.

Sophie knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal a tall woman, maybe in her late twenties (although she could've passed for a college student). Her auburn locks shimmered under the noon day sun and she smiled at her daughter.

"Hey, sweetie," she greeted her with a peck on the cheek. Her eyes then fell on Keefe. "Who's this? Oh, you know Grady's going to go mad if he finds out you're having a boy over."

"Mom!" Sophie exclaimed, veiling her face with her hair. "Keefe's my art tutor. I'm going to fail the semester if I don't bring my grades up."

"It's still a wonder to me why you chose art over computers." Sophie's mom kissed her forehead. "Dinner will be ready soon, 'kay?"

"Mhm. Thanks, Mom."

Keefe watched both mother and daughter interact, their words filled with only love and compassion. He knew this was normal in a regular household, but, well—he didn't live in a regular household, did he?

"Hi. I'm Keefe. Keefe Sencen." He held out his hand, and Sophie's mother took it with both of hers.

"Call me Edaline. It's wonderful to meet you, Keefe. Thank you for tutoring my daughter," Edaline smiled with gratitude, her eyes warm. Keefe could only nod and smile tightly, jogging to catch up with Sophie on the stairs.

"That's your mom?" He asked. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off his troubles. "Wow, you look nothing like her."

"Yeah. Um, I'm adopted."

"Oh." Keefe's awe and surprise only climbed higher; a family without blood relation, yet they were so close-knit. To put it simply, how? How did this come to them so easily, yet his own dad couldn't even spare him an ounce of fatherly emotion? And when his mother was alive, she never payed any attention to him either.

He would never understand them. Ever.

"I have paints we can use, even though I've never opened them in my life." Sophie opened the door to her room and Keefe followed suit.

"Huh. I wonder why."

"Very funny." Sophie got out her paints and paper while he looked around. Posters of famous singers and movie stars hung above her bed against the sage walls. The setup was simple and aesthetic; a neat bed, a nightstand, a closet and dresser, and room decor. It all seemed alien to him when he lived in a messy room where he didn't have the slightest clue where anything was.

"I think we need some music," Sophie commented out of nowhere. Scrolling furiously through her phone, she clicked on a playlist that softly serenaded Keefe with the melody of Taylor Swift's "You're On Your Own, Kid".

Keefe scoffed in disbelief, even though the tune was pretty. "Seriously? You're a Swiftie?"

"Her music is amazing!"

"Yeah, if you're a wannabe main character."

"Well, you're a disgrace," Sophie declared, frowning. "Taylor Swift is a goddess." They both plopped down in a chair as Keefe began his lesson.

"How about we paint nature today? Hey, I have a great idea, we'll paint cherry blossoms! You got those ear-cleany thingies?"

"'Ear-cleany thingies?' You mean cotton buds?"

"You know what I meant!"

"It's like you're a literal child. Yes, I have them." Rummaging through a drawer, she pulled out a handful. "Here are your 'ear-cleany thingies'."

Keefe grinned. "Thanks." In a blink of an eye, he picked up a brush and painted a trunk with brown watercolor, the trunk getting thinner as it reached the sky. From there, he drew branches. Sophie struggled to keep up, her work rushed while his was smooth.

"Can you just slow down?"

"No can do! Get on my level, Foster."

"Ugh. Can you at least show me how to paint the branches?"

"I guess." Keefe stood, leaning over her hunched figure, and gently took Sophie's hand, guiding her hand as she painted the curved tree branch in cautious strokes. He couldn't help noticing the subtle scent of pine in her strawberry-blonde hair and remembering the way she tucked it behind her ear whenever she was nervous. He took a deep breath.

"Thanks." Sophie wiggled her way out of his grip and drew the rest, somewhat satisfied with her work.

"That's better," Keefe said, slightly hurt. "Your tree looks like it survived a hurricane and lived to see another day, but it's definitely an improvement."

"My tree looks fine, thank you very much!"

Keefe opened with mouth with a well-prepared retort when an angelic voice interrupted the bickering:

"Sophie, dinner's ready! And bring your friend too!"

"He's not my friend," Sophie muttered under her breath, getting to her feet. Keefe placed a hand on his heart with a playful wounded expression, tucking away the feeling he was really experiencing: disappointment.

"I'm not? Then what are we?" In the silence of Sophie's thinking, Taylor sang gently,

'You're on your own kid.

You always have been.'

And maybe he was. Maybe he was alone, but somehow the thought of Sophie Foster managed to put a small smile on his face. It was a miracle he couldn't explain, a miracle he accepted entirely, and a miracle he would never grow tired of.

Acquaintances," Sophie said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. "We're acquaintances, not friends."

"Aren't those the same thing?"

"Not really."

"Oh." Keefe cocked his head and smiled. Maybe they weren't friends, but at least Sophie didn't discard him like garbage, like how his parents had done in his early days.

But when did he start caring how she thought of him?

Keefe shook it all off, bowing as he gestured towards the door.

"Well, after you, my acquaintance."