the gorgeous beautiful amazing inspiring novel of keefe-oh and sophie

20| keefe

Keefe glanced at Sophie after Ro swung the door shut. Elwin had gone outside too, only after they promised to call if they needed him.

"Uh..." Keefe began, standing uncomfortably beside her bed.

"I was— ugh, now this is awkward," Sophie said, sighing. "I was just going to ask you if you're okay and you're not giving into guilt or anything like that."

Keefe shrugged. "I'm fine."

Sophie blinked, unconvinced.

"I'm fine. Really."

"Want to say that again while I'm in your head?"

Keefe raised his eyebrows. "Okay, first, that sounds super creepy. Second, isn't that illegal if you don't have permission?"

Sophie gave her best attempt at a smirk. "Not if it's an emergency- and giving into guilt definitely sounds like one."

Yep, definitely really weird. But he didn't want Sophie poking around his head. Not that he had any secrets, but... he had a few things he wanted to keep private. Like a few gilded memories he valued as much as his life.

"Fine," Keefe sighed. "I guess I do kind of feel like you got stabbed because of me."

Sophie's eyes turned stern and she grabbed his hands with a sudden urgency. "Listen to me, Keefe."

Despite the fact that Keefe absolutely loved it when Sophie held his hands, he pulled away. He was not about to be comforted into not blaming himself when it was so obviously his fault. Especially since there were millions of ways she could hurt herself.

Sophie caught his wrist as he turned away, and tingles shot up his arm. "Keefe," she said, and he could hear the pain in her voice. "Please. Just listen."

Only for you, Keefe thought bitterly as he slowly spun around.

"You. Didn't. Do. Anything. Okay? No one blames you. Yeah, some stuff probably could've been prevented. But that doesn't make it all up to you to stop it. We're fighting this war together. Team Foster-Keefe, right?"

Keefe paused. "Does... that mean you're not mad at me?"

Sophie sighed, dropping his wrist. "I... I'm not ready for this conversation. I don't have that much energy. Can we talk about it later?"

Keefe nodded, scratching the back of his head. "Should I get Elwin?"

"You don't have to, but you probably should. I can hear Grady getting mad."

Keefe could too. Which made him even more reluctant to cross the room and open the door.

When he did, everyone stampeded back in.

Foster, meanwhile, wasn't looking too great—she really wasn't kidding about not having energy.

Elwin was already on it, asking her if she wanted a sedative. To everyone's surprise, she nodded, and Elwin rummaged through his satchel to give her a familiar pink, sparkly vial.

And then there was quiet.

Elwin cleared his throat. "Well, uh— it's late. Everyone should probably go home. I'll hail everyone for updates in the morning."

Keefe watched as everyone glittered away in unison.

"And as for you..." Elwin began, turning to Keefe. "Tonight will probably be your last night here. By tomorrow your cells should be ready to go home."

"Ughhh," Ro groaned. "We seriously have to go back to Lord Snobbypants? I mean, I'm not a fan of all the sparkles, but if it keeps me away from Daddy Dearest, I would choose this place."

Keefe sighed, but had to agree. His dad was probably waiting for him to come home—not to see him, but to brag about how he never made any mistakes in his perfect childhood.

"If you really wanted, you could stay here for a few more days," Elwin said sympathetically, probably noticing the dull look on Keefe's face. His senses were overwhelmed with concern as Elwin placed a kind hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks." Keefe honestly felt that watching Sophie sleep was depressing and kind of creepy, so he asked Elwin for some paper and pencils and retreated to his room.

Keefe's hand flew across the paper, an image slowly starting to take shape, The shadows and highlights gradually formed as his pencil wove through the sketch, until finally it formed-

Shoot.

This was the exact thing he was trying to avoid. He brushed the drawing of Sophie off of the little desk in the corner of the room. It fluttered to the floor. Not depressing at all.

Keefe sighed and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Ugh, now you're going all sulky? If you keep this up I might have to tie you up with your sheets and use you for tackle practice," Ro told him.

"I'm not sulky."

"Hmm." She went over and picked up the drawing, holding it out like evidence of a crime. "So you're daydreaming? That's not much better."

"Hey, that's so not fair. If I can't talk about your personal life," he smirked, "then you can't talk about mine."

"I'm pretty sure it's my job to dig into your personal life. We're fighting your mommy. All the childhood sob-stories are what I'm here for!"

"Well, this isn't a childhood sob-story."

"But what if Mommy Dearest uses Blondie against you? That seems like something you'd want to share with your bodyguard, doesn't it?"

Keefe gritted his teeth. He'd been hoping she wouldn't get that far.

"Well, I'd considered you wise enough to make that assumption yourself. I guess not," he countered.

"A wise fighter would know there are never assumptions in battle."

"That explains a lot about your battle tactics."

"At least I have a strategy! I don't rely on any puny abilities to do the job for me. And last time I checked, your ability doesn't do anything in battle."

"And yet somehow, I beat your daddy. Ironic, isn't it?"

Ro sat back down. "No, not really. My father was going easy on you. He didn't want to go through all those boring treaty negotiations after he killed an elf."

"Excuses, excuses."

"Keep thinking like that— I dare you. Then, next time you see my father, you'll be dead before I could say 'I told you so.'"

"He said something like that last time I saw him."

"Hmm."

But a tiny, tiny part of Keefe couldn't deny that if he ever saw King Dimitar again, he wasn't sure if he'd come back.

A/N- howdy everyone :D

i hoped u liked this chapter, it was kind of a filler but yeah.

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word count: 1076 including a/n (wowza)

-limbiumforsophie